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Content SOCIAL DAWNINGS: A SURVEY OF AMERICAN MORAL WRITINGS, 1600-1800 by Keith Lawrence A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (English) December 1987 Copyright © 1987 Keith Lawrence UMI Number: DP23122 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. Published by ProQuest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author. Dissertation Publishing UMI DP23122 Microform Edition © ProQuest LLC. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106- 1346 UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY PARK LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90089 This dissertation, written by under the direction of h.la Dissertation Committee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by The Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of re quirements for the degree of P h . T > . E ’ 87 L?2I V .l 33o6 A KEITH LAWRENCE DOCTOR OF PH ILO SO PHY Dean of Graduate Studies D d f e Dec ember _7 , 9 8 7 DISSERTATION COMMITTEE Chairperson TABLE OF CONTENTS Preface ........................................................iii [ chapter 1 Refined in the Furnace of Affliction: paptivity Narratives and other Accounts of Divine Providence ... 1 pHAPTER 2 potton Mather and the Dark Side of Early American Providence Writings, Narratives of Confession and Judgment ... 60 pHAPTER 3 Humanitarian Essays 1: White Responsibilities to Indians ...........................141 IcHAPTER 4 Humanitarian Essays 2: White Responsibilities to Blacks.............................252 [ chapter 5 Humanitarian Essays 3: iMoral Writings for Children and Youth ....................... 347 [ chapter 6 Humanitarian Essays 4: Health and Sexuality........................................ 438 [ chapter 7 Humanitarian Essays 5: Franklin, Rush and Webster, Early Arbiters of American Culture and Education...............548 [ chapter 8 Essays of Nation: Social Roots of American Government, Militarism, and Patriotism...............................................656 Selected Bibliography 759 iii PREFACE Initially, I conceived Social Dawnings as a modest and limited review of early American social morality, a review derived from a representative sampling of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century narra tives, social essays and other imprints. Having determined at the outset to disregard sermons and other overtly didactic religious writings, focusing instead on the morality of home and community, I was confident that the project could be easily managed and quickly completed. My confidence grew out of the mistaken assumption that, in the main, Colonial and Revolutionary social morality would be defined through essays or other writings on manners and responsible social behavior. In fact, as I soon discovered, the majority of all early documents— whether overtly concerned with social codes or not— were cast in a rigid idealism which nearly always asserted or implied moral accountability and specified appropriate/inappropriate conduct. What began as a narrow study of behavior and manners mushroomed into an exploration of virtually all aspects of early American life: edu cation, culture, health, sexuality, family ties, political respon sibility, race relationships, and individual maturity and endurance. I did most of my research at the Huntington Library, using its chronological card catalog of early Americana to compile a 140-page bibliography of American "moral imprints." Approximately 500 primary iv documents from this bibliography are quoted or described in Social Dawnings-, my study was supplemented by another 150 imprints available through the American Antiquarian Society's microprint publication of Early American Imprints, 1630-1800. Reference is made to sermons or other religious writings only when they address or clarify social concerns. Because the works of many Colonial and Revolutionary writers were published first or only in British editions, and because much of early American social morality was derived from British tra dition or from contemporary intercourse with the Old World, a number of European imprints are documented in this study. In the first chapter, I have defined early American moral writ ings as "historical narratives," arguing that such writings fall into one of four classes: narratives of divine providence, narratives of judgment or justification, humanitarian discourse, and essays of po litical responsibility. My discussion of historical narratives is designed as a frame or context and not a thesis; I have not pressed this argument beyond the first chapter. The four classes of narra tives, however, constitute the central structure of my work. Social Dawnings is a survey— a rather lengthy one. I have not attempted to extend or complicate it through a single controlling argument. Yet there are two notions implied by my study. The first is that the terms of social responsibility in nineteenth- and twentieth- century America— especially as evidenced in American literature— are reiterations of or responses to the dogma of Colonial and Revolution ary culture. The second is that Perry Miller was absolutely right in his contention that despite their undeviating preparations for life V after death, the Puritans and their successors were intensely com mitted to the here and now, persuaded that the individual life af fected society for good or ill. The writings of early Americans are consistently positive: even the confessions of condemned malefactors point society to a future devoid of serious crime and simultaneously assure the reader of the ready accessibility of forgiveness and per sonal redemption. I acknowledge the generous support and assistance of the follow ing: the Readers' Services and Special Reading Room personnel of the Huntington Library; Tim Gustafson, who sat on my dissertation com mittee and who made numerous useful suggestions; Jay Martin, chair of my dissertation committee and a wise and patient critic, mentor and friend; my parents, whose perpetual strength and succor has been too infrequently recognized; and my wife Tracy, whose love, confidence' and repeated sacrifices enabled me to write and to continue writing. September, 1987 CHAPTER 1 Refined in the Furnace of Affliction: Captivity Narratives and other Accounts of Divine Providence From their beginnings, Americans have been obsessed with justi fying, analyzing, and otherwise explaining themselves. At first, self-explication took the form of noisy, self-confident narratives of opportunists hawking passages to the New World, simultaneously re assuring potential takers of certain wealth and, more especially, of the narrators' sanity and integrity. Later, as an influx of immi grants pushed civilization beyond the first tiny settlements on the Virginia, Florida, and New England coasts, self-explication justified the existence of small groups of Britons— or Spaniards or Frenchmen, as the case may be— who, despite voluntary isolation, maintained cit izenship in and strong intellectual, cultural, and political ties to a mother country. It explained, for the benefit of future colonists and the glory of the fatherland, the financial rewards of trapping on the Hudson or the agricultural advantages of Virginia plantation life or the spiritual safety of New England religious society. Puritan documents described New England settlements not only in terms of societal renewal but, more especially, individual salvation, announcing the American wilderness as the divinely chosen setting for the founding of a modern Zion inhabited by the only people on earth 2 to enjoy the perfect and personal approbation of Israel's God. The settlers in other areas demonstrated fully as much "religious fervor" in touting the extent of individual opportunity in the New World. In all these early writings were seeds of individualism and national pride, seeds which matured amid the increased homogeneity and secu larization of the eighteenth century into needs to justify citizens' rights and personal freedoms. And as these needs blossomed in Ameri can Independence, self-explication was used to justify the existence of the nation itself, quickly becoming the paradigm for the first American novels. Because American self-explication is essentially an assessment of the individual in the American landscape and historical milieu, its many and various forms may, for the sake of simplicity, be lumped together under the heading of historical analysis, the re spected literary descendant of the writings of St. Augustine, George Carleton, Sir Thomas Browne, and John Vicar. Such historical analysis was often apologetic in the classical sense, the vehicle for persuasion or vindication, and therefore mor alistic. In fact, of the various moralistic genres in colonial and revolutionary America, historical analysis was, with the possible exception of sermon-making, the least subtle in reaching its ends. But in its tapping uniquely American experiences to affirm, almost simultaneously, the contrasting {and uniquely American) notions of individuality and democracy, self-reliance and socio-religious de pendence, the historical narrative remained one of the most consis tently popular moralistic forms well into the nineteenth century. 3 As a charting of the socio-psychological development of the ma turing nation, the historical essay had no single moral thrust. Most early "Indian captivities," mirroring the Puritan ideals which sparked their publication, expressed profound gratitude for divine protection and mercies while they simultaneously bewailed personal sins which made such protection undeserved, advocating awe as well as repentance. Colonel James Smith's much later narrative of 1799, couched in the rationalism of the new republic, had different mo tives: Smith "confessed" not spiritual weakness but a lack of sensi tivity in his relationships with the Indians; in language of unmis takable admiration he explicated various rites and practices of an obviously complex and often paradoxical culture; his narrative con cluded with an argument for a stronger United States military struc tured on principles of Indian warfare.1 Discussions of an earthquake which hit New England late in 1727 describe it as a mysterious and terrifying act of a displeased God determined to awaken his people to "the great Necessity of a Reforma tion, to labour the Subduing of the many provoking Evils, which make the Land tremble." When a second major earthquake struck New England almost exactly eighteen years later, John Winthrop did not hesitate to portray it as a "dispensation of [God's] providence." However, the central interest of a lecture he delivered "On Occasion of the great EARTHQUAKE" is the notion that "explosions and concussions" are the "necessary and inevitable consequences of such laws of nature, and such powers in matter, as our globe could hot well subsist without"— . ------- and to thereby advocate the fostering of increased scientific study as a means of explaining God's ways, and nature's ways, to man.2 Historical essays separated in time, then, may have markedly different moral intentions even when they address the same topic. And, as in the case of James Smith's narrative, there may be a blurring of moral purpose within the same essay. Nevertheless, it is possible to describe nearly all historical analyses written in America between 1640 and 1800 in terms of one of four primary moral concerns: 1) to recognize, explain, and glorify evidences of divine providence; 2) to reveal sin, analyzing its causes/effects and the means by which it may be avoided or expiated; 3) to eradicate social injustice through stim ulating compassion and social involvement; and 4) to recommend or justify political aims or positions. Each of these concerns may be expressed as a "category" of historical analysis. First, then, are the essays of the miraculous, the Accounts of Divine Providence. Next are the Narratives of Confession and Judgment, and the Humanitarian Dis courses. Finally there are political analyses and factional narra tives, the Essays of Nation. Blocked out in these rather wide brush strokes, the historical essay comprises the bulk of all American moral writings before 1800. It is little wonder that the account of divine providence, although eventually becoming something of a national literary form, initially flourished in New England. The Puritans, as virtually every writer on the period has emphasized, were a people in many ways obsessed with proving themselves to be the Chosen of God. William 5 Bradford's Of Plymouth Plantation is the first and also one of the finest of all American "providence narratives," characterized- by its objective and compassionate portrayal of the Mayflower company to the end that, despite its focus on miraculous dispensations and the im mediacy of God, it reveals and assesses the poignant disparity be tween the real world of Plymouth and the City of Zion the Pilgrims had hoped to establish. But many of the New England essayists who followed Bradford possessed neither his skill with language nor his objectivity. All too often they squeezed miracles from the common place; in their hands, even very real catastrophes became the stuff of melodrama. The dispensation of an attentive God, then, is the theme which unites all providence narratives; the degree to which a given writer blindly insists upon this theme determines, in large measure, the enduring literary value of his or her work. Accounts of divine providence fall into three categories or, more precisely, three versions of catastrophe. The first and most extensive is the captivity narrative, which includes histories of literal cap tures by and subsequent deliverances from Indians, maritime enemies, and pirates— as well as chronicles of a variety of figurative cap tivity/redemption situations.3 The second is the disaster narrative, comprised of accounts of shipwrecks, accidents, earthquakes, and other natural disasters— all construed as "acts of God." The third, which will be considered as part of a later chapter, is the narrative of divine judgment: the report and explication of God's punishments for sins ranging from witchcraft to sabbath-breaking. To one degree or another, all accounts of divine providence seem governed by proposals 6 most compactly stated by Increase Mather in his Essay for the Record ing of Illustrious Providences: I. In Order to the promo[t]ing of a design [for the Re cording of Illustrious Providences], so as shall be indeed for Gods Glory, and the good of Posterity, it is necessary that utmost care shall be taken that All and Only Remarkable Providences be Recorded and Published. II. Such Divine Judgements, Tempests, Floods, Earth quakes, Thunders as are unusual, Strange Apparitions, or what ever else shall happen that is Prodigious, Witchcrafts, Dia bolical Possessions, Remarkable Judgements upon noted Sin ners; eminent Deliverances, and Answers of Prayer, are to be reckoned among Illustrious Providences.4 In other words, many early Americans shared a sense of obligation to perceive and to publish to the world all instances of divine provi dence. And to safeguard against the danger of seeing miracles where none in fact existed, writers focused on the dramatic, the "unusual and Prodigious," the remarkable, and occasionally the bizarre. The concern of the providence narrative with the strange and the extreme, together with its proclivity for explaining the inexplicable — catastrophic or otherwise— in terms of divine will, are two crucial reasons for its popularity, especially in New England. A third rea son, perhaps one of even greater significance, is its obsession with suffering. Whether derived from a justification of the sometimes overwhelm ing difficulties of their lives or a disinterested interpretation of scripture, the conviction flourished among the early colonists, and specifically the Puritans, that righteousness was begotten of tribu lation. Paul's assertion that "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth" was, by and large, embraced as literal truth. When Michael Wigglesworth, writing in 1703, condemned . — _ — _ 7 . the "pampered Carcasses" of the wealthy and comfortable, insisting that "The greater strength they have, / The stronger to do evil: / The healthfuller their Bodies be: / More fit to serve the Devil," and arguing that although "Affliction tanne the Skin, / Such Saints are Beautiful within,"5 he was doing no more than reinforcing a gener ally-accepted truth: suffering is necessary and therefore good, and the God who dispenses it is to be worshipped in gratitude as a con cerned albeit strict father. In the end, what is most telling about all narratives of divine providence— captivity as well as disaster or punishment narratives— is that they are frequently more occupied with elaborate descriptions of personal suffering than with the events which caused the suffering in the first place, however remarkable or terrifying those events might have been. "Suffering" was for the Puritans simply another name for "divine testing," which prefigured spiritual redemption if faced squarely and faithfully. Therefore, victorious accounts of intensely personal suffering were, as Vaughan and Clark point out, "compelling attractions to the deeply pietistic [New Englanders], who sought desperately to comprehend their preordained roles in God's . . . uni verse," and for whom, "in a society without fiction and plays, and almost barren of poetry, real-life dramas filled a crucial cultural void."6 For most narrators of divine providences, Job would have been seen as having missed the point: the grace permitting the endurance of suffering is a much more crucial witness of the generous dispensa tions of God— and therefore a greater spiritual comfort and stronger assurance of redemption— than an understanding of the nature of suf fering or a comprehension of the mysterious workings of a deity who allows suffering to exist. In their affirmation of the granting of divine succor to distressed individuals, these narrators were empha sizing the immediacy of heaven and the parental compassion of their God. Early colonial settlement and suffering were synonymous. The hazards of the New World were, according to William Bradford, well known to the Puritans who considered in 1620 the wisdom of leaving Holland for permanent settlement in America, a proposition which "raised many variable opinions" and "caused many fears & doubts”: [T]he miseries of the land which they should be exposed unto, would be hard to be borne; and lickly, some or all of them together, to consume & utterly ruinate them. For ther they should be liable to famine, and nakedness, & the wante, in a maner, of all things. The chang of aire, diate, & drinking of water, would infecte their bodies with sore sickneses, and greevous diseases. And also those which should escape or overcome these difficulties, would yett be in continuall dan ger of the salvage people, who are cruell, barbarous, & the most trecherous, being most furious in their rage, and merci- les wher they overcome; not 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.7 Bradford here summarized in a single long sentence the very atrocities that would be developed at length in virtually every In dian captivity to be published in America, beginning with The Sov ereignty & Goodness of God . . . Being a Narrative of the Captivity and Restauration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson in 1682. More important, how ever, to the emerging conventions of the genre is Bradford's response 9 to the "fears & doubts" of his people in Holland— the "miseries of the land" and the "continuall danger of the salvage people": It was answered, that all great St honourable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and must be both enter- prised and overcome with answerable courages. It was granted that the dangers were great, but not desperate; the diffi culties were many, but not invincible. For though their were many of them likly, yet they were not certaine; it might be sundrie of the things feared might never befale; others by providente care & the use of good means, might in a great measure be prevented; and all of them, through the help of God, by fortitude and patience, might either be borne, or overcome.8 Bradford's reply to specific "fears & doubts" became the answer of early historical essayists to all Fear and Doubt, whether in the guise of Indian torture, imminent death, natural disaster, or ship wreck: It may be that things feared will not come to pass, but if they do, comfort may be taken in God's assistance, and courage may be found in knowing that accomplishment or success comes only through sacrifice and struggle. But Bradford did not invent the structure of the providence narrative any more than Mary Rowlandson originated the narrative of captivity/restoration. Providence narratives may be traced back to the Bible; even the much more specific captivity narrative had begun to appear by the early 1500s in reports of Spanish explorers and mis sionaries, usually as a "dramatic episode in a work of larger scope."9 The accounts of Indian capture in the writings of John Smith and in a pamphlet by John Nicholl, An Houre Glasse of Indian Newes (1607)— which tells of the "distressed Calamities indured by 67 Eng lishmen" who were "left a-shore in Saint Lucia, an Island of cani- balls"10— are among the first captivity narratives in English; in TO" fact, Nicholl's captivity precedes Mrs. Rowlandson's narrative by 75 years. What Bradford did as a representative Puritan, however, was to mold and influence New England sensibility; Mrs. Rowlandson adapted the captivity narrative to late seventeenth-century religious senti ments11 in much the same way as Increase Mather adjusted the disaster and divine punishment narratives to the same needs and time period. And, among other things, because the major printing-houses were lo cated in New England, the likes of Bradford, Rowlandson, and the Mathers influenced historical essayists in other parts of the New World as well. With specific reference to the concept of suffering, Bradford's writings reveal and establish two principles inherent to the Puritan consciousness: first, that there is a sweetness or power or glory in victoriously meeting the challenges of suffering and hardship; and second, that God provides generous and certain succor to those who undergo trials in his name. Bradford's nephew, Nathaniel Morton, emphasizes a third "principle of suffering" in his account of the arrival of the Mayflower group in New England— not at the origi nal destination, the mouth of the Hudson, but at Cape Cod. The Puri tans' "putting into this place was partly by reason of a storm, by which they were forced in," Morton writes, but more especially by the fraudulency and contrivance of the aforesaid Mr. Jones, the Master of the Ship: for, their In tention . . . and his Engagement, was to Hudson's River; but some of the Dutch having notice of their intentions, and having thoughts about the same time of erecting a Plantation there likewise, they fraudulently hired the said Jones by delayes while they were in England, and now under pretence of the danger of the Sholes, Sc. to disappoint them in their going thither.12 — rl — However, Morton is quick to point out that "God out-shoots Satan often-times with his own Bow," observing that the Puritans "would have been in great peril of their lives" had they reached their planned destination; for despite its fertility and spaciousness, it was a place "then abounding with a multitude of pernicious Salvages." Knowing all this, God had "so disposed," writes Morton, "that the place where they afterward setled was much depopulated by a great Mortality amongst the Natives, which fell out about two years before their arrival, whereby he made way for the carrying on of his good purpose in promulgating of his Gospel."13 Morton's "third principle" is simply this: all suffering has divine purpose because it is permitted— if not, indeed, ordered by God; more importantly, what man initially perceives as suffering or hardship may, in reality, be providential.14 Mrs. Rowlandson, who certainly concurred with this perspective, interrupts her account of the Indian attack which preceded her capture to complain of the "six stout Dogs belonging to [the] garrison," of which "none . . . would stir, though another time, if any Indian had come to the door, they were ready to fly upon him and tear him down." She then observes: "The Lord hereby would make us the more acknowledge his hand, and to see that our help is always in him."1® Too, when recounting the trials of her captivity, she frequently pauses to designate spiritual truths learned from them. And she concludes her narrative with the following declaration, which combines Bradford's and Morton's positions on suf fering: Before I knew what affliction meant, I was ready sometimes to wish for it . . . [S]eeing many, whom I preferred before my T2 self, under many tryals and afflictions, in sickness, weak ness, poverty, losses, crosses, and cares of the World, I should be sometimes jealous least I should have my portion in this life, and that Scripture would come to my mind, Heb. 12.6 For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth. . . . But now I see the Lord had his time to scourge and chasten me. . . . Af fliction I wanted, and affliction I had, full measure (I thought: pressed down and running over), yet I see, when God calls a Person to any thing, and through never so many diffi culties, yet he is fully able to carry them through and make them see, and say they have been gainers thereby. And I hope I can say in some measure, As David did, It is good for me that I have been afflicted. The Lord hath shewed me the van ity of these outward things. . . . That we must rely on God himself, and our whole dependance must be upon him. ... I have learned to look beyondjpresent and smaller troubles, and to be quieted under them.1® Increase Mather is as ready to recognize divine intervention in natural disasters, accidents of fate, and other "illustrious provi dences" as Mrs. Rowlandson is in her captivity narrative. In fact, Mather ascribes to Deity the suffering inherent in everything— from death by lightning to demonic possessions. In addition, Mather was perhaps the first of the colonists to insist on a fourth "principle of suffering": that it was often the consequence of personal sin. His accounts of witchcraft and possession, for example, reveal his con viction that not only is the individual who commits evil destroyed by it, often through resulting suffering or other punishment, but that sin damages the lives of those who, in various ways, are touched or made to share the pains of the transgressor. Mather would likely argue that a society purged of sin would also find itself purged of serious suffering. For him, one of the most striking evidences of divine grace was God's awakening in the transgressor "a deep sence of his Evils, that he (might make] it his business not only that his peace might be made with God, but with Men also."17 13 Certainly Mrs. Rowlandson admits that her captivity may be a punishment for sin or, as she puts it, "carelessness": I .. . remembered how careless I had been of Gods holy time, how many Sabbaths I had lost and mispent, and how evily I had walked in Gods sight; which lay so close unto my spirit, that it was easie for me to see how righteous it was with God to cut off the thread of my life, and cast me out of his pres ence for ever. Yet the Lord still shewed mercy to me, and upheld me; and as he wounded me with one hand, so he healed me with the other.18 Yet there is hardly the insistence on the sin/suffering relationship which characterizes Mather's Essay. Mather tells, for example, of seven Bristol sailors whose tiny vessel was driven off course and who were thus lost at sea for over four months. They depleted their water and beer supplies before they were finally rescued, and "the Torment of their Drought was insufferable." Occasionally they were lucky enough to catch a fish and drink its blood; some began drinking salt water. At length, "they greedily drank their own Urine when they could make any." Mather justifies their suffering by declaring that it was right for God "to thus afflict them, in that they had been guilty of wasting good drink, and of abusing themselves therewith before they came to Sea."19 To a modern reader, the history's sin/ punishment relationship seems terribly forced. But Mather would just ify it by pointing to his aims, which are first and primarily to re cord an event— to tell a story— that, simply by virtue of its being unusual and dramatic, bears witness of divine intervention in human affairs. Suggesting the parameters of divine will and its effects on human affairs is of secondary importance to Mather: it is enough, in most cases, simply to preserve a record of the event— given that the spiritually attuned will perceive for themselves its miraculous and faith-inspiring underpinnings. Predictably, Cotton Mather shared his father's predilections for writing histories of suffering, flatly believing that nearly any un fortunate calamity, including captivity, "was a punishment for sin" and therefore valuable as an instructional warning to others.20 The son's version of the Narrative of Hannah Swarton, containing Wonder ful Passages, relating to her Captivity and her Deliverance, appear ing in Book VI of the Magnalia, has Mrs. Swarton considering in the following words the reasons for her having been taken by the Indians: My Indian Mistress . . . would say, That God delivered us into their Hands to punish us for our Sins; And this I knew was true as to my self. And as I desired to consider of all my Sins, for which the Lord did punish me, so this lay very heavy upon my Spirit many a time, that I had left the Publick Worship and Ordinances of God, where I formerly lived ... to remove to the North Part of Casco Bay, where there was no Church or Minister of the Gospel; and this we did for large Accommodations in the World, therby exposing our Children, to be bred Ignorantly like Indians, and ourselves to forget what we had been formerly instructed in; and so we turned our Backs upon God's Ordinances to get this World's Goods. But now God hath stript me of these things also; so that I must justifie the Lord in all that has befallen me, and acknow ledge that he hath punish'd me less than my Iniquities de served.2^ - Of the dozens of examples of sin/suffering comparisons in prov idence narratives, one of the most interesting occurs in a long pam phlet entitled Ashton's Memorial (1726), which includes edited ac counts of the capture of Philip Ashton and Nicholas Merritt by pi rates, together with a sermon occasioned by Ashton's safe return to New England. At one point in Ashton's narrative, he writes: "I had time to call over my past Life, and young as I was, I saw I had grown old in Sin, my Transgressions were more than my days." Then he says, 15 "Though GOD had graciously restrained me from the grosser Enormities of Life, yet I saw Guilt staring me in the Face, enough to humble me, and for ever to vindicate the Justice of GOD in all that I under went."22 In an address to his congregation honoring Ashton's home coming, John Barnard at one point speaks directly to Ashton: We cannot but hope, that there were some Disposition in you to serve God before you were carried away Captive by a Crew of Pirates, almost three Years ago: and allow me to say, basely ungrateful, and deeply guilty beyond almost any Man in the World will you be, if now you do not become one of the most humble, holy, faithful, active Servants of God.23 Barnard thus echoes the sentiments of the Mathers and many others, not only implying a distinct connection between sin and punishment but warning the redeemed individual of the grave risk of doubly of fending a patient and merciful God.24 Perhaps in an effort to insure that suffering was correctly in terpreted and that the providence and grace of God were duly recog- I nized, Increase Mather encouraged "each one in [an Ecclesiastical] capacity [to] diligently enquire into, and Record such Illustrious providences as have hapned, or from time to time shall happen, in the places whereunto they do belong: and [to see] that the Witnesses of such notable Occurents be likewise set down in writing."25 Of the providence narratives published in the wake of the popularity of Row landson's account and Increase Mather's Essay, many were edited or prefaced— or, at very least, approved— by ordained ministers. As time passed, however, and especially as the providence narrative was transformed into the first examples of American fiction, there was less religious control, fewer references to God and spirituality in the works themselves, and greater latitude in recording and embel- 16 lishing dramatic events, real or imagined. The depiction of suffering — the catalyst giving rise to spiritual maturity in the early provi dence narratives— increasingly became an end in itself. By the late 1700s both fictional and non-fictional narratives exploited suffering — doing so primarily, it seems, to boost sales. While it is easy to imagine the attraction— specifically to those Americans for whom one kind of war or another had become a way of life— of the rather graphic sufferings portrayed in post-Revolu- tionary pamphlets and books, it is also possible to understand the appeal of the suffering depicted in the narratives of a century or more earlier, depicted through a style marked by sparseness, simpli city, and comparative unpretentiousness. Beginning with Bradford, the early essayists created through blunt and unschooled sincerity a terse poignancy and depth of humanity impressive even to a modern reader. American moral essayists following Bradford were influenced, it seems likely, not only by his direct and unadorned writings but by the pleasing, idiomatic styles of such British "providence narrators" as Edward Pellham, whose account, Gods Power and Providence: Shewed, In The Miraculous Preservation and Deliverance of eight Englishmen, left by mischance in Green-land (1631), prefigures both colonial and Revo lutionary histories in title, substance, and intention. Published, explains the author in his prefatory address to the reader, "that God may have the onely glory of this our deliverance," Pellham's history has little or nothing to do with dramatic suspense, its outcome re 17 vealed in its title. Instead, like the American narratives which followed it, The Miraculous Preservation has as its primary interest the chronicling of divine intervention in behalf of a struggling few, securing their physical and spiritual safety in the face of incredi ble odds. In recounting his feelings and those of his seven companions as they realized they had been accidentally abandoned by their fishing vessels, left on the desolate Greenland coast, Pellham writes: "Our feares increased upon us, even whil'st we consulted whether it were safest for us to goe [back to England by small-boat] or stay. If goe, then thought wee upon the dangers in sayling." Or, "if we resolved still to remaine . . . , then we thought that no other thing could be looked for, but a miserable and pining death." Then, with remarkable economy, he anticipates the gravity of and sufferings inherent to being stranded on Greenland during the winter: This . . . had we heard, how that the company of Muscovie Mer chants, having once procured the reprieve of some malefac tors, that had here at home beene convicted by Law for some haynous crimes committed; and that both with promise of par don for their faults, and with addition of rewards also, if so be they would undertake to remaine in Green -land but one whole yeare . . . : these condemned creatures are imbarked, who after a certaine space there arriving, and taking a view of the desolateness of the place; they conceived such a hor- rour and inward feare in their hearts, as that they resolved rather to returne for England to make satisfaction with their lives for their former faults committed, than there to re maine, though with assured hope of gaining their pardon.26 There is a similar restraint, a similar case of words meaning more than they say, in Mary Rowlandson's description of the "dismal ness" of the night following her capture. "All was gone," she writes, "my Husband gone (at least separated form me . . . ) my Children gone, 18 my Relations and Friends gone, our House and home and all our com forts within door, and without, all was gone, (except my life) and I knew not but the next moment that might go too." In a rather grim understatement, she continues: There remained nothing to me but one poor wounded Babe, and it seemed at present worse than death that it was in such a pitiful condition . . . and I had no refreshing for it. . . . Little do many think what is the savageness and bruitishness of this barbarous Enemy, [Ay] even those that seem to profess more than others among them, when the English have fallen into their hands.27 In early providence narratives, as in Pellham's and Rowlandson's accounts, suffering has the sole purpose of emphasizing the "most mercifull Preservation, and most wonderfully powerful Deliverance" accomplished by "the Great God, the sole Author of it."28 From a modern perspective, the comparative modesty with which the suffering is described serves to vivify it as well as the personalities of those who experience and later record it. For example, one of the briefest of all "providences," SAD AND DREADFUL NEWS from New England (1684), a broadside apparently written by John Bath, a Boston seaman, tells how he and six shipmates were captured by Spanish pirates on their return from Jamaica to Boston in early 1683. In addition to its brevity, Bath's account is somewhat unique among providence narra tives in its apparently deliberate attempts to create suspense and believable characterizations. In an open, idiomatic style, Bath tells how he and five others were robbed of their cargo, taken to the Isle of Pines, an uninhabited island, and commanded by the pirates to "put off their Cloaths, Shirt and all"; then the pirates bound the men to three neighboring trees, two to each trunk, and returned to their vessel "without the least pity or compassion." The sailors had been bound in such a way, writes Bath, that each couple stood up to the middle Legg in Water, their feet touching one another, and their Faces so turned that they might behold each others miserable condition. In this Dismal and helpless condition they continued for some time, and must have ended their days, had not the Divine Goodness out of unbounded Compassion, found a way for their deliver ance . . . : About three hours after they were thus bound, and left . . . , John Bath Espied a Stick with a crook at one end, not far from him; whereupon he said to his Companion, If it pleases God we get that Stick into our Hands, it might be a means to work our Deliverance; . . . which in a little time they happily effected; and bore it up betwixt their Leggs, in such manner that at last John Bath got hold of it in his Hand, with which by degrees they loosened the Knot, . . . until they had quite undone it ... ; when having lifted up their Hearts and Hands to heaven, . . . they hastened to un bind the rest of their companions.^ Following subsequent difficulties and attendant sufferings, Bath and his shipmates, "through the Goodness of God, . . . came safe to New- England."30 Elizabeth Hanson and four of her children (one a two-week-old infant) were taken captive by Indians in 1724. Mrs. Hanson's narra tive is, with Mrs. Rowlandson's, perhaps the most literary of all captivities written before 1750.3* With a kind of restrained horror, Mrs. Hanson details the circumstances of her being taken captive: "It must be considered that I having lain-in but 14 Days, and being but very tender and weakly, being removed now out of a good Room well accommodated with Fire, Bedding, and other Things suited to a person in my Condition, it made these Hardships to me greater than if I had been in a strong and healthy Frame; yet for all this, I must go or die." She concludes simply: "There was no resistance." 20' After having traveled a few days' journey, Mrs. Hanson observes that the "greatest Difficulty that deserves the first to be named, was Want of Food, having at Times nothing to eat but Pieces of old Beaver-Skin-Match-Coats." The next Difficulty [she writes] was no less hard to me; for my daily Travel and hard Living made my Milk dry almost quite up, and how to preserve my poor Babe's Life was no small Care on my Mind, having no other Sustenance for it, many Times, but cold Water, which I took in my Mouth, and let it fall on my Breast, (when I gave it the Teat,) to suck in, with what it could get form the Breast; and when I had any of the Broth of the Beaver, or other Guts, I fed my Babe with it, as well as I could: By which Means, thro' Care to keep it as warm as I could, I preserved its Life till I got to Canada. Like many captives who eventually ended up in Canada, Mrs. Han son was soon brought face to face with Catholicism. As an apparently religious Puritan, however, Mrs. Hanson's reactions are atypical: she respects Catholic customs, praises the French as being "civil beyond what [one] could either desire or expect," and even refers to one of the priests as being "sensible."33 For many practicing Puritans, facing French Catholicism in Canada was the severest aspect of the captivity experience, often inducing intense mental suffering. Re ligious beliefs of the Indians could be dismissed as part and parcel of their "barbarous natures"; because the French Canadians, on the other hand, were a civilized and relatively well-educated people who showed little hesitation in using reason, argumentation, and even derision in their efforts to convert "Puritan infidels" traded to them by the Indians, their religion was not so easily ignored. Hannah Swarton, for example, referring to her experiences in Canada as "the Affliction of my Captivity among the Papists,"34 employs half her narrative in recounting the "trials" she suffered in defending her 21 religious beliefs; her final argument to members of her own community is that her championing of Puritan spiritual ideals effected a mirac ulous strengthening of her own religious convictions. John Williams, though he was a captive nearly seventy years after Mrs. Swarton, shared similar concerns about French Catholicism. He writes that his sixteen-year-old son, after having been purchased from the Indians by the French, was placed in a French school where, with "Abuses and Threatnings," the schoolmaster demanded that the boy make the sign of the cross: And so thro" Cowardise and fear of the Whip, he [Williams' son] made the Sign. And did so for several Days together, & with much ado, he was brought to Cross himself. . . . And when he came to say his Lesson, and Cross'd not himself, the Mas ter said, Have you forgot what I bid you do? No Sir, said he: Then the School-Master said, Down on your Knees; and so kept him for an Hour and half, till School was done; and so did for about a Week. When he saw this would not do, he took the Whip, What won't you do it, (said he) I will make you; and so again, frightened him to a Compliance.35 And Mrs. Jean Lowry, taken captive in 1756, voices a profound worry common to Puritan captives when she writes: "I was now separa ted from all my Children, which was an inexpressible trouble unto me, for the Indians detained them all among them. Oh! how distressing to think that the fruit of my Body, and the delight of my Mind, as my Children were, that they should be brought up in Paganism, who were dedicated unto God and to be brought up in his fear and Service."36 For most Puritans, Mrs. Lowry's stand against Paganism could, with equal justification, have been taken against Papistry. Lowry does, in fact, use the last portion of her narrative recounting "Several Dis putes between the said Mrs. LOWRY, and the French." Though she re mains adamant as to the correctness of her own beliefs, Mrs. Lowry, 22 unlike the majority of Puritans who had been taken captive before her, softens her religious ardor with humor. "The Officer to whom I belong'd," she writes, says you [speaking to Mrs. Lowry] are like the Devil, for if the Devil wou'd appear, and we should Cross ourselves and say our Prayers he would fly; and so do you, Sir says I, I know not whether your Prayers are good or bad for I cannot under stand them; and to bow my Knees in an inpleasive [sic] faith is what I will never do, for said I if one of my own Nation should Pray in an unknown Tongue, I would not bow with him, why says he, other Prisoners that cannot understand more than you does, said I they may use their Pleasure, and in such a case I will use mine.^ As the Age of Reason dawned in America and the writings of pop ular British essayists acquired a colonial audience, humor became more and more a part of American written expression. Humor even ap peared in providence narratives, where it balanced suffering and doubt. James Smith, as he reports in 1799, eventually embraced many aspects of the Indian lifestyle though he was initially horrified by his captors. His use of humor in explaining his horror makes his account highly readable in addition to providing it with greater ob jectivity; the humor also prepares a reader to accept Smith's even tual closeness to the Indians. Of one experience early in his captiv ity, for example, he writes: [The Indians] formed themselves into two long ranks, about two or three rods apart. I was told by an Indian that could speak English, that I must run betwixt these ranks, and that they would flog me all the way, as I ran, and if I ran quick, it would be so much the better. . . . There appeared to be a general rejoicing around me, yet, I could find nothing like joy in my breast; but I started to the race with all the res olution and vigor I was capable of exerting, and found that it was as I had been told, for I was flogged the whole way. When I had got near the end of the lines, I was struck with ... a stick, or the handle of a tommahawk [sic], which caused me to fall to the ground. On recovering my senses, I endeavored to renew my race; but as I arose, some one cast 23 sand in ray eyes, which blinded me so, that I could not see where to run. They continued beating me most intolerably, until I was at length insensible; but before I lost my sen ses, I remember my wishing them to strike the fatal blow, for I thought they intended killing me, but apprehended they were too long about it.38 Smith was taken to a nearby fort and treated by a French doctor who washed his wounds with brandy. "As I felt faint," writes Smith, "and the brandy smelt well, I asked for some inwardly, but the doctor told me, by the interpreter, that it did not suit my case."39 Though Smith retained certain religious convictions throughout his captivity, many of his contemporaries were losing theirs due to jEuropean and other influences. For those without religious faith, humor became a means for enduring the sometimes unendurable contra dictions and difficulties of life. Ethan Allen, one of America's first confessed atheists, wrote what may be the finest of the Revolu tionary War captivities, notable for its honesty, historicity, and humor as well as for its polished style. Allen writes of being taken prisoner to England; on the ship which carried him there, he and thir ty-three other men were kept, under deplorable conditions, in a dun geon about twenty feet square having no furnishings except two excre ment tubs. For the entire voyage, the prisoners were obliged "in this circumference ... to eat and perform the office of evacuation." The men were denied fresh water other than an insufficient daily ration; as a consequence of their cramped and unsanitary quarters, all of them developed dysentery and were "overspread with body lice."^9 Yet Allen maintained his sanity and dignity. And when he was eventually placed in custody of the captain of a second vessel, under whom he enjoyed greater freedom, it became clear that he had preserved a sense of humor as well. This second captain, writes Allen, was a man "more arbitrary than a King," ordering Allen never to appear on deck as it was "a place for gentlemen." Allen was undeterred: [T]wo days later, I shaved and cleansed myself as well as I could, and went on deck: The Captain spoke to me in a great rage, and said, "Did I not order you not to come on deck?" I answered him, that at the same time he said, "That it was the place for gentlemen to walk": That I was Col. Allen, but had not been properly introduced to him. He replied, "G— d damn you, Sir, be careful not to walk the same side of the deck that I do." This gave me encouragement, and ever after that I walked in the manner he had directed.41 Allen was eventually returned to the United States and kept in the British prisons there. Before his release, he was approached by a "British officer of rank and importance" who informed Allen that his "faithfulness (though in a wrong cause) had nevertheless recommended [him] to General Sir William Howe," and that Howe intended to make him "a Colonel of a regiment of new levies, (alias tories) in the British service." Howe proffered clothes, payment in "hard guineas" rather than "paper rags," and "a large tract of land" once America was conquered. I then replied [writes Allen], "That if by faithfulness I had recommended myself to General Howe, I should be loth, by un faithfulness, to lose the General's good opinions, besides that I viewed the offer of land to be similar to that which the devil offered Jesus Christ, To give him all the kingdoms of the world, if he would fall down and worship him; when at the same time the damned soul had not one foot of land upon the earth." This closed the conversation, and the gentleman turned from me with an air of dislike, saying, that I was a bigot upon which I returned to my lodgings.43 Allen (whose narrative was read widely in Britain) was, like Franklin, evidence of a new, educated American, possessed of rapier- wit as well as an understanding of the "moral philosophy and . . . mood[s] of argumentation"43 then current— and free from the customs 25 or restraints governing the use of either. Sometimes, however, the "humor" of providence narratives was unintentional and was certainly not so lucky as that of Ethan Allen or James Smith. Unintended humor constitutes the final matter of importance with reference to the topic of suffering in early American historical essays. Increase Mather's Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Prov idences is, by definition, more concerned simply with recording "all remarkable providences" than with providing explications of each providence it chronicles. For Mather's contemporaries, the book car ried the sense that God had his hand in virtually everything, ter restrial as well as celestial; that he was best revealed through strange, dramatic, or inexplicable events which, through catastrophe and contrast, somehow revealed a universe ordered to clear-cut dis tinctions between right and wrong. But when Mather's "providences" are studied casually, especially by a modern reader, it is frequently tempting to perceive them as amusing or, at best, illogical. In the third chapter of his Essay, "Remarkables about Thunder and Light ning," for example, Mather tells of twelve neighbors who were gathered in a discussion-and-prayer meeting when a thunderstorm arose. One of the men, writes Mather, was struck stone dead, as he was leaning over a Table, and joyning with the rest in Prayer. He did not stir nor groan after he was smitten, but continued standing as before, bearing upon the Table. There was no visible impression on his body or clothes, only the sole of one of his Shoes was rent from the upper Leather. . . . [Njone else received any harm, only one Woman (who is still living) was struck upon the Head, which occasioned some deafness ever since.44 One perceives, in this case, a fortuity— a providence— in the sparing of twelve lives, despite the fact that one of the eleven was 26 left partially deaf, but one remains at a loss fully to explain the providence of the death. Whether the man deserved to die or whether there was beneficence in his manner of dying is neither stated nor implied. There may be incongruities even when Mather assigns meanings to his narratives, as is exemplified by his account of the Bristol sailors mentioned earlier, an account whose "crime/punishment" rela tionships— for a casual reader— border on the absurd. Indeed, the casual reader may perceive the lack of appropriate, objective explication as a major flaw of Increase Mather's Essay and of many of Cotton Mather's writings as well. This reader accordingly will see the Essay as wavering in its focus between morality and phe nomena, clearly defining neither; accordingly will fail to perceive Mather as a devoted religious historian for whom rationale was secon dary to the obligation to bear witness and for whom the providential — by virtue of its source— required no explanation or emphasis short of its very coincidence, peculiarity, or miraculousness. It is probable that the writings of Increase Mather were cor rectly interpreted by his literate contemporaries. However, one eas ily imagines that for writers who followed him and who studied his works only superficially, phenomena were likely to make stronger im pressions than moral principles— and that either morality or prodigy was prone to acceptance as a higher premium than the coherence, depth, or reality of the narrative itself. The gradual and unfortu nate trend was, of course, from Mather's Essay towards sensationalism and exploitation, and specifically towards "suffering for its own sake" in providence narratives and other historical modes. — — --------------------------------------------------------------- 27- Mrs. Rowlandson's narrative was published before Mather's vol ume, and so she was not affected by its confusing accumulations of details and its periodic wrestings of morality. But later providence writings may have been. Jonathan Dickenson's Gods Protecting Provi dence Man's Surest Help and Defence (1699), for example, tells how Dickenson's party survived a shipwreck and "the more cruelly devour ing jawes of the inhumane CANIBALS of FLORIDA."45 Dickenson uses about 30,000 words detailing and rehashing the experiences he has previously and much more coherently described in an eight-page pre face. Many of the extensive details are separate instances of similar or even identical trials used in support of recurring moral truths. In A Faithful Narrative Of The many Danger and Sufferings, as well as wonderful Deliverances of Robert Eastburn (1758), the author— reveal ing an exaggerated humility, unintended smugness, and ill-disguised intolerance for all things Indian— assumes the blessings and approval of God with a calm certainty that, especially in the context of the narrative, makes an objective reader wince.46 Occasionally, East- burn's history is moving. More often, however, and at its most cru cial junctures— such as its depiction of the capture itself— it is annoying, unwittingly amusing, or melodramatic. Eastburn is uninjured at capture; he is taken alone and is thus not bereft, during capture, of family or loved ones. But this does not prevent him from wallowing in self-pity. And unlike other captives, including children, pregnant women, and disabled persons, Eastburn complains a great deal about sufferings which, when compared with theirs, are comparatively slight: insufficient clothing, "coarse Food," traveling through snow: 28 [A] great Number [of Indians] . . . stripped me of my Cloath- ing, Hat, and Neckcloth (so that I had nothing left but a Flannel Vest, without Sleeves) put a Rope around my Neck, bound my Arms fast behind me, put a long Band round my Body, and a large Pack on my Back, struck me on the Head (a severe Blow) and drove me through the Woods before them: it is not easy to conceive, how distressing such a Condition is! In the mean Time, I endeavoured with all my little remaining Strength, to lift up my Eyes to God, from whom alone I could with reason expect Relief!47 From Eastburn's perspective, "relief" comes frequently, and invari ably when he is refusing to obey specific Indian commands— such as to "dance round the Fire Barefoot, and sing the Prisoners Song"— since Eastburn "apprehend[s such] Compliance sinful." He generally gets away with his stubborn disdain, through one turn of fate or another, and then declares, "For [the] gracious Interposure of Providence, in preserving me both from Sin and Danger, I desire to bless God while I live!"48 The accidental humor of A Narrative Of the Travels of Isaac Wal den (1773), which relates how its author escaped from "the King's Service" in Canada and returned to New England, lies in its equating the most trivial of circumstances with important scriptural parables or events. It begins with the words: "Considering how that the poor widow's two mites was excepted [sic], it encouraged me to cast mine into the great offering of God that it might be a testimony unto the world," and proceeds by drawing parallels between the author and Jeremiah, Jonah, and Christ.48 The laughable extent to which suffer ings could be made ends in themselves is demonstrated by Singular Sufferings of Two Friends, Who Had Lost Themselves in an American Forest, a British "penny-dreadful" from about 1800. This chapbook tells how two friends, lost four days in an anonymous New England - - - - - - - - -—- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -— — - - - - 2 9 - forest, were on the verge of starvation (even though they had plenty of water) and were finally brought to the dreadful decision, "through the horrors of despair and famine," to procure meat by kill ing a pet dog that accompanied them. But edible roots were discovered at the last minute, the dog's life was spared, and the two friends thanked God for his mercies.50 Suffering, when recorded objectively and in harmony with any underlying morality, becomes the very heart of the narrative of di vine providence, where its use is dictated by four principles: that hardship brings spiritual rewards and the possibility of physical blessings; that God generously assists those who undergo trials in his name; that suffering has divine purposes— which may be known only to God; and that trials may be the result of sin, divine warnings to erring individuals to speedily mend their ways. The providence narra tives which still retain the power to move readers do so largely be cause of the restrained and sincere accounts of suffering included in their pages. As important as suffering is to the providence narrative, it does not comprise the entire reason for the popularity of early Amer ican historical analyses. Explications of divine providences and in herent sufferings are the stuff of sermons; and historical analyses, including narratives of providence, were stylistically and structur ally different form both oral and printed sermon forms. Certainly, few sermons sold as well as popular historical narratives. Not only do characteristics apart from simplistic testimonials of suffering 3cr and faith distinguish historical narratives from sermons and other expository forms but, together with the centrality of suffering, they comprise central reasons for the narratives' popularity. Lewis Leary has suggested that Benjamin Franklin's position in American letters is due to his simultaneously addressing the chal lenges of American society and representing the potential of the "Yankee" who squarely faced his tests and rose above them. As a "true American," one who "knew that men and institutions were often cor rupt, but . . . that they might be improved," Franklin was, in Leary's view, a "latter-day Columbus who revealed the new world to the old": Dressed plainly, his stockings wrinkled, his hair unpowdered, and his spectacles (bifocals of his own invention) askew on his nose, Franklin met kings and courtiers with simple dig nity as a representative new man . . . clad in homespun, unpre tentious but wise, ingenious, and free. Having left ancient prejudices and old-world manners behind, [he and his contem poraries] . . . carried with them the hope of the world, in arts and sciences, in vigor and industry.51 In short, says Leary, Franklin institutionalized the requirements of a national literature, defining success and integrity in terms of morals, manners, politics and education, keeping "America's promise" always to the fore, and grounding all he wrote in common sense and native humor.52 The early American essayists understood, subconsciously at least, the principles which Franklin later fashioned into a literary code. They were from the beginning profoundly concerned with morality and, to a lesser extent, with manners. They became increasingly in volved with questions of culture, education, and politics. Initially, they were forced by the exigencies of an unfamiliar, if not hostile, environment to improvise, to make do— surviving (and generally pre 31 serving pride and dignity) by virtue of ingenuity and common sense. Even when practicality was no longer necessary to survival, it was maintained as a means to selfhood and independence, having become part and parcel of the American character long before Franklin, even affecting how the colonists viewed spiritual matters.53 It can be argued that, like Franklin, the early essayists were popular because they dealt with the central concerns of literature— morality, man ners, education, and politics— and did so with common sense and a measure of originality. The morality of the providence narrative is, in large part, the morality of suffering: justifying, explaining, even glorifying the harsh and terrifying aspects of colonial American life. But it is also the morality of Civilized Colonial Society, and is thus linked closely with manners and education. In other words, Indian captivi ties pit Christianity against paganism, education against illiteracy, gentility and social law against barbarism, moderation and restraint against licentiousness. Pirate and maritime captivities emphasize dissimilarities between the American colonies and other nations, es pecially Spain, France, and (after about 1760) Britain, underscoring the humanity, magnanimity, and common sense of the colonists. Even disaster narratives frequently contrast divine wisdom with mortal folly, justifying Christian— if not specifically Puritan— ethics. There are obvious contrasts, culturally and socially, between Mrs. Hanson's "good Room well accommodated with Fire, Bedding, and other Things" and the "cold Ground in the open Woods," where, "both wet and weary, [one] . . . took but little rest"; between the civil- 32 ilized behavior of Ethan Allen's troops following his victory at Ti- conderoga, where the fort "and its dependencies smiled on its con querors, who tossed about the flowing-bowl," and "the injustice and ungentleman-like usage" Allen was later to receive as a prisoner of the British.64 There is even a sort of moral distinction made between "Christian food" and that of the Indians, which was "mostly scanty," according to John Dickenson, the best of it such, as . . . the meanest Negro, here would not touch with his lips: Sometimes the gills and gutts of fish pickt off a dunghill, sometimes the scraps the Indians flung away, and the Water thev boyled their Fish in, though never so undecently handled. 6 Moral differences between Christian law and codes governing the "heathens and barbarians," though clearly evident to the early colo nists, may seem ambiguous to later readers. Distinctions between the laws of New England society and codes of pirate bands, for example, are likely to be centered in questions of "logicality" on one hand and "arbitrariness" on the other— and not, as one might expect, in a contrast between one society's successes and the other's moral atro cities.66 In much the same way, criticisms of Indian morality— once having delineated certain brutalities or cruelties— are apt to focus on issues of education, juxtaposing colonial love of books with In dian suspicion of them, or modesty and propriety, contrasting Indian indifference to nakedness with colonial shock: In a little time some raw Deare-Skins were brought in [writes John Dickenson] and given to my Wife and Negroe-Women, and to us Men such as the Indian-Men wear, being a piece of Platt work of Straws wrought of divers coulours and of a Triangular figure, with a belt of Four Fingers broad of the same wrought together, which goeth about the wa[i]st, and the angle of the other having a thing [thong] to it, comei[n]g between the Leggs, and Strings to the ends of the Belt; All three meeting 33 to gether are fastened behind with a Horsetail or a Bunch of Silk-grass exactly resembling it, of a flaxen-coulour: This being all the Apparell or Covering that the Men wear; And thus they clothed us.5^ The value assigned life by the colonists and the Indians, re spectively, is another important moral contrast in many providence narratives. Nathaniel Morton records that in 1638 "three men were Executed for Robbing and Murthering an Indian near Providences" Of other colonists' reactions to this event, he writes: "Some have thought it great severity, to Hang three English for one Indian; but the more Considerate will easily satisfie themselves for the Legality of it: and indeed, should we suffer their Murtherers to go unpun ished, we might justly fear that God would suffer them to take a more sharp Revenge."®® The Indians, in contrast with the Plymouth Puritans Morton describes, are invariably shown in early essays as having lit tle regard for the lives of colonists, even women and infants. John Williams, for example, writes with an almost incredulous indignation about Indian treatment of a fellow captor, Mary Brooks, whom he de scribes as "a pious Young Woman": [She] came to the Wigwam where I was, and told me, she de sired to bless God, who had inclined the Heart of her Master, to let her come and take her Farewel of me. Said she, by my Falls on the Ice Yesterday, I wrong'd my self, causing an Abortion this Night, so that I am not able to travel far; I know they will kill me to Day: but (says she) God has (praised be his Name: by his Spirit with his Word, strength ened me to my last Encounter with Death. . . . And (says she) I am not afraid of Death: I can through the Grace of God, chearfully submit to the Will of God. Pray for me (said she) at parting, That God would take me to himself. Accordingly she was killed that Day.59 A final ethical contrast, one of central importance, is empha sized in the great majority of providence narratives dealing with ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 34— captivity/redemption themes, where there is a juxtaposing of Protes tantism and Roman Catholicism, Christianity and paganism. James Smith tells how he chuckled as he watched an Indian chief pray to his gods, and how he was then chastised by the chief: "Perhaps you may think my mode, or manner of prayer foolish; if so, you ought in a friendly manner to instruct me, and not make sport of sacred things." Smith apologized to the Indian; but his written observations concern ing the event are these: Here we may see how far the light of nature could go; perhaps we see it here almost in its highest extent. Notwithstanding the just views the great man entertained of Providence, yet we now see him (though he acknowledged his guilt) expecting to appease the Deity, and procure his favor, by burning a little tobacco.60 Smith's late eighteenth-century perspective is shared by those of his contemporaries who attempted objective analysis of Indian culture: though their writings are notably more open-minded than accounts of a century earlier, they are nevertheless built around the same deep- seated tensions between pagan or barbarian codes and the morals, man ners and cultural values of Christian society. Accordingly, the redemption scenes of nearly all captivity nar ratives written before 1800 demonstrate more than the providence of God. They prove the superiority of civilized society through its ability to procure, by one means or another, the physical or spiri tual freedom of its citizens; the manners and values of the society are simultaneously affirmed with its superiority. This is perhaps one reason why neighbors and communities banded together to raise funds and even rescue parties to free unredeemed captives, moved not so much by love or anxiety for the captives as by the need to affirm the — gg- values and pride by which they lived.61 It is certainly a central reason for the reader satisfaction derived from accounts of captives who, instead of being redeemed from their captors, escape them. In addition to the dramatic suspense inherent to the escape is the dra matic pleasure of seeing Yankee ingenuity, courage and self-reliance in action; and, from a traditionally American viewpoint, even more gratifying than an affirmation of the society is the affirmation of the capacities of the individual. Thus, the captivity/escape narrative often retains a stronger appeal for modern readers than narratives of captivity/redemption. And such narratives as those of Philip Ashton, who escaped from pi rates, or of John Knight or David Morgan, who escaped Indians, 62 ap proach most closely of all narratives of divine providence to the dramatic demands of fiction; as such, they certainly may be described as direct forerunners of works by Brockden Brown and Cooper. In passing, a word should be said about the tendency of Indian captives, beginning with Mrs. Rowlandson, to note kindnesses and other commendable attributes of their captors after having spent some time among them.63 Modern readers are inclined to make more of these passages than perhaps they should, seeing in them indications of ma turing sensitivities in those persons who recorded them. In fact, most colonial essayists before 1750 would have viewed compassionate or commendable behavior in Indians or other captors as the kind dis pensations of God "softening the hearts of the Salvages," working through them for the peace and benefit of Christian captives. For, as Larry L. Carey has observed, 36 Puritan tales of captivity reveal a homogeneous society that regarded captivity as God's test of the elect and reaffirmed the solidarity of cultural belief in the Indian and Jesuit as Satanic agents threatening to the Puritans' new Eden in the wilderness. Like later captivities, Puritan accounts rein force the popular belief that Indians are too far removed from civilization and Christianity to be redeemed.64 The non-Puritan captivities of the late 1700s are, on the other hand, more sincere, objective, and thorough in recording admiration for primitive strength and courage, for societies uncluttered with hypocrisy, and for highly complex social and military structures among what are eventually seen as highly disciplined peoples. Two later captivities which effectively exemplify these objective ideals are the narrative of James Smith and John Rhodes's The Surprising Adventures and Sufferings of John Rhodes, a Seaman of Workington (1798).65 The argument that, in addition to their having clearly discern ible moral centers, virtually all Indian captivities were politically motivated is something of an exaggeration. However, it is certainly true that the displacing and killing of Indians from the mid-1600s through the nineteenth century was in measure justified by captivity accounts— or at least by the social and cultural attitudes which they conveyed. By the mid-1700s Indian captivities, together with those written by prisoners of war, often had the express purpose of raising colonial support against the Indians, the French, and the British.66 Some of these later narratives are also blatantly "pro-America," ex tolling the virtues and courage of the colonial militia. Ethan Allen, for example, records the following exchange with his British captors: — -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------37— [I was informed] that the British would conquer the American rebels, hang the Congress, and such as promoted the rebel lion, (me in particular) and retake their own prisoners; so that my life was of no consequence in the scale of their pol icy. I gave him for answer, that if they stayed 'till they conquered America, before they hanged me, I should die of old age!®7 Many disaster narratives also have political overtones. The majority of extant accounts of disaster are written by ministers; frequently these accounts are sermons revised or published as essays. At the same time ministers were warning their listeners and readers through "disaster discourses" of pressing spiritual dangers, they were, inadvertently or otherwise, emphasizing their authority as teachers and interpreters of divine will. They were the ones, in other words, with the power to discern evidences of divine displeas ure; they alone held the authority to assist their congregations in expiating sin. In short, it seems that ministers sometimes used dis asters to increase their influence among their parishioners, to sell sermons "occasioned by" recent earthquakes or shipwrecks, to manipu late (albeit subconsciously) to their personal advantage the fears and doubts of their adherents. Political implications of early historical narratives, whether oriented towards religion or military reform, were nearly always in harmony with public sentiment; at very least, they were rarely in direct opposition to it. Political undertones, as a rule, worked in harmony with moral and social precepts conveyed by providence narra tives, assisting in the affirmation of colonial ideals (especially of what people wanted to believe about themselves) and contributing to the general popularity of analytical histories. 38 There are three other reasons— in addition to their meeting "literary" or social needs— for the popularity of divine providence narratives. The first is a sense of mystery and romance inherent to both captivity and disaster writings: the tight focus on the unusual, the terrifying, the exotic, the primitive. Secondly, many captives, Indian and otherwise, used the horrifying and virtually unbelievable contexts of their experiences to exploit scenes of violence or to in troduce references to sexuality. One imagines that, given the tight restraints of Puritan society, captivity narratives were read for reasons other than— or for reasons in addition to— spiritual en lightenment. Finally, most providence narratives were survival tales which transferred the wisdom of those who had experienced the un thinkable to those whose lives were more mundane; in this, providence accounts anticipated the maelstroms and Antarctic voyages of Poe's fiction. Many descriptions of the "unthinkable"— and certainly those that focused on violence and sexuality— ran counter to underlying moralities of providence writings. Yet even these passages, together with elements of romance and instances of "wisdom transfer," worked in harmony with explications of suffering and implicit social morali ties, at least to this extent: all these elements enriched the provi dence narrative form and broadened its popular and social appeal. There are two primary strains of mystery and romance running through most narratives of divine providence. The first of these is an appeal to a reader's sense of the exotic and consists, in captiv ity narratives, of references to strange lands, unfamiliar scenery, primitive peoples, and strange manners and customs. Specifically, it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------39' is manifest through Philip Ashton's descriptions of pirates and unin habited islands; Daniel Saunders's appendix to his account of ship wreck on the coast of Arabia, which details Arabian geography, peo ples and customs; Charles Rusoe D'Eres's relatively careful descrip tions of North American wildlife; and John Rhodes's comparisons of half a dozen South American tribes.®8 In disaster narratives, the appeal to the exotic is made through careful descriptions, not simply of destruction caused by the disaster, but of the face of nature as the disaster transpired. John Winthrop, for example, writes such an account of the 1755 earthquake; rather than provide a list of damages of the 1727 earthquake, Thomas Foxcroft discusses its duration and the distance from the epicenter its shock waves traveled.69 In much the same fashion, an anonymous author describes a 1799 hailstorm and tornado. This author, unlike those just mentioned, includes an ex haustive "damages list" with his report; nevertheless, his central interest is in carefully detailing the gathering of clouds, the in creasing strength of the wind, the initial fury of the storm, the size and nature of the hailstones or the power of the tornado, the changing face of the storm as it raged, and the eventual subsiding of untoward natural forces.^0 The second strain of romance or mystery is perhaps the more im portant of the two, and consists of references to the miraculous and awe-inspiring. This strain is concerned with ennobling God by record ing in the disaster account the wonders of the earth and the terri fying power of nature. "The Lord of Hosts is the grand EFFICIENT," writes Thomas Foxcroft following the 1727 earthquake: 40 All the Power and Skill of Men can't produce an Earthquake. It must be said of it, this is the Finger of GOD. There have been some Instances, wherein it's thought physical Reasons have been wanting, and the Commotion of the Earth intirely miraculous, the immediate Effect of a supernatural and divine Influence, without any Preparations in Nature. ... [D]oubt- less in ordinary Cases at least, there are natural Causes of this Phaenomenon. But yet the most critical Inquirers into Nature are at a loss how to account for the generating of the Earthquake, and the Operations of it, without ascribing a great deal to the more immediate Influence of some superna tural Power.71 The scope of many natural disasters, especially when such disasters were ascribed to God, demanded in written and oral descriptions a language equal to the disaster itself. Even staid ministers waxed grandiloquent when contemplating the power of a tornado or earth quake. Toward the end of the eighteenth century, when influences of British Romanticism were beginning to be felt in the United States, there were even references made in disaster accounts to the sublimity of nature and to nature's capacity to edify and enlighten man, bring ing him nearer God: The observation of the wonderful works of nature, forms one of the noblest occupations of Man. It elevates him above the narrow views of self, subdues his passions and corrects his prejudices. It leads the mind through natures works up to natures God. To consider the silent operation of the great laws which regulate and govern the natural World in its usual course, is a subject of pleasing contemplation. But to behold the elements broke loose from all restraint and suffered to ravage the earth, requires the calmness of philosophy duly to mark the terrific grandeur of the scene, and the spirit of devotion to adore the awful power and deep councils of God. It therefore seldom happens that sufferers, or mere specta tors possess that presence of mind on such an occasion, that is necessary to judge impartially and narrate faithfully these dreadful appearances. Indeed the mind is so framed that it is liable to be influenced by the passions unperceived, which renders it difficult to guard against exaggeration, on subjects of the marvellous kind.7^ 41 The anonymous author of the preceding passage, who is not, by his own implication, "influenced by the passions unperceived," pro vides the following description of the aftermath of a 1799 hailstorm in Connecticut: At length nature seemed weary with these efforts and rested from her struggle. The scene closed with a display, perhaps the most sublime, which the Heavens ever afford. The clouds broken into numberless wild forms, rolled tumultuously one upon another while the Sun, half obscured, brightened the edges and formed a fine contrast with their angry looks.73 For this writer, together with the vast majority of writers of dis aster accounts, the workings of nature, however terrifying, witnessed of God— often employing such Romantic concepts as "sublimity" to do so. "Are there any among us," he asks, "who are so bewitched with the stupid Philosophy of modern days, as to deny the Being of a GODC?]" Joseph Cady, in a short poem composed in 1799, summarizes the belief that the mystery and power of God are revealed through natural tumults: 1 When we behold the Thunder roll, and lightning fly from poll to poll, the mighty wind with terror roars, Hailstones with rain desend in Showrs, 2 Well may wee stand amaz'd with fear while natures Dredfull worke we hear, adore that mighty God whose hand, works wonders both by Sea and Land.74 The strain of the miraculous is often manifest in captivity nar ratives through accounts of divine protection and care. A Narrative of the Extraordinary Sufferings of Mr. Robert Forbes (1784), for ex 42 ample, tells how Forbes's wife and four of his children were left in the Canadian wilderness for fifty days, with nothing but water and "the inside bark of the fir tree" to eat. Three of the children died, but Mrs. Forbes and the oldest daughter remained alive. "How just and merciful is God," the narrator exclaims, "How gracious is the Lord!" His account is concluded with these assurances: "Mrs. Forbes, from the emaciated state in which we have before described her, has now become a large and corpulent woman. And the child, of which she was delivered soon after their arrival at Norridgewalk, is a healthy and very promising boy."75 In one of his attempts to escape to freedom, Philip Ashton is caught by the choleric quartermaster of the pirate crew. "The Quarter- Master," writes Ashton, with outragious Cursing and Swearing clapt his Pistol to my Head, and snap'd it, but it miss'd Fire. This enraged him the more, and he repeated the snapping of his Pistol at my Head three times, and it as often miss'd Fire; upon which he held it over-board, and snap'd it the fourth time, and then it went off very readily. . . . The Quarter-Master, upon this, in the utmost Fury, drew his Cutlash, and fell upon me with it, but I leap'd down into the Hold, and got among a Crowd that was there, and so escaped the further Effects of his Madness and Rage. Thus, tho' GOD suffer'd me not to gain my wish'd- for Freedom, yet he wonderfully preserv'd me from Death.76 At another time, after escaping to an uninhabited island, Ashton is struck in the thigh by a shark while swimming. The shark, according to Ashton, "so grounded himself (I suppose) by the Shoalness of the Water, that he could not turn himself to come at me with his Mouth, and so, through the Goodness of GOD, I escaped falling a Prey to his devouring Teeth."77 -------------- - 4 - 3 - In addition to providing witness of divine protection and care, the strain of the miraculous in disaster or captivity accounts oc casionally had humanitarian ends. Early captivities, especially those written before 1700 and devoid of obvious political aims, tended to incorporate pleas for divine mercy towards the "heathens," at times suggesting the need for increased colonial dedication to converting the Indians to Christianity. By the same token, natural disasters— accompanied by "scenes of distress, in which afflictions seemfed] almost t[o]o great for human nature to bear"— afforded providential opportunities to proffer compassion and relief, to demonstrate "that sympathy which affords the most peculiar relief to the suffering." According to one writer, When we view a large body of men, involved in one general calamity, our feelings must be peculiarly excited. But when we behold them oppressed beneath the weight of the arm of Om nipotence itself, there is a beautiful propriety in extending our benevolent aid as the scene is enlarged. 8 Particularly for writers of the late 1700s, the "weighty arm of Omni potence" was not so much punitive as authoritative, compelling man, who was made a social creature, to "feel for man," to perceive the exercise of humanity as a "dictate of nature, and a sensation of de light."79 It is true that providence narratives of the late 1700s may men tion "providences" without making any reference to God or to divine grace. One such captivity narrative tells of the ordeals of Mrs. Frances Scott, who, after managing an escape from the Indians, was lost in the wilderness. She subsequently and miraculously found her way back to civilization by following "two beautiful Birds."80 These -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------44- accounts are, however, the exception rather than the rule. When elements of mystery and romance are not being employed to satisfy curiosity or to explain unfamiliar places, peoples and customs, they are most likely to be used in postulating the power, mind, and will of deity. As the captivity narrative became increasingly familiar, so did its depictions of suffering. Perhaps in an effort to reach an audi ence grown callous to "commonplace" Indian atrocities, writers of captivity narratives during the second half of the eighteenth century focused more and more on extreme instances of Indian torture and on unusual illustrations of suffering. For example, two captivities from the 1760s, those of Thomas Brown and Isaac Hollister, tell of escapes from Indians made with a companion. In both cases, the companion dies before the pair reaches civilization; in both cases, the surviving man is tempted to eat his companion's flesh in an effort to save him self. Thomas Brown goes so far as to "cut off of his [companion's] Bones as much Flesh as I could, and tie it up in a Handkerchief," but he cannot bring himself to actually eat his "Friend's Flesh." He is saved in his moment of crisis by two pigeons and a partridge he man ages to kill.81 Isaac Hollister, who is instructed by his dying com panion to eat his flesh, "for I am determin'd, says he, to eat of yours, if you should die before me," records that he "cut out five or six pounds of his [companion's] legs and thighs." This he presumably ate, having no other food, and not arriving at a settlement for four days.82 Instances of cannibalism, together with other occurrences 45 apparently designed to shock and titillate, grew Increasingly common as the eighteenth century progressed. Sometimes the tortures of later captivities are so extreme as to make it difficult to determine where fact ends and fiction begins. John Knight's description of the torture of Col. William Crawford is a well-known and supposedly accurate account: [T]he Colonel was stripped naked, ordered to sit down by the fire, and then they beat him with sticks and their fists. . . . The Indian men then took up their guns and shot powder into the Colonel's body, from his feet as far up as his neck. . . . They then crowded about him, and to the best of my ob servation, cut off his ears. . . . The fire was about six or seven yards from the post to which the Colonel was tied. . . . Three or four Indians by turns would take up, individually, one of these burning pieces of wood and apply it to his naked body, already burned black with powder. These tormenters pre sented themselves on every side of him, so that which ever way he ran round the post [he being tethered to it] they met him with burning faggots and poles. Some of the squaws took broad boards upon which they would put a quantity of burning coals and hot embers, and throw on him, so that in a short time he had nothing but coals of fire and hot ashes to walk upon. In the midst of these extreme tortures he . . . begged [someone] to shoot him.83 But Knight's account is hardly less imaginative or intense in its imagery than depictions of torture scenes in known fictional cap tivities, such as the one by Phillip McDonald and Alexander McLeod, who record the following: A great fire was now made, and the two unfortunate creatures, who as before related, were badly wounded, . . . were stript naked, and bound fast to the tops of two saplings, previously cleared of limbs and bark for the horrid business. . . . An other sapling, rather larger, was now pruned of the limbs, & bent down so as to reach the heads of the victims, by the weight of two Indians, who having with their knives cut round the skin of the victims heads, . . . fastened their hair to the tree, and jumping from the tree, it tore off the whole scalp in an instant. They then threw hot coals and embers on their heads; after this they pierced their bodies all over, and stuck them full of pitch pine splinters, dipt in turpen tine; even in their very eyes some of these instruments of 46 torture were placed, and set on fire. The poor unfortunate creatures, under these dreadful tortures, were suffered to remain about half an hour, when the split pieces of pitch pine before mentioned being wholly consumed, or extinguished by their blood, the infernal savages brought fire and placed under their feet, burning them by degrees till their entrails dropped into the fire.8^ In narratives that are truly exploitative, references to God or to divine providence are, predictably, scarce. Sometimes an obliga tory reference in a conclusion or postscript is made to God's mercy in permitting a safe homecoming. Otherwise, built as they are around violence and bizarre occurrences, these narratives seem designed to shock— and thus to sell— rather than to enlighten or affirm. One instance of arguably exploited tragedy or violence that also manages, through a kind of catharsis, to affirm basic societal values is that recorded on "post-disaster" broadsides. Much like modern media coverage, the broadside provided "eyewitness accounts" of dis asters, managing to supply glimpses of suffering family and friends, postulating reasons for the disaster, and suggesting the parameters of social responsibility relative to the event. Such broadsides were illustrated with woodcuts, most representing death, and were often concluded with elegiac poems, thus blending art and news to increase the breadth of public appeal.85 The cathartic effect of "disaster broadsides" came through the regional or even national sorrow they induced and through their implications that it is possible to learn from tragedy— that disasters can, in a spiritual sense, be prepared for. With the proliferation of violence in captivity narratives came increased sexual references. Accounts of Indian captivity had, from 47 Mrs. Rowlandson on, titillated readers with descriptions of naked savages and the stripping of captives or with subtle references to immorality among primitive peoples. But by the late 1700s even ac counts of stripping and forced nudity were much more graphic than those of earlier narratives, and additional sexual information was being presented. John Rhodes, in his description of having his clothes removed by a South American tribe, writes that when they found him to be "very docile and humble," they "immediately began to strip" him. "They did catch hold in any place," he says, "and so tear to pieces; and my jacket and trousers being pretty good and strong cloth, I was pulled from one to another unmercifully for several minutes, and thus re duced to perfect nakedness." Then, he writes, "they began to examine me, and . . . altho' the colour of my skin at this time was none of the whitest; they did not only view my skin, but turn me about so often and quick that I had the headachte] powerfully." The amount of time the Indians spent examining him, he insists, "could not be much less than an hour."86 In the same way Rhodes's account goes beyond a simple removal of clothing, a number of later captivities included more graphic detail ings of the behavior of Indian women. Charles D'Eres, for example, teases with eroticism in his explanation of the bond between Indian mother and infant. He begins predictably enough, telling how the pa poose is lashed to a board and carried with the mother as she goes about her work. But then he says: [WJhen arrived [at the place she is working] she seeks for some sure and trusty prop, to which she ties the rising hope 48 of her family in such a manner ... as by the gentle wind and melodious notes of airy songsters, the child securely sleeps until exhausted nature rouses the body, which by its infan tile cries soon brings the nurse, who from the yielding breast supplies the calls of nature with ambrosial treat; this (drawn through canals unimpaired by time, or the more dangerous assaults of intemperance, long multiplied and handed down from mother to daughter) affords a liquor at once nourishing and salubrious.87 D'Eres also makes certain the reader understands that "the males are careful not to intrude into the females company at particular times when obliged secretly to retire— during the continuance of certain periodical evacuations to which the females are peculiarly incident, or in the more important hour of nature's struggle into life."88 Rhodes notes a similar modesty among South American Indians during childbirth: [T]he Indian men, notwithstanding their rude uncivilized na ture, do always withdraw on such an occasion, and the women being guided by the pure instinct of nature, and strangers to those new invented means and methods to assist, forward, and sometimes to suppress the course of nature, they very seldom experience any long space of painful travail, nor is the birth attended with any degree of weakness, pain, or sickness as is usually the case with enlightened and overwise peo ple.89 Here, of course, a certain sexual frankness is mixed with an admira tion for things primitive and unfettered, an admiration typical of the late 1700s, anticipatory of Cooper's "noble savage" motif, and manifest, albeit somewhat sporadically, in the writings of other captives of the time period, including James Smith, John Dickenson, Charles d'Eres and, earlier in the century, John Gyles.90 Not everything in James Smith's narrative evinces admiration for his captors; this is true of the sexual material he drops into his history, and especially so of the following anecdote: 4 9 iS n ^ s e ^ e ^ e a r r T a a r f h r " 3 ? 3 ; " 1 ° W a S a b o u t order to gather crannberries. As he was ^therin^h na”e' “ S e speedily* un^ove'reTand rP 4 ™ I * yoTno'f * ^ -s" a l r t " Te they appeared to be ” a very goodTjmour ^ “ Lf s a M t f Jabewa squaws were very bad women snH hari J ’ ' said among them VH *en'and had a very ugly custom condemnir^ tSs as r baPd cult™ a n H ad “lth 9hi">'°‘ 'ete in action for young women to be guilty of.9*XCee 109 immodest Although smith justifies the inclusion of this anecdote with a super ficial aphorism, his primary motivations have more to do, it would seem, with the reader interest he knows it will generate. The insertion of sexual references in factual captivity narra tives almost certainly had something to do with their popularity, especially those of the 1790s and later. Predictably, then, fictional captivities and other nonliteral accounts of suffering appearing during this period also showed an increased attention to sex. Abraham Panther's A Very Surprising Narrative of a Young Neman (1796). for example, tells of a rape attempted by a large Indian or mountain man (it is difficult to determine which) on a defenseless girl; she re taliates with an act of amazing violence; while the man sleeps, she tomahawks him to death, cuts off his head, divides his body into Pieces she can carry, and removes the carcass from the cave which she eventually makes her home." An Affecting History of the Captivity and Sufferings of Mrs. Mary Gerard (ca. 1800). supposedly the account of an Italian woman held captive at Tripoli, tells how Mrs. Gerard is 50 stripped and then bound naked to a torture rack. It is written in first person, its descriptions of torture graphic. Its frontispiece is a woodcut of a woman naked from the waist up, chains hanging be tween her breasts.93 References to sexuality in the earlier captivities were likely made to emphasize contrasts between Christian (and hence chaste) and pagan cultures, and, if the narrator was a woman, to reassure a sus picious reader of the preservation of the narrator's chastity. In the later narratives, however, sex seems to have been included primarily as a selling point, as a means to compete with other popular narra tives which were giving increased attention to sexuality. Finally, the narrative of divine providence was popular because it was a source of wisdom. Nathaniel Morton, writing in 1669, de clared: I shall close up this small History with a word of Advice to the Rising-generation. That as now their godly Predecessors have had large Experience of the goodness and faithfulness of God, and . . . through the grace of Christ, that most of them have held their integrity in his Wayes: That so, such as suc ceed them would follow their Examples, so far re as they have followed Christ; that it might not be said of them, as it is to be feared it may be, by what appears amongst many of them, That indeed God did once plant a Noble vine in New-England, but it is degenerated into the plant of a strange vine.94 One of the greatest tragedies, for the early colonists and es pecially the Puritans, was the waste of "large Experience," that is, of the accumulated wisdom of preceding generations. Thus, narratives of divine providence served to bring to remembrance not only the gen erous dispensations of God but the lives of humble individuals who warranted the receipt of divine manifestations. And so after telling 51 posterity at the conclusion of his memoirs that they "have better Food and Raiment, than was in former Times," Roger Clap inquires: "But have you better Hearts than your Fore-fathers had?"95 Just as Mrs. Hanson emphasized in her history that God’ s providences are not to be challenged by men (a lesson taught through the death of her husband, who was determined to secure the freedom of his captive children against what his wife perceived as divine will), many provi dence writers imply that testimonies and witnesses of God's mercy are not to be wrested or questioned. Instead, they are to be studied as invitations to repent: It is likely that you may be continued in life [declares Ezra Witter from his pulpit following a local tragedy], a short time longer, to hear a few more calls and invitations from God's word and providence— to witness the fall of a few more of your friends and acquaintances, and then you will be called for— your probation-season will be ended, whether you have heard, or whether you have forbone to hear. And your reception and treatment, in the hand of God, will be accord ing to the manner in which you have conducted while here on trial.96 Narratives of divine providence related experiences of individ uals who had "been there" and returned, who had experienced and sur vived. They represented, in terms of wisdom and understanding, the distillation of tragedy, of suffering, of disaster. They proclaimed: This is what counts. This is what truly matters. And although the focus of providence narratives was on elements of the divine, their purpose was not simply to reveal God to man. They were also concerned with revealing man to himself, laying the spiritual, moral, and cul tural foundations for a Zion society. 52 Notes 1. James Smith, An Account of the Remarkable Occurrences in the Life and Travels of Col. James Smith . . . During his Captivity with the Indians . . . (Lexington: John Bradford, 1799), pp. 19, 43, 55—56, 83-88. 2. The discussion of the 1727 earthquake is Thomas Foxcroft's The Voice of the Lord, from the Deep Places of the Earth (Boston: S. Ger- rish, 1727), p. 40. The reference to John Winthrop is to A Lecture on Earthquakes . . . (Boston: Edes & Gill, 1755), p. 31. 3. William Bradford's narrative, for example, may be read as a "captivity": the Puritans, who were restrained, persecuted and some times literally held prisoners by the British, finally escaped to Holland— only to find themselves, after a period of time, in spiritual bondage, their children falling away in the face of "manifest tempta tions." Eventually, with their "third remove" to Plymouth, the Puri tans found a spiritual and physical haven, protected and preserved by God in the wilderness, and made heirs, they believed, of spiritual redemption. 4. Increase Mather, An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences . . . (Boston: Samuel Green for Joseph Browning, 1684), pp. xi—xii. 5. The scriptural reference is to Heb. 12:6; the reference to Michael Wigglesworth is to Meat out of the Eater; or. Meditations . . . (Boston: J. Allen, 1717), Meditation VII, stanza 15 (p. 21); headnote to Meditation X (p. 29). 6. Alden T. Vaughan and Edward W. Clark, Puritans among the In dians: Accounts of Captivity and Redemption, 167G-1724 (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 1981), pp. 3—5. See also Larry Lee Carey, "A Study of the Indian Captivity Narrative as a Popular Literary Genre, ca. 1675— 1875," Ph.D. dissertation, Michigan State University (1978). 7. William Bradford, Of Plymouth Plantation, ed. Harvey Wish (New York: Paragon Books, 1962), pp. 40—41. Bradford, writing in 1648 from a hindsight replete with actual American experience, may have mis- remembered the specificity of the Dutch Puritans' knowledge in 1620. Nevertheless, through such works as de Vaca's Relacion (1542), Richard Eden's Decades of the Newe Worlde (1555), Richard Hakluyt’ s The prin cipal! navigations, voiages and discoveries of the English nation and Thomas Harriot's A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia (both 1589), John Smith's A True Relation of such occurrences and accidents of noate as hath hapned in Virginia since the first 53 planting of that Collony (1608), and R[ichard] Rich's Newes from Vir ginia. The lost flocke Triumphant (1610), together with Smith's charting of the New England coastline in 1614, Britain and much of Western Europe had, by 1620, been provided with a general understand ing of the appearance, vegetation, wildlife, native "salvages," and fruitfulness of the known parts of America. 8. Bradford, p. 41. 9. Vaughan and Clark, p. 2. 10. In reference to John Smith, see Vaughan and Clark, p. 2. John Nicholl's work is An Houre Glasse of Indian Newes . . . (London: Na- thaniell Butter, 1607). 11. Vaughan and Clark, p. 3. 12. Nathaniel Morton, New Englands memoriall . . . (Cambridge: S.G. and M.J. for John Usher, 1699), p. 12. 13. Morton, pp. 12—13. 14. Vaughan and Clark discuss Indian captivities as "spiritual autobiographies" where "the captive, with God's help, battled Satan's agents," and where "God eventually prevailed" through helping the captive, whose "faith wavered but did not break," survive. They also suggest that the captive saw suffering as "a punishment for past sans or present impiety," and the basis for spiritual redemption. See pp. 4-6. 15. Mary Rowlandson, The Soveraignty and Goodness of God, Together with the Faithfulness of His Promises Displayed; Being a Narrative of the Captivity and Res tauration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson(Boston: Samuel Green, 1682), in Richard VanDerBeets, ed., Held Captive by Indians: Selected Narratives 1642—1836 (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press), pp. 43—44. 16. Rowlandson, pp. 89—90. 17. Increase Mather, An Essay . . . , p. 82. 18. Rowlandson, p. 48. 19. Increase Mather, An Essay . . . , pp. 24—25. 20. See James Levernier and Hennig Cohen, eds. The Indians and Their Captives (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1977), headnote to p. 32. 21. Cotton Mather, "A Narrative of Hannah Swarton, containing Won derful Passages, relating to her Captivity and her Deliverance," in Levernier and Cohen, p. 34. -5 -4 - 22. John Barnard, ed. Ashton’ s Memoriall . . . (London: Printed for R. Ford and S. Chandler, 1726), p. 52. 23. Barnard, p. 140. 24. See Mrs. Elizabeth Hanson for an echoing of this sentiment in her God's Mercy Surmounting Man’ s Cruelty, Exemplified in the Captivity and Redemption of Elizabeth Hanson . . . (New-York: To be sold by Samuel Keimer . . . , 1728), p. 5; see also Ezra Witter, Gratitude and obedience to the Preserver of Men . . . (Springfield: T. Ashley, 1799). 25. Increase Mather, An Essay, pp. xii—xiii. 26. Edward Pellham, Gods Power and Providence: Shewed, In The Miraculous Preservation and Deliverance of eight Englishmen . . . (London: Printed by R.Y. for John Partridge, 1631), pp. 9—10. 27. Rowlandson, p. 46. 28. Pellham, p. 34. 29. [John Bath? and Charles Cretchetts?], SAD AND DREADFUL NEWS from New-England . . . (London: for Langly Curtis, 1684), p. 2. 30. [Bath? and Cretchetts?], p. 4. 31. It is ironic, as Richard VanDerBeets points out, that Mrs. Hanson's relatively natural and straightforward account (the 1728 American edition), "told in the homely language of the period," was deemed unacceptable for publication in London in 1760; and so was "lengthened, worked over, and 'improved' in an attempt to give it a more polished style." See VanDerBeets, p. 131. The 1728 American edition, generally speaking, is superior for its sincerity and immediacy, and is the account quoted from in the present work. 32. The quotation regarding her being taken captive comes from Hanson, pp. 7—8; the others come from Hanson, pp. 12—14. 33. Hanson, pp. 34—35. 34. Recounted in Cotton Mather, A Narrative . . . , pp. 34—35. Mrs. Swarton was taken captive by Indians in 1690 and eventually traded into freedom by the French five years later. 35. John Williams, The Redeemed Captive, Returning to Zion . . . (Boston: S. Kneeland, 1758), p. 48. 36. Jean Lowry, A Journal of the Captivity of Jean Lowry and her Children . . . (Philadelphia: William Bradford, 1760), pp. 13—14. 37. Lowry, pp. 18—19. 55 38. Smith, p. 7. 39. Smith, p. 7. 40. Ethan Allen, A Narrative of Col. Ethan Allen’ s Captivity . . . (Norwich: John Trumbull, 1780), pp. 12—13. 41. Allen, pp. 17—18. 42. Allen, pp. 35—36. 43. Allen, p. 17. 44. Increase Mather, An Essay, pp. 75—76. 45. Jonathan Dickenson, Gods Protecting Providence Man’ s Surest Help and Defence . . . (Philadelphia: Reinier Jansen, 1699), title page. 46. See Robert Eastburn, A Faithful Narrative, Of The many Dangers and Sufferings as well as wonderful Deliverances of Robert Eastburn . . . (Philadelphia: William Dunlap, 1758). Although Eastburn's narra tive is tonally problematic, it is highly valued as one of only a few contemporary accounts of the French-Indian War. See VanDerBeets, pp. 151-152. 47. Eastburn, pp. 6—7. 48. Both quotations are from Eastburn, p. 15. 49. Isaac Walden, A Narrative of the Travels of Isaac Walden . . . {[New London]: [Timothy Green], 1773); the quotation is from p. 3. 50. Anonymous, Singular Sufferings of Two Friends, who had lost themselves in an American Forest (York: C. Croshaw, [ca. 1800]), pp. 2, 7—8. This may be the work of a British writer who— despite his obvious ignorance of things American or his dearth of imaginative skills that may have compensated for his ignorance— was attempting to capitalize on British curiosity concerning the hazards of the American wilderness. 51. Lewis Leary, "Benjamin Franklin and the Requirements of Lit erature," in Soundings: Some Early American Writers (Athens: Univer sity of Georgia Press, 1975), pp. 11, 40. 52. Leary, pp. 8, 11, 13, 22, 33—34, 37—38. Leary's comments about Franklin's common sense and humor, together with Franklin's views on American promise, are on pp. 35 and 37. 53. Literally dozens of tracts, religious essays, and sermons published before 1720— and whose titles include such phrases as "plain and practical discourses," "practical Christianity," and 56 "practical godliness"— addressed the challenges of daily Christian living, demonstrating that many of the early colonists kept at least one foot on terra firma even when their attention was directed to the Other World. See, for example, Cotton Mather, Four Discourses accom modated unto the designs of Practical Godliness (Boston: R. Pierce, 1689); Increase Mather, Two Plain and Practical discourses (London: J. Robinson, 1699); Cotton Mather, The Good Old Way. . . . An essay tending ... to revive the languishing interests of general and prac tical Christianity (Boston: B. Green, 1706); and Samuel Phillips, Seasonable Advice to a Neighbour, Given by Way of a familiar Dialogue . . . Done with a View to promote practical Godliness . . . (Boston: S. Kneeland, 1761). 54. See Hanson, pp. 7—9; Allen, pp. 4—11. 55. Dickenson, p. v. 56. Regarding pirates' codes, see Barnard, pp. 14—20. 57. For information concerning Indians and books, see Smith, pp. 56—58; Dickenson, p. 26. The quotation is from Dickenson, pp. 27—28. 58. Morton, p. 111. 59. Williams, p. 11. 60. Smith, p. 55. 61. On "captive-taking" as a primary element of a "contest of civ ilizations," see J. Norman Heard, White into Red: A Study of the As similation of White Persons Captured by Indians (Metuchen, N.J.: Scarecrow Press, 1973), pp. 9—11. 62. Ashton's narrative (edited by Barnard) has been cited; John Knight, A Remarkable Narrative of an Expedition against the Indians with an account of the barbarous execution of Col. Crawford, and Dr. KnighVs escape from captivity ([Leonminster?]: [Charles Prentiss?] for Chapman Whitcomb, [ca. 1790]); Morgan's experiences are recorded in "Remarkable Encounter of a White Man with two Indians. In a Letter to a Gentleman of Philadelphia," bound in Affecting History of the Dreadful Distresses of Frederic Manheim’ s Family . . . (Exeter: H. Renlet, 1793), pp. 11—14. 63. See, for example, Rowlandson, pp. 60—61, 63. 64. See Carey; quotation is from DAI, 39 (1979), 6126A. See also Vaughan and Clark, pp. 3, 5. 65. James Smith, previously cited; John Rhodes, who was a Briton, recorded his experiences in The Surprising Adventures and Sufferings of John Rhodes, a Seaman of Workington . . . (New-York: G. Foreman, 1798). 57 66. For a discussion of the political ends of the captivity narra tive, see Carey; for the politicization of the captivity narrative following 1700 (and, according to Vaughan and Clark, following Cotton Mather) see also Vaughan and Clark, pp. 20—21, and Levernier and Cohen, pp. xix—xii. 67. Allen, p. 21. Allen also argues insistently for stronger United States military action against Britain and American Tories, pointing to British/Tory treatment of loyalist prisoners as justifi cation. Allen's one-sidedness is in measure balanced by such British writings as John M1 Alpine's Genuine Narratives and Concise Memoirs of some of the most Interesting Exploits and singular Adventures of John M'Alpine . . . (Greenock: W. M'Alpine, 1780), a royalist account which shows that not all prisoner mistreatment originated with the British. 68. References have been made previously to Ashton's and Rhodes's narratives. The other two sources are Daniel Saunders, A Journal of the Travels and Sufferings of Daniel Saunders . . . cast away on the coast of Arabia (Salem: Thomas C. Cushing, 1794), and Charles Dennis Rusoe [or Rouso] d'Eres, Memoirs . . . (Exeter: Printed for H. Ranlet, 1800.) 69. Reference has previously been made to Winthrop's Lecture; see Thomas Foxcroft, The Voice of the Lord, from the Deep Places of the Earth (Boston: Printed for S. Gerrish, 1727), p. 5, note. 70. Anonymous, An Impartial Relation of the Hail-Storm . . . and the Tornado . . . (Norwich: John Trumbull, 1799). See especially pp. 5-12, 19-25. 71. Foxcroft, p. 22. 72. An Impartial Relation, p. 5. 73. An Impartial Relation, pp. 8—9. 74. The prose quotation is from An Impartial Relation, p. 28; the poem is written, in ink, inside the back cover of the Huntington Li brary copy of An Impartial Relation, cited earlier, Rare Book No. 106839. The poem is signed "Joseph Cady . . . Sturbridge December 26th 1799." 75. Arthur Bradman, A Narrative of the Extraordinary Sufferings of Mr. Robert Forbes . . . (Philadelphia: Printed for M. Carey, 1794), pp. 11, 12-13. 76. Barnard, pp. 19—20. 77. Barnard, p. 56. 78. An Impartial Relation, p. 19. 58 79. An Impartial Relation, p. 19. 80. Anonymous, A True and Wonderful Narrative of the Surprising Captivity and remarkable Deliverance of Mrs. Frances Scott. . . (Bos ton: E. Russell, 1786), pp. 16—17. 81. Thomas Brown, A Plain Narrative of the uncommon Sufferings, and remarkable Deliverance of Thomas Brown . . . (Boston: Fowle and Draper, 1760), pp. 23—24. 82. Isaac Hollister, A Brief Narrative of the Captivity of Isaac Hollister . . . (Hartford: Printed for Knight Sexton, [1770]), p. 6. 83. Knight, pp. 14—16. 84. Phillip McDonald [and Alexander McLeod], A surprising account of the Captivity and Escape of Philip [sic] M'Donald and Alexander M'Leod . . . (New Hampshire: Henry Blake, & Co., 1794), pp. 4—5. 85. See, for example, the anonymous broadside, A True and Partic ular Narrative of the late Tremendous Tornado . . . (Boston: E. Rus sell, [1792]). This particular broadside is, it should be noted, more accurately described as a "judgment narrative" than a "providence nar rative." 86. Rhodes, pp. 26—27. 87. d'Eres, pp. 101—102. 88. d'Eres, p. 102. 89. Rhodes, p. 67. 90. The writings of Smith, Dickenson, and d'Eres have been cited previously; the narrative of John Gyles is recorded in Memoirs of Odd Adventures, Strange Deliverances, etc. in the Captivity of John Gyles, Esq. . . . (Boston, 1736) and reprinted, in part, in Vaughan and Clark, pp. 94—131. 91. Smith, p. 41. 92. See Abraham Panther [pseud], A Very Surprising Narrative of a Young Woman . . . ([Windsor]: Alden Spooner, [1796]), pp. 8—9. In his Prodigals and Pilgrims: The American Revolution against Patriarchal Authority, 1750-1800, pp. 140—143 and 146—147, Jay Fliegelman dis cusses this narrative as a fictionalization, if not a political sa tire, of an event associated with the Revolutionary War in which an Indian band under the direction of British General Burgoyne mis takenly killed a young Tory woman and her mother. According to Fliegelman, the Panther narrative approaches the status of an early national myth. 59 93. See Maria Gerard, An Affecting History of the Captivity and Sufferings of Mrs. Mary Gerard . . . (Boston: n.p., [ca. 1800]), pp. 2, 11, 22, 28. 94. Morton, p. 197. 95. Roger Clap, Memoirs of Capt. Roger Clap . . . (Boston: B. Green, 1731), p. 25. 96. See Hanson, p. 38; the quotation is from Ezra Witter, Grati tude and obedience to the Preserver of Men . . . and a Warning . . . Occasioned by the Death of Six Young Persons who were Drowned . . . (Springfield: T. Ashley, 1799), p. 9. 6 0 CHAPTER 2 Cotton Mather and the Dark Side of Early American Providence Writings: Narratives of Confession and Judgment The anguish of captivity and disaster narratives, arising from their concern with situations that were, by turns, gripping, harrowing jand terrifying, is largely mitigated by their hopefulness. Despite the hardships, tortures or humiliations an Indian or maritime captive endured, his or her redemption was testimony of the generous compas sion of God and the accessibility of freedom to all prisoners, whether bound by other men or by sin. Beneath the censurings and warnings of disaster accounts is a kind of cautious rejoicing: gratitude for the sparing of life, one's own as well as others in the community; relief • that God has not yet damned the society or culture; and belief that timely repentance will insure the individual and community against God's future anger. Early American narratives of confession and judgment— whether involving social and implicit heavenly judgments of individuals or groups, such as accounts of condemned criminals or of witchcraft and ensuing trials, or consisting of statements issued in personal jus tification, such as those released by opposing religious leaders— carry no such promises of optimism or hope. Instead, these narratives 6r are the often frustrating history of attempts by colonial settlers to come to grips with social and religious law, to sort out individual and group rights, to force human motivations to bend to spiritual decrees. The fact that the colonists erred on the side of justice rather than mercy— and hence in behalf of the letter rather than the spirit of the law— only underscores the increasingly obvious futility of their efforts to establish a truly free society on the crumbling standards of European Protestantism: a mishmash of Old Testament codes, New Testament ethics, and medieval superstitions. Confession narratives, for the most part, are structured around the last words— the confessions— of condemned criminals who died without promise, and in some cases, hope, of redemption. Confessional literature also includes statements and narratives issued in self- defense or self-justification; these documents frequently "confess" weakness or error at the same time they insist on personal strengths and rights. Narratives of judgment, on the other hand, recount— ac cording to societal interpretation— divine judgments against erring individuals. They are somewhat more varied than confessional narra tives, comprised of accounts of criminals who refused to confess, accounts of the New England witch trials and discussions of witch craft, reports of disasters affecting specific individuals who were apparently punished for specific sins, and assessments of the church and state. Both confession and judgment narratives were the by-product of early religious perspectives, Protestant as well as Puritan, centered in the apparent strictness of early clergymen. This ministerial 62 exactness served to perpetuate orthodoxy, minimize religious in fighting, and secure ministerial authority. But it necessitated the worship of an Old rather than a New Testament God, one as unyielding as the shepherds of his colonial flocks. Many of the tensions or challenges faced by the colonists, es pecially the Puritans, seem the result of the almost impossible stan dards they set for themselves. To William Bradford and others of the Mayflower colony, early settlers in New England were "the Lord's people," the new children of Israel who, unlike their ancient prede cessors, would be successful in establishing a Zion in the wilder ness. John Cotton declared in 1630: "There is poore comfort in sit ting downe in any place that you cannot say, This place is appointed me of God." After quickly reassuring his particular audience that they had indeed "found rooting and establishing from God," never to be "rooted up" but to "prosper, & flourish," Cotton outlined for them six mandatory responsibilities: to establish Christ's gospel and ordinances in their lives, to guarantee that the gospel "bore fruit" in the community, to found Jerusalem at home, to be mindful of others abroad, to prevent their children from "degenerat[ing] as the Israel ites did," and to work for the conversion of the Indians to Chris tianity.1 The fact that such exacting demands for perfection were made of a people struggling to plant themselves in an unfamiliar and often hos tile environment is, from a modern perspective, more than sufficient excuse for the "worldliness" which had crept into Plymouth by 1642 and was subsequently bewailed by Bradford: 63 Marvilous it may be to see and consider how some kind of wickednes did grow & break forth here, in a land wher the same was so much witnesed against, and so narrowly looked unto, & severly punished when it was knowne; as in no place more, or so much, that I have known or heard of; insomuch as they have been somewhat censured, even by moderate and good men, for their severitie in punishments. And yet all this could not suppress the breaking out of sundrie notorious sins . . . es- petially drunkennes and unclainnes; not only incontinencie betweene persons unmaried, for which many both men & women have been punished sharply enough, but some maried persons allso. But that which is worse, even sodomie and bugerie, (things fearfull to name,) have broak forth in this land, oftener then once.2 Bradford postulates four reasons for the "wickednes" of the colony. First, he blames men's "corrupt natures, which are so hardly bridled, subdued, & mortified." Second, he wonders whether the devil's efforts to lead the Puritans astray might not be the consequence of the col ony's earnest endeavours to "preserve holyness and puritie amongst them," their determination to live more righteously than other peo ples or groups thus making them a more desirable target. Third, he suggests that the suppression of "wikednes" in the colony through "strict laws" is similar to the damming up of water "so as it cannot rune in a comone road of liberty" as it is inclined to do: "it searches every wher, and at last breaks out wher it getts vente," flowing with violence. Finally, he argues that the smallness of the community renders the concealment of sin impossible— so that evil is not more prevalent in Plymouth than elsewhere, only more obvious.3 The effect, laments Bradford, regardless of specific causes, is that "by one means or other, in 20. years time, it is a question whether the greater part [of the community] be not growne the worser."4 Social morality gradually became the concern of other American colonies as well, but in a rather different sense. While Bradford, 64 and later the Mathers, were growing anxious over a perceived lack of commitment to an established moral code in New England, colonists elsewhere complained of the lack of any code at all. In Virginia, for example, settlers were finding it difficult by the mid-1640s to at tract others to their communities; the province was also losing long term residents to towns in New England and Maryland. Virginia's foun dering was the direct result of its reputation as "a nest of Rogues, whores, desolute and rooking persons," a reputation— John Hammond flatly states— "it deserved."5 Between 1625 and 1660, repeated at tempts were made to change Virginia's image: ministers were recruited (initial "inundations" of unscrupulous and "unprovided Libertines," writes John Smith, "neere consumed us all"), local governments were improved, and laws were made "tending to the glory of God [and] the severe suppression of vices."6 Emigration from Britain to Virginia gradually increased by the late 1660s. A century later, efforts of both France and Britain to establish new footholds in the Louisiana Territory were similarly threatened by reports of its "leud good for nothing" inhabitants. The author of The Present State of . . . Louisiana (1744), for example, declares that the most common Pastime of the highest as well as lowest, and even of the Slaves, is Women; so that if there are 500 Women married, or unmarried in New Orleans, including all Ranks, I don't believe, without Exaggeration, that there are ten of them of a blameless Character; as for me, I know but two of those, and even they are privately talked of.7 The simple fact was that the great majority of women refused to immigrate to any American colony where not even the barest rudiments of religious and social order were preserved; and where there were no women, men refused to stay. Of the earliest colonies, only those in 65 New England could assure their inhabitants of a tightly structured moral society. And, ironically, this morality— the very morality that Thomas Morton and others satirized in their mid-seventeenth-century denunciations of the "Separatists"®— was the power that bound the New England settlements, guaranteed their perpetuation, and made them the strongest of the American colonies through the early 1700s. But even tually all the colonies, beginning with Virginia and Maryland, then New York and the Carolinas, and then Georgia and the Louisiana Ter ritory, embraced (in theory, at least) moral codes similar to those of New England. And, sooner or later, all of them confronted the problems Bradford described in his assessment of Plymouth's "wicked nes," problems made evident by attempted enforcement of moral be havior: the corrupt nature of man and his tendency towards spiritual regression, the potential of a repressed society for violent or gross criminal acts, and the impossiblity of disguising or concealing such behavior in a sparsely-populated American colony. In other words, the legislation of morality seemed to induce backsliding. And in virtually all early American societies, backslid ing involved tremendous costs. For the Puritans, the prevalence of moral torpitude was certain to incite God to revoke rights and bless ings formerly promised to the builders of New Jerusalem and to rain down physical and spiritual destruction upon them. While the expense of general wickedness, real or perceived, was economic rather than spiritual outside New England, it was nonetheless bound to survival, welfare and growth. 66 Narratives of confession and judgment were, with the possible exception of sermons, the most crucial literary weapon against im morality and spiritual regression. Confessional narratives, which examined sin in the context of the gallows, and narratives of judg ment, which imagined a just and angry (rather than a merciful) deity assessing and punishing the sins of miscreants ranging from witches to Sabbath-breakers, were writings centered in fear. As documents which explored evil, probed the minds and sensations of malefactors only hours or minutes away from death, and frequently interpreted tragedy as the fruits of divine retribution, these narratives attemp ted to warn and to induce change through shock and horror. In the name of "truth" and "accuracy," criminal confessions detailed enor mities ranging from bestiality or child abuse to murder of one child by another.9 The avowed purpose of such writings being to "prevent others from like sins," they were countenanced and encouraged even in New England, where, as in other colonies, they were issued posthu mously as calculating, grim reminders of solemn yet ostentatious executions that ended debauched and wasted lives. While narratives of divine providence glorified God through explications of his works and designs, narratives of confession and judgment were centered in un usually graphic descriptions of punishment and evil, descriptions which relied upon darkness, fear, and despair to convey— however im plausibly— the light and hope of salvation. If confession/judgment narratives had a "representative man," it was Cotton Mather. Mitchell Breitwieser has accurately defined Mather as the embodiment of his society's crucial values, an "exemplar of 67 Puritanism" who reduced conversion, or the "annihilation of self," to an "intrinsic affective kernel" comprised of "humiliation, submis sion, and union."10 In Mather's view the criminal is an egoist who understands nothing of humility or submission, a "Bruitified Wretch" that has "no Heart for Christ, no Heart for Penitence, no Heart for Piety left unto him," consumed by a "Fire of Lust" which "hath Baked [his Heart] into such Insensible Hardness . . . that nothing will work upon [him]": He is more prone to Vain Thoughts, than to Right ones: Leave this Wild Ass Colt unto himself, and he'l rush Head Strong into every False Way. If God, the Father of Lights, do not Enlighten us, we shall see nothing aright: But He witholds his Enlightning Influences, from the minds of those, who do not Love the Truth, which He ha's [sic] given them: The Powers of Darkness then set in to Darken them, with Strong Delusions; They are Blinded by the God of this World-. And, Strong Delusions do certainly lead men to Strange Iniquities. Yea, sometimes God gives men over to such Strong Delusions, that they will count the most bloody Murders, to be a Good Service to Heaven.11 Criminal cases seemed to have held a powerful fascination for Mather, due in part, perhaps, to his lifelong battle against the self, beginning with the lengthy, "guilt-ridden" prayers of his youth in which he confessed "masturbation performed or considered" and the "loathsome defilement of his soul,"12 and continuing through his adulthood in his suits— against increasing odds— for domestic peace, theological and social distinction, and divine approval. If indeed Mather was ever completely victorious in overcoming himself, it was only because of a profoundly difficult and frequently disappointing existence that left him no legitimate or logical option, apart from bitterly denouncing God and all religion, but to humble himself lit erally to the dust. 6 8 - Mather retained enough egoism to believe, perhaps correctly, that what he himself found difficult might loom virtually impossible to an average man— that nothing less than sharp and constant warn ings would prevent the "natural man" from overcoming the "spiritual" in the lives of his parishioners. For example, "if you wallow in the Nasty Vices, and Puddles of Unchastity," Mather taught, God will give you over, to be Almost all in Evil! . . . One thing very Frequent is This; A person that falls into One Act of Unchastity, if they don't presently with Bleeding Souls fly to the Blood of the Lord for Pardon, they are usually left unto another.13 Narratives of confession and judgment were the natural vehicle for Mather's warnings; through his skillful if ponderous literary style, they were transformed from the rather simplistic historical accounts of Bradford or the mystically-centered writings of his fa ther Increase into sophisticated Ramean analyses of real-life cause- effect relationships between sin and retribution.14 Thus, chronicles of present-day witches became exemplum of the reality and immediacy of Satanic powers; drownings of Sabbath-breakers or the ruin of drunkards warned of the justice of God; the histories and confessions of condemned criminals were often much more forceful and convincing demonstrations of the fruits of evil than parallel scriptural narra tives, especially when such histories were concluded with the ulti mate object lesson: public executions. And Mather's writings of per sonal justification— whether defenses of his father and the family name against religious detractors such as Quaker George Keith or denunciations of men like Robert Calef who sought to undermine his 69 credibility and i n t e g r i t y ! 5— asserted Puritan supremacy in the heir- archy of world theology. In short, the confession/judgment narrative was central to Mather's canon, where it was utilized in its three primary aspects: histories/confessions of criminals, accounts of witches and witch craft, and statements issued in personal justification. In Mather's hands, the American confession/judgment narrative acquired a degree of sophistication and respectability; it also gained immediate and widespread popularity and an immense staying power through Mather's writings on witchcraft, writings which continue to influence the American psyche through the present. As previously emphasized, the narrative of confession or judg ment may seem, on first reading, to be little different from the providence narrative: both are concerned with suffering, often as the result of sin; both include direct or indirect testimony of God; both analyze spiritual, physical, societal or natural aberrations. Again, the primary difference is in tone: while providence narratives end optimistically in the physical and spiritual redemption of the nar rator or other survivors, confession/judgment narratives end most often in death and damnation. Though either may be read as a caution ary literary type, one is positive— a warning of encouragement, as it were— and the other negative, a warning of despair. A second crucial distinction is in rhetorical form. Narratives of divine providence, more often than not, are rather simple and un formed reports which resemble nothing quite so much as journal en 70 tries. Confession/judgment narratives, on the other hand, are almost always cause-effect accounts where punishment and retribution are shown to be the logical and unchanging consequences of sin. Even in the case of material written in self-justification, the cause-effect paradigm is followed: the writer traces the causes and effects asso ciated with his perceived sin, shows these to be mistaken, and then argues, in cause-effect format, that the real sin lies with his accusers. Though this distinction certainly existed before Mather's time, it was made much more definite through his writings— to the extent that it would not be amiss to defend it as his contribution to the confession/judgment genre. The cause-effect structure of narratives of confession and judg ment results in a somewhat tighter logic and increased particularity than exists in providence narratives. Thus, in the comparatively few extant accounts of disasters that may be termed judgment rather than providence narratives, there is, in addition to a difference in tone, a distinction in specificity. When it comes to human loss occasioned by disasters, for example, providence narratives deal with groups, communities and nameless clusters, while judgment narratives portray individuals. Thus, A true and Particular Narrative of the late Tre mendous Tornado, or Hurricane (1792), a judgment narrative, singles out of thirty drownings caused by the hurricane "a Mr. Wade, his wife and 2 of their children, [and] his brother" who were "drowned from one boat" while "taking their Pleasure on the Water" on the Sab bath.16 Though such narratives, in their warnings and admonitions, 71 may address survivors or mourners as a group, they demand individual application: What impression ought this Providence to make upon you? . . . If you do not seriously regard [it], it is likely that it will injure rather than benefit you. If it does not soften, it may harden your hearts. If you do not regard this providence, what providence is more likely you will be persuaded to regard? Do you expect one more alarming and shocking than this? And, as might be expected from a narrative of judgment, the warning emphasizes fear— "alarm and shock"— in its attempts to modify the behavior of its readers. An accompanying concern with despair or mis fortunes occasioned by a disaster, especially when such misfortunes are seen as punishment for sin, often results in a disturbing author ial condescension towards the disaster's victims. "Let us take a thankful Notice of his [God's] distinguishing Mercy to us," declares Thomas Foxcroft in a discourse which followed the 1756 earthquake in New England, "while we ascribe Righteousness to him, in his terrible Doings towards others."18 And even where condescension is not ap parent, there remains a sense of the victims' being used— by the nar rator if not by God himself— for the benefit of the righteous. "The blessed God hath made some to come from the Damned," writes Mather in his introduction to Memorable Providences, Relating to Witchcrafts And Possessions (1689), "for the Conviction (may it also be for the Conversion} of us that are yet alive." Thus, the specificity and logic of the confession/judgment narrative frequently results in an exploitation of victims, even in the case of "voluntary" confessions made by condemned criminals, an exploitation which providence writ ings generally avoid. --------------------------------------------------------------------- T2- If recorded confessions, sermons to condemned criminals, bio graphical sketches, letters, and broadside "ballads" are considered separately, there are approximately 270 documents appearing between 1669 and 1800 which relate to criminal executions.19 Of that number, probably a third are biographical confessions, biographical sketches, narrative ballads, or some other narrative form, making "execution narratives" the most substantial component of the confession/judg ment genre. The roots of the American execution narrative are in the broadsides and other "death notices" accompanying public executions in England several decades before America began to be colonized. And, as Sandra Peterson suggests, the morality of such narratives origi nated in Britain, where persons "regarded as criminals by the state invariably confessed, even if they were innocent" because "they feared being displaced from the known social and religious structure more than they feared capital punishment" and because "as society de fined the individual, so he was."20 Perhaps at no time in this history of civilization have the pressures for religious and social conformity been so great as they were in Puritan New England, the birthplace of the American execution narrative. Puritan conformity produced an unwillingness among the society to consider any sin so heinous as to be unforgiveable or any member "lost" until cut off by death while yet embracing sin. As long as his confessions and ensuing humility and repentance were sincere and deep enough, even the most hardened criminal justifiably could hope that his soul was not beyond redemption. 73 These attitudes resulted in an odd sort of "humanity" to con demned prisoners in New England, especially those prisoners who de monstrated some willingness to mend their ways. These were permitted "sufficient time" between sentencing and execution to earn forgive ness (usually from six to eight weeks), during which period they were allowed personal audience with ministers or other religious counsel ors; for the most part, they were reasonably well fed and otherwise treated kindly. The reports of repentant criminals, though shocking and emphatic in their portrayal of death as the "wages of sin," con vey a muted hope for the redemption of their souls; and, to this lim ited degree, they are optimistic. Accounts of unrepentant criminals, on the other hand, elicit no such hopefulness. Rather, they tend— inadvertently, to be sure— to underscore the rigidity of the Puritan system and the authoritarian nature of the Puritan God. As indicated previously, narratives of repentant criminals may be described as "confession narratives"; those of the unrepentant are best labeled "judgment narratives." Of these terms, the latter best describes the earliest accounts of Amer ican executions, which made little or no attempt to record statements of confession. The first execution among the Puritans— and likely the first execution among any of the colonies in the New World— was of John Billington, Sr., in 1630. As recorded by Bradford, Billington "way laid a yong-man, one John New-comin, (about a former quarrel,) and shote him with a gune, wherof he dyed." Billington was subsequently 74 found guilty of "willfull murder, by plaine & notorious evidence" and was "accordingly executed." Bradford continues: This, as it was the first execution amongst them, so was it a mater of great sadnes unto them. They used all due means about his triall, and tooke the advice of Mr. Winthrop and other the ablest gentle-men in the Bay of the Massachusets, that were then new-ly come over, who concured with them that he ought to dye, and the land to be purged from blood.21 The "purging of the land from blood," exacting life for life in accordance with Old Testament law, seems to have been the basis for subsequent executions both in and out of New England; in this regard, the traditions of Britain and other European nations were transmitted to the American colonies. Bradford is careful to emphasize the non- discriminatory application of the law when he discusses the second execution in Plymouth eight years later. Four men, Arthur Peach, Thomas Jackson, Richard Stinnings and Daniel Crose, were convicted of the murder and robbery of a Narragansett Indian. Despite the com plaints of "some of the rude & ignorante sorte . . . that any English should be put to death for the Indeans," all except Crose, who es caped, were executed, giving members of the Narragansett tribe who were present "& all the countrie good satisfaction."22 Bradford reports one other execution, this in 1642, apparently the first in America for sexual crimes. Considered criminal behavior, certain sexual practices and perversions such as homosexuality, be stiality, and incest were deemed second only to murder in their seriousness. The precedents for their being capital offences were, once again, biblical codes and European tradition. Thomas Granger, a young man of 16 or 17, was, says Bradford, 75 detected of buggery (and indicted for the same) with a mare, a cowe, t[wo] goats, five sheep, 2. calves, and a turkey. Hor rible it is to mention, but the truth of the historie requires it. He was first discovered by one that accidentally saw his lewd practise towards the mare. (I forbear perticulers.) Being upon it examined and committed, in the end he not only confest the fact with that beast at that time, but sundrie times be fore, and at severall times with all the rest of the forenamed in his indictmente; . . . and confirmed it at his execution. And whereas some of the sheep could not so well be knowne by his description of them, others with them were brought before him, and he declared which were they, and which were not. And accordingly he was . . . executed about the 8. of September, 1642. A very sade spectakle it was; for first the mare, and then the cowe, and the rest of the lesser catle, were kild before his face, according to the law, Levit: 20.15. and then he him selfe was executed. The catle were all cast into a great & large pitte that was digged of purposs for them, and no use made of any part of them. 23 Cotton Mather tells of another instance of bestiality occuring "in the Southern Parts of this Country, about the Year 1641." His story, told as truth, is much more fantastic than Bradford's; its moral— the fact that serious crimes will be discovered and punished despite attempts to conceal them— is the same: [A] Beast brought forth a Creature that had something of an Humane Shape. This Monster had a Blemish in one Eye, just like what a loose Lew'd Fellow in the Town, was known to have. This great Monster, being upon this Account Suspected, was Examined upon that suspicion, and upon his Examination Confessed his Guilt of most infa[m]ous Bestialities, for which he underwent a deserved Execution.24 In Pillars of Salt (1699) Mather includes two accounts of per sons executed for sexual crimes, one for bestiality and the other for adultery. His narrative of "one Potter, by Name, about Sixty years of Age, Executed for Damnable Bestialitiesi " resembles Bradford's account of Granger in most particularities: Potter's sins are eventually dis covered, the various animals with which he has had relations are killed in his view at the gallows, and he suffers a lamentable but 76 deserved end on June 6, 1662, at New Haven. There is, however, one important difference: Potter has not only attempted to conceal his sin but to retain "a Reputation, for Serious Christianity," showing himself to be "Devout in Worship, Gifted in Prayer, Forward in Edi fying Discourse among the Religious, and Zealous in Reproving the Sins of other People." In fact, says Mather, "Every one counted him, A Saint." And despite "Remarkable Warnings from Heaven, to Repent of his Impieties," he had continued his practices for "no less than Fifty years together." Mather is, of course, working up to the climax of his tale: the inevitibility of Potter's discovery, the fact that "the burning Jealousy of the Lord Jesus Christ, at Length made the Churches to know, that He had all this while seen the Covered Filthi ness of this Hellish Hypocrite, and exposed him ... to the Just Judgment of Death."25 Mather's account of "one W.C." who was executed in Boston for adultery, for a "Rape committed by him, on a Girl, that Lived with him; though he had then a Wife with Child by him" is significant for two reasons: first, Mather is careful, as always, to trace the man's spiritual fall, beginning with his disobedience to his parents and youthful immorality, continuing in his living "very Dissolutely" and breaking vows he had earlier made to God, and ending in his hardness of heart, his scoffing "at the Ordinances of God," and his "overmuch" wickedness. Second, the narrative points up a recurring Puritan theme: the importance of mortality as a spiritual proving ground, the value of time: When he came to the Gallowes, and saw Death (and a picture of Hell too, in a Negro then Burnt to Death at the 77 Stake, for Burning her Masters House, with some that were in it,) before his Face, never was a Cry, for, Time! Time! A World for a Little Time! the Inexpressible worth of Time! Uttered, with a more unutterable Anguish. He then Declared, That the greatest Burden then Lying upon his miserable Soul, was his having Lived so unprofitably under the Preaching of the Gospel,26 Though Mather published these accounts at the turn of the cent ury, each had occurred some twenty years earlier. Indeed, by the early 1700s executions for sexual sins— unless they also involved murder or abortion— had become rare. The exceptional case generally involved unusual circumstances, such as those recounted in The Last Words and Dying Speech of Robert Young {broadside, 1779). Young, an inveterate womanizer, tells how he eventually fell deeply in love with a young woman who agreed to marry him; then, only days before the wedding and while returning home late at night, drunk, he encoun tered his fiancee's eleven-year-old sister on a deserted country lane, where he violently raped her.2^ in a doggerel ballad issued on a separate broadside, Young alludes to the seriousness of his crime: I took advantage of the dark'ning hour, (For beasts always by night their prey devour) This little child, eleven years of age, Then fell a victim to my brutal rage; Nor could the groans of innocence prevail; O pity, reader, though I tell the tale; Drunk with my lust, on cursed purpose bent, Severely us'd th'unhappy innocent. Her sister dear was to have been my wife, But I've abus'd her and must lose my life; Was I but innocent, my heart would bleed To hear a wretch, like me, had done the deed.28 The age of the victim— her "innocence"— would have undoubtedly insti gated public furor against Young; her relationship to Young's in tended wife would, according to then-current thought, have rendered 78 Young's rape incestuous and thus grounds for execution. For all in tents and purposes, however, the rape of an adult woman seems to have ceased to carry a capital sentence by the mid-1700s, the result of an increasing reluctance to punish crime with death. Even by 1699, when Mather held up past executions of sex offenders as proof of the in evitable end of dissolute lives, such warnings may have been more figurative than literal. There are records of criminal executions outside New England as early as the mid-1600s, fruits of the adoption of law, order, and Christian morality in the scattered colonies. Reports of early exe cutions in Virginia and the Carolinas are sketchy, just as they are in early New England, providing only cursory information about the sinner and his crimes. Later narratives, clearly influenced by those published in Boston, provide much more information and are more ob viously moralistic in tone. Perhaps nothing was so influential in stimulating the development of execution literature, both in and out of New England, as the published versions of execution sermons de livered by the Mathers. The Wicked Mans Portion, the first published sermon occasioned by an American execution, was delivered by Increase Mather in 1675; the second did not appear for another eleven years, when Cotton Mather delivered The Call of the Gospel Applyed to one James Morgan in 1686. The "Publication" of these initial sermons was "for the good of the young ones ... of the Rising Generation in New-England," to "Promote their Conversion and Salvation"; the execution of a sinner, 79 with its "heart-piercing groans of a deadly wounded man" was for the convincing of "fellow-Sinners that they would Turn now everyone from the evil of his way."29 Becoming the structural pattern for all American execution orations which followed, the Mathers' sermons si multaneously established the themes which governed subsequent exe cution narratives, both in and out of New England. These were: that death prepared for through unfeigned Christian living was a peaceful if not sweet experience; and that, conversely, untimely death (that which took the unrepentant sinner by surprise) was terrifying and racking beyond words. Virtually all execution narratives assume, on the parts of read ers, an understanding of the primary concept behind the Mathers' themes, , the Christian concept of death, a concept founded on the no tion that— as Cotton Mather argued— it was a demonstration of "the purest Sobriety, the highest Reasonableness, in every Man living, to count himself, not at Home, until he die[d]." If "prudently appre hended," death brought an end to mortal trials and the beginning of eternal happiness; and so Mather wrote: "Let your Meditations upon your Death be solemn, serious, and very frequent; so your last Enemy will be so far from an hurtful, that he shall not be so much as a frightful Adversary."30 By the mid-1700s there were even handbooks instructing people how they should die, such as that by South Caro lina minister John Zubly, The Real Christian's Hope in Death; Or An Account of the edifying Behaviour of several Persons of Piety in their last Moments (1756). Zubly's work, which is largely derivative, includes among its "patterns" an anonymous young lady who was re 80 warded in her determination to enter heaven with a song on her lips (though it seems to have taken her six attempts and six rousing choruses before she was at last admitted), as well as the pious Mr. Boehm who refused to be confined to bed by his illness or even to be slowed in his charitible works, and who eventually expired in the midst of his morning religious devotions.31 The other perspective of death was death unanticipated, death scorned. It was best typified by the death of Judas Iscariot, the archetypal traitor and murderer who received as the "wages of his unrighteousess" a "horror of his conscience" which "drave him to a halt[e]r for relief," an "everlasting infamy," and an eternal con signment to hell, "the place of devils, his own place."3^ The suf ferings of the latter-day Judas, the "Christless sinner," were un imaginable, according to a catechism published by Samuel Moody of New Haven, a composition reminiscent of the sermons of Jonathan Edwards: Quest. Whither are you going, Christless sinner? Answ. I am going to hell. . . . Q. How long are you to stay in that place and company before you returni 7\ A. I shall never return; but dwell there thro' the long and endless ages of eternity. Q. But how will you be able to endure so hot a fire forever and ever; seeing now you have no patience to endure the top of your finger in the flame of a candle, for the space of a minute or two much less to hold an arm or leg in a flaming oven, for the space of half an hour: Will God give you more patience then? A. No; I shall have no patience to bear the intolerable pains of hell; but Almighty Power will keep me from consuming; and I shall be chained fast, and so must be forc'd to bear it, while I keep cursing GOD, blaspheming CHRIST, gnawing my tongue for pain, and gnashing my teeth for rage and madness; Yea, roaring, howling and shrieking for horrible anguish, and eternal despair; yet bear it I must, tho' bear it I can't.33 81 Execution narratives in effect exploited ignominious death, not to glorify it but to show it in emphatic contrast with death "properly apprehended." But the exploitative quality of execution literature was obviously problematic. Some readers were undoubtedly affected by it as Mather and others intended them to be, shocked into more cir cumspect lifestyles through a fear of death. Others just as certainly read execution accounts— as Sandra Peterson has observed— as "pop ular literature,"34 moved by them in exactly the same manner as their counterparts a century or so later would be stirred by pulp fiction. The Puritans and the colonists who followed them were, wittingly or otherwise, masters of the art of covering moral hooks with the bait of titillation. While The Vain Prodigal Life, And Tragical Penitent Death Of Thomas Hellier . . . [of] the Country of Virginia (1680)— one of the first narratives of an American execution to receive widespread cir culation in Britain— is neither so graphic nor so shocking as later execution accounts, it is nonetheless exploitative. Sandwiched be tween a moral poem and prologue at one end of the pamphlet, and Hel- lier's last words and some editorial "Reflections" at the other, is "The Life of Thomas Hellier, With The manner of his perpetrating the following Horrid Fact [of Murder]: From His own Confession to a Friend in Prison the night before his Execution." Neither the poem/ prologue nor the "Reflections" can entirely negate the horror of what were among the first American ax murders. Hellier, to escape debts and familial responsibilites in Britain, had become a bond laborer in Virginia. So ill-used was he by his mistress that he eventually plot- 82 ted to kill her and his master, thinking, he said, "that by ridding [them] out of the way, I might with ease gain my Freedom." And so: Betimes in the Morning before day, I put on my best Cloaths, then got my Ax, and attempted two or three times to enter my Master's Lodging-room, still my heart failing me, I stept back again; but however at length in I rushed: A Servant- maid, who lay every night in the same Room, passed along by me the same time with her Bed on her shoulder, or under her arm, to whom I offer'd no violence, but let her pass un touched; nor had I meddled with her, had she kept out of my way. From her I passed on to my Masters Bed, and struck at him with the Ax, and gave him several blows, as near as I could guess, upon the Head: I do believe, I had so unhappy an aim with my hand, that I mortally wounded him the first blow. My Mistress in the interim got out of Bed, and got hold of a Chair, thinking to defend her self; and when I came toward her, struggled, but I proved to[o] hard for her; She begg'd me to save her Life, and I might take what I would, and go my way, But all in vain, nothing would satis fie but her Life, whom I looked on as my greatest Enemy; so down she went with out Mercy. The Wench to whom I intended no hurt, returned, as I suppose to rescue her Mistress; whereupon she suffer'd the same cruel Fate with the other two.35 In an echo of Increase Mather's 1675 execution sermon, the anon ymous compiler of Hellier's confessions excuses his publication, to gether with its shocking details, as an effort to thwart Satan's use of "old Temptations on men, by new devices, ... to act afresh old Crimes over again," arguing that "new Crimes should be attended with new Relations, new Admonitions" since "Examples of former times are either misbeliev'd, call'd in question as Romantick uncertainties, or rejected as stinking of Antiquity."36 Perhaps this writer's argument has merit: it is highly unlikely that Hellier's confession at the gallows would have much interest were it published separately from the account of his crimes. Certainly it mimics previous confessions and anticipates those published subsequently, almost as if— in speak ing it— Hellier had been reading down a standard checklist of sins, 83 follies, warnings and excuses. The sins leading this list are "dis obeying of Parents" and "profaning the Sabbath"; cursing and swearing ("Beware," says Hellier, "of hideous Oaths and Curses, as Damn me, and Sink me [for] what if the Lord should take thee at thy word?") and falling into debt; "Stealing, Lying, Whoring, Drunkenness, and lewd Company"; and, finally, covetousness.37 Hellier's final declaration, though more graceful than those of other condemned men, is represen tative: "Now to conclude all[:] Lord, for thy Mercies sake, open Heavens Door, and let in not ... a penitent Thief, or Swearer, or Lyar, or Drunkard, or Profaner of the Sabbath, or Murderer, or lewd Liver; but one who is all these."38 Although Hellier's confession is a threadbare recitation of er rors and wicked ways, it is a nonetheless integral component of his dying words. The confession of sins was, in both Puritan and Anglican theology, a prerequisite to the infusion of grace. While a condemned prisoner's confession did not assure that his humility was sincere, it was at least an indication of its merit; while the peace which pre sumably followed confession was no guarantee of redemption, it was at least a token of God's forgiveness. Because of its tremedous spir itual implications, the confession may well be considered the most crucial aspect of the execution narrative.3^ But a criminal's act of confession met important social needs as well. It confirmed the community's decisions to take his life, first of all. And, because the contrition of the prisoner's final utter ances and ministerial allusions to humility, repentance and eternal happiness worked together to blunt the impact of the prisoner's 84 death, a final confession was useful in permitting the community to rest secure in the justice— perhaps even the merciful neatness— of it all. Where there was no confession, there was, in the eyes of the Church and hence society, no hope. Thus, of "Two Young Women" exe cuted in Boston in 1693 for "murdering their Bastard Children," only one— who submitted a "Paper of Confessions? ' and was "present before the Lord" while her execution sermon was preached— was seen by Cot ton Mather as having hope of forgiveness; the other died outside the covenant.40 The anonymous writer of a broadside reporting a double hanging, after having transcribed the confession of one of the crimi nals, disgustedly observes of the second man: John Ormesby an Irish man by Birth, aged about Thirty eight Years, who received Sentence of Death at the same time with Matthew Cushing, appear'd very stupid at the time of his re ceiving Sentence, and remain'd very much so till the Day of his Execution; and we could get nothing from him worthy of any publick Notice.41 And a broadside reporting the execution of six pirates in Boston in 1704 includes the following report of each man's attitude at the gallows: I. Capt. John Quelch. [The Ministers] much desired him to Glorify God at his Death [and confess] the Sins that had ruined him, . . . yet being called upon to speak what he had to say, it was but thus much: ... I desire to be informed for what I am here, I am Condemned only upon Circumstances. . . . [And] when Lambert was Warning the Spectators to beware of Flou]l~Company, Quelch joyning, They should also take care how they brought Money into New-England, to be Hanged for it! II. John Lambert. He appeared much hardened, and pleaded much on his Innocency: . . . [but] seem'd in great Agony near his Execution: he called much and frequently on Christ, for Par don of Sin .... III. Christopher Scudamore. He appeared very Penitent since his Condemnation, was very diligent to improve his time going to, and at the place of Execution. 85 IV. John Miller. He seem'd much concerned, and complained of a great Burden of Sins, to answer for; Expressing often, LordI What shall I do to be Saved! V. Erasmus Peterson. He cryed of injustice done him; and said, it is very hard for so may mens Lives to be taken away for a little Gold. ... He told the Executioner, he was a strong man, and Prayed to be put out of misery as soon as possible. VI. Peter Poach. He seem'd little concerned, and said but little or nothing at all.42 Implicit in this brief summary are the views of the community— as well as the anonymous reporter— regarding the eternal fate of each pirate. It seems a consensus that, based on the confession of each, at least three of the men are doomed, the tragedy of their loss miti gated only by the knowledge that the local religious community was exhaustive in its efforts to redeem all six: The Ministers of the Town, had used more than ordinary Endea vours, to Instruct the Prisoners, and bring them to Repen tance. There were Sermons Preached in their hearing, Every Day: And Prayers daily made with them. And they were Cate chised; and they had many occasional Exhortations. And no thing was left, that could be done for their Good.4^ Though a condemned man who refused to make a confession was cer tainly believed to be without hope, confession alone may have been insufficient. As emphasized previously, confession was valid only if it was sincere; its sincerity could be roughly assessed only by the humility it engendered. True, such judgments were purely abstract and subjective. Yet it is hard to imagine that thinking readers, even those whose religious opinions coincided with beliefs held by the general public, were always palliated by the confessions included in execution accounts. When a confession is not ludicrous, it is fre quently hypocritical or contradictory. More often than not, it dis plays less humility than pride. Thomas Lutherland, for example, exe cuted for robbery and murder, includes the usual catalogue of sins in 86 his confessional statement— "Drunkenness, Whoring, Swearing, Tempt ing Young Women to Debauchery, and then leav[ing] them; then . . . Theft , and now . . . Murder." Yet he seems more concerned with finding justification for his crimes than he does with experiencing honest sorrow and regret, blaming his thievery, for example, on his victims' carelessness. "I pray, good People," he says, take care of your Goods, and leave them not in Out-houses carelessly, which are great Temptations to Sinners, the Devil takes such opportunities to perswade sinners to Steal and Rob. I declare, I never took any Goods out of a House that was lockt. Good People pray take warning by my Example.44 Similarly, Matthew Cushing, who was executed for burglary, con fesses that, after having done a stint as a sailor, he "liv'd on Shore, and spent [his] time ... in Drinking, Swearing, Whoring, and almost all other Vices." Then he declares: I was first led into those Vices here, by a Person whose name I care not to mention, altho' he be still living in this Place. . . . Take Warning by me all you Young Men, Beware of bad Company; Beware of all Sins, especailly take heed that you do not associate with Lewd Women, for if you do, they will lead you on to the worst of Crimes.45 Perhaps this was the reason Cotton Mather, among others, was hesitant to assume the divine role of passing judgment, of dispensing false hope, of declaring who had been redeemed and who had not. "I Fear, I Fear!" he says, speaking of one condemned woman, "This is not All that she should have Acknowledged."45 Protestant minister Moses Baldwin's address to condemned murderer William Shaw in 1771 is gov erned by a similar caution, Baldwin's hopefulness outweighed by a sense of his despairing of Shaw's capacity to hear his instructions and follow them: 87 Now then, poor Man! who have nothing to recommend you to God; no good works to boast of; who have been a great and notor ious offender, let me bid you once more come under a sense of your sinful, miserable and helpless estate; . . . come sen sible that there is help in the Lord, and surrender yourself up to Jesus Christ .... His blood is all-sufficient for the pardon of your great sins .... The Spirit of Christ can create anew an old transgressor, and fit you for heaven.— All things are possible with God.47 Though ministers such as Mather and Shaw are just as careful not to condemn as they are not to raise false hope, reserving condem nation as a divine prerogative along with redemption,4® they tend to be relatively frugal in their dispensing of comfort. If they err, they do so on the side of objectivity and justice, reflecting the belief that condemning or vindicating behavior is much different than condemning or vindicating men. When assessing the place of execution narratives in early Ameri can society, then, the element of confession becomes something of a bugbear. Deviations from the "standard" execution narrative— the nar rative in which exploitation is minimal, confessions sincere, and hypocrisy virtually nonexistent— are seemingly frequent. A contem porary and perhaps somewhat habitual reader of execution literature could, in relation to deviations from the standard, have a) been blind to them, b) purposely ignored them in deference to his ortho doxy or other beliefs, or c) overlooked them, finding interest out side the express intentions of the documents. Conceivably, there were readers in all three categories. But as the liberalizing influences of the socio-religious evolution of the eighteenth century whetted appetites for European fiction, readers in the latter category almost certainly began to outnumber those in the other two. 88 A sign of this change, if not a contributor to it, was the in creasing number of unusual or bizarre confession/judgment narra tives, a parallel to the increasingly exploitative providence narra tives published during the mid to late 1700s and discussed in the preceding chapter. When accounts of persons executed for murder be came commonplace, for example, stories of prisoners sentenced to die for other crimes— such as counterfeiting, theft and sedition— were published, embellished with descriptions of secret meetings or at tempted evasions of government officials.^9 Or narratives were circulated of condemned prisoners who, it would appear, were wrongly accused of murder or had accidentally mur dered. A True Relation of the Murder Commited by David Wallis (1713), for example, was captioned "The Sad Effects of Sin"— though the mur der by Wallis of his friend seems more the consequence of a drunken argument than the "Profane Oaths" or "vile Unchastities" specifically mentioned in his confession or the "Disregard unto Parental Instruc tions," the "Ungoverned passion , Inordinate passion," or the "Swear ing and Cursincf listed by Mather in his sermon prior to Wallis's execution.^® John Harrington, executed in 1757, declared he had "no Intention of murdering Paul Learned, the young Man whom [he] stab'd"; before his hanging in 1788, Elisha Thomas insisted: "I had no enmity against Capt. Drowne, nor do I know how it happened . . . ; nor could I have harboured a thought of killing my intimate friend, companion, and benefactor."51 Joseph Lightly, a deserter from British loyalist troops in 1765, was put to death that same year for the murder of one Elizabeth Post, a woman with whom he had had a liaison. His pre-execution statement has more of self-justification than confession in it: After I had intirely left the Army, I went up and down through the Country, on Order to get acquainted with the Roads, for my Intention was to Rob, or do any other Sort of Mischief I could lay my Hands to, for Support. . . . Soon after this, I found the Woman who was said to be my Wife, though she never was. At my first seeing her, I made Suit to her, not with any Intention of marrying her. I told her many pretty Stories . . . In our coming down through the Country, She behave in a most adulterous Manner, which caused me to be more gross with my Tongue, and use here with bad Language. In my Absence she would be always telling People I us'd her ill, in spending her Money; this enrag'd me more, and caus'd the People to give me a worse Name than I deserved. In travelling through the Country, this Woman died of Sickness, and unhappily I must suffer for her death.52 Despite Lightly's obviously having been a reprobate, one is inclined to believe him— on the basis of his candor, if nothing else— not guilty of murdering Post. And one can in part empathize with the rather bitter "forgiveness" he hazards: But as I now die, I freely forgive all the Witnesses who swore against me; four of the Men, who perjur'd themselves, and are the only Means of my Blood being innocently Shed, I heartily forgive, and pray God to forgive them likewise; and as to the Woman who was my reputed Wife, she died with a Lie in her Mouth, but I freely forgive her, and those who swore to her false Declarations.53 Perhaps the best of the "unjustly condemned" histories is The Narrative of Whiting Sweeting (1797). Sweeting was falsely accused of having stolen a large iron kettle, the plaintiff having obtained a warrant for his arrest. Gathering some friends about him, the plain tiff prepared to serve the warrant, the group stopping at a bar be forehand. By the time they arrived at Sweeting's house, the group had been transformed from an arrest party into a drunken mob. Sweeting, warned only minutes before of their coming and not knowing their pur- 90 pose, armed himself with a knife and tried to escape out the back entrance to his house. Tracking him in the snow, the arrest party soon caught up with him. A scuffle ensued, a man— one of Sweeting's associates, ironically— was accidentally stabbed, perhaps having fal len on Sweeting's knife, and Sweeting was arrested for murder. Sweeting's narrative consists of a careful report of his trial, an analysis of his feelings after sentence was passed upon him, an "application" of his writings (centering on the necessity of humility and repentance), letters to various family members (parents, sib lings, wife, even his in-laws), and an account of the events sur rounding the "murder" of Darius Quimby. An important forerunner of criminal fiction, Sweeting's narrative is a gracefully written, ob- . jective, and relatively thorough analysis of a crime, an analysis that teases with questions of guilt and innocence without answering them. Finally, it provides in its forty-odd pages a rather superb characterization of Sweeting himself, a humble yet— ironically— mor ally strong and thoroughly likeable man, a man largely the victim of circumstance who rises above his having been victimized. "I desire your attention," he tells the jury before his conviction, "that God would inspire you to do me justice." Those giving evidence, he says, are prejudiced, and do not know the truth, or have not de livered the whole truth. — There is ONE who knows the truth, and before whom I and they must appear. — If you take my life it will be unjustly taken, as I had no intention of mur der, and can't consider myself guilty of murder. If I have not justice here, I shall have it hereafter. "And if I die," he concludes, "I hope to die a good man."^ In addition to accounts of "falsely accused," whose confessions _seem-desiqned to win human sympathy rather than divine approbation, 91 are a series of narratives whose apparent intent is to elicit excite ment, to appeal to contemporary curiosity. These are the pirate nar ratives, first appearing in the late 1600s and stimulating a public interest that lasted well over a century. As is perhaps apparent from pirate testimony previously quoted, pirate narratives and confessions tended to follow the patterns of other criminal literature: sometimes condemned pirates were repentant and their confessions sincere; cer tain others may have been falsely accused; still others remained cocky, true to pirate codes and honor. Pirate accounts themselves are perhaps not as significant as the public and relgious sentiments which they stirred. They spawned countless sermons and tracts, most of which adopted Cotton Mather's lamenting and suspicious tone: My poor Young man [Mather said of one reformed pirate] does Lament the Temptations, & the Wretchednesses of the Sea- Faring Life exceedinly. He ran to Sea Ten years ago, when he was about fourteen Years of Age, without and against the mind of his Father, yet he has found the 111 Effects of so leaving him. The Sea, that ever that Element should be so poisoning, so polluting! Truly, Our Seafaring Tribe, do call for a most extraordinary Concern and Pity from us!55 At an execution of six pirates in Boston in 1704, an unnamed minister prayed ("as near as it could be taken in Writing in the great Croud"): "Oh! but shall our Sea-faring Tribe on this Occasion, be in a Sin gular manner affected with the Warnings of God! Lord, May those our dear Brethren, be Saved from the Temptations which so threaten them! so ruine them!"56 Bejamin Colman preached in 1726: YOURS, our Seafaring friends, is the danger of turning robbers and murderers; and so of a life of horror and terror here, and of wailing and anguish for ever; because of those vices and lusts that reign among and over the men of the Sea; Namely, profaneness, cursing and bitterness, swearing and blasphemy, 92 drunkenness and revellings, contempt of religion and profana tion of the Lord's Day, whoredom and uncleanness. . . . And so while you sail on the waters, (beholding the wonders of God in the deep, but never thinking of him, always defying and blas pheming him) you drown your Souls in destruction and perdi tion; turning robbers and murderers till neither the Land or Waters can bear you any longer.5^ Not everyone who followed the sea, however, was believed evil; and even the most degenerate of pirates was not beyond forgiveness. "I know," said Colman, "that there are virtuous & worthy Persons that follow the Sea, as good as those that stay ashore; and that there are as bad ashore as any that are on the Sea." His desire, therefore, is that "the wicked might be no more on either Element; and that the number of pious and religious people may increase greatly on the Sea and on the dry Land; for both are God’ s."58 Mather, in an open mes sage to all sailors, especially those who might be tempted to forget God, affirms. - . . . We Love you, We Value you, we Rejoice in you, we Pray for you, we wish you well, our Souls are Travailing for your Welfare. We long to see your Vessels a sort of Little Churches for the Worship of God practised in them, and for the Abhorrence & Avoidance of every Wicked thing aboard. We Long, we Long, to have it said of our Mariners, the Men fear the Lord exceedingly. 5^ As the eighteenth century progressed, pirates were simultane ously romanticized and humanized in the public consciousness, so that by the 1790s a broadside occasioned by a pirate's execution was more likely to "cry over" his repentance than despise his wickedness. "As the ever-curious PUBLIC may wish to be informed," observes one such broadside, "of the State of Mind in which the . . . unhappy Prisoners were in during the preceding Days of their Execution," it may not be improper to mention here, that they expressed much grief and sincere Repentance, lamenting that in their — former Days they had been very neglectful of their religious Duties, and had spent their Time previous to the Commission of [their] horrid Crime, in forgetfulness of GOD, and slight ing the kind Admonitions of Friends that had often been given them. . . . They likewise acknowledge the Humanity and Justice of the Laws of this Country, and the humane and kind treat ment they have met with ever since their Confinement, from every Person concerned with them, and from the many kind and charitable Citizens who have visited and comforted them, for which they sincerely hope they may receive a heavenly Re ward.60 The Last Dying Words And Dying Confession Of The Three Pirates, Who Were Executed This Day, (May 9th, 1800) assures its audience that "the crimes of these young men were the greatest that can be commit ted in civil society— and highly aggravated by many attrocious [sic] circumstances." Again, however, the focus is on repentance and human ity rather than crime. The pamphlet is largely comprised of "last letters" written by the pirates to family members; its tone that of a sentimental novel, affirming man's innate goodness and the correct ness of society. "How much reason had these persons to rejoice," ef fuses the anonymous compiler of their writings, "that they were brought to a city, where the consolations of the gospel were held out to them, by pious divines," that they "were not snatched into eter nity, from their wicked courses, in a moment, without time or oppor- C 1 tunity to reflect on, and repent, of their mis[s]pent li[ves]." Surely such writings were the basis for nineteenth-century satires of pirates, especially those who were repentant, such as the King's prayer-meeting confession in Huckleberry Finn. In contrast to the humanizing of pirates but in harmony with an eighteenth-century interest in the unusual or the extreme were exe cution narratives of condemned murderers— not of men falsely ac- g - 4 - cused, but of persons who confessed to their crimes. These became increasingly sensationalistic and graphic as the century unfolded; one questions whether those written late in the period were factual accounts, as they purported to be, or crude novelettes. A few Lines on Occasion of the untimely End of Mark and Phillis (1755), a relatively early and apparently true account of this type, tells in a broadside ballad of two slaves who were executed for "poy- soning their Master," which "kill'd him by Degrees." Apparently in tending to destroy other family members after their master's death ("Their Cursed and their Hellish Plot, / . . . [was] To kill the Root, and slay the Branch: / But God did that prevent"), Mark and Phillis are held up as a warning to all "Servants black and white": Let Servants all in their own Place, Their Masters serve with Fear, Lest God should leave them to themselves As these poor Creatures were.6^ Henry Halbert was executed in 1765 for murdering a young boy. According to his Last Speech and Confession, Halbert was an immigrant from Germany who, at the age of fifteen or so, was bound out to a Philadelphia wigmaker. Despite "[my master's] Tenderness to me," Hal bert writes, "I gave myself to all Manner of Vice, such as Drinking, Whoring, Cursing, Swearing, breaking the Sabbath, and keeping . . . debaushed [sic] Company." Eventually, Halbert says, "I got acquainted with a Woman, named Mary Lynes, and she saying she was with Child by me, I was obliged to marry her." Some time later and without his knowledge, his wife stole a pocketbook from his former mistress. The theft was laid to Halbert's charge, a conviction which came just as he had gained freedom from his bondservant status and which forced 95 him to bind himself out another four years "to get clear of Prison." The injustice was more than he could bear. He states flatly. Then I did not care what become of me, knowing I was wronged in that. . . . [B]eing deprived of my Liberty and my old Com panions forsaking me, I began to be tired of my Life and I was determined to kill some body. . . . And one Night was going to put it in Execution, for the Devil tempted me ... to get up and kill Mr. Bartholomews Son, that was at my Masters House, but going to the Bed-side with a Knife in my Hand, and seeing the Boy smile in his sleep, I could not find in my wicked Heart to kill him. . . . But the next Morning I got up, and got one of my Masters Horses, and riding along the Road, I met with the Boy I killed [Jacob Woolman's son].63 Halbert and this second boy were on their way to the same mill, the boy arriving soon after he did. Recognizing that "we were both in the Mill alone," says Halbert, "the Devil or my own wicked Inclinations tempted me that it was then my Time to execute my former Design." He describes what followed in these words: I took hold of the innocent Boys Chin, and put my other Hand in my pocket and opened my Knife, which I could not do before without both Hands, with that I gave him one cut, at which the Boy said, 0 Henry! don't kill me; my Answer was, I must kill you, with that I gave him two more Cuts, and then he got away from me, and walked about 5 Yards and fell down dead, and I being almost cover'd with his Blood, went in that Con dition to the Neighbours and delivered myself up.64 Perhaps attempting to justify the publication of the pamphlet, its compliler appends a letter from Halbert to the dead boy's father in which Halbert begs forgiveness: I am now confined in the Dungeon in Irons, for the barbarous and willfull Murder I have committed on your Son, . . . and every Hour since I am praying for Almighty God to pardon my . . . Wickedness; For being guilty of innocent Blood. Now I most humbly pray you and your Wife will forgive me as it lies so heavy on my Conscience, and send me Word as soon as possible! As I am certain I shall die the easier.66 But this scarcely offsets what has preceded: the success of the pam phlet almost certainly derived from its horror, not its moral value. 96 An Authentic Particular Account Of The Life Of Francis Burdett Personel (1773) is among the most memorable execution accounts. Like Halbert's pamphlet, Personal's writings are poised between sensation alism and sentimentality, his rather rousing and titillating biogra phy followed by a contrite and lengthy discourse on sin. Yet Per sonal's blunt candor, detailed and intriguing storyline, and polished style provide his account with somewhat greater aesthetic merit. The crux of his narrative is his relationship with his wife, a prostitute: After I came to New-York, I took a wife: and notwithstanding I knew she had followed a loose way of life, I loved her. But then the next morning after I had been married and wedded to her, I consented to her going to her old habitation, till she could pay some debts which she said she owed, and for which otherwise I would be sued, but she could pay them very soon: She was not long there before I took her away, as I could not bear to think of her following that course any longer.66 Unfortunately, writes Personal, "I had not been married long before I was taken so ill, as to be unable to work"; seeing no alternative, he and his wife "concluded unanimously, that we must either perish, or she take to her old course: accordingly, she prostituted her body as usual." The effect of this was, predictably, that Personal soon be came jealous. One night, after going to the house from which his wife conducted her business, Personal became embroiled in an argument with the two men consorting with her, during the course of which one of the men was killed. Personal was eventually found guilty of murder. "Herein God is glorified," declares Personal, for putting a stop to the sinful course that my wife and I followed, . . . by directing apprehending and executing of me; for though I did not intend to kill Mr. White, when I struck him; yet, as it proved the cause of his death, I confess I am guilty of the murder of him, inasmuch as I had given my wife the liberty before-mentioned. . . . [I]t yields me comfort and consolation to die: when I think what God has done for me, 97 even in my last hours. Oh! how happy should I have been, if I had known so much of God in time past, as I do now.67 As a final sentimental touch, the editor of the pamphlet adds this postscript to Personal's writings: "The prisoner, towards the close of his life, appeared very cheerful and resigned to the will of God," answering with a smile "that he was ready" when "told by the officers, that they came to wait upon him." And at the gallows, says the editor, Personal "gave an exhortation with much composure, and re signed himself to the King of Terrors."68 There are other overtly sensational accounts, such as The Last Words and dying Speech of Thomas Goss (ca. 1778) and the historical sketch appended to God Admonishing his People of their Duty (1786), a sermon occasioned by the execution of Hannah Ocuish. The former is a confusing, somewhat incoherent story of a man condemned for murdering his wife, apparently suspecting her of adultery; the account suggests that Goss may also have been implicated in the death several years earlier of a hunting companion. The "twist" to this account— in con nection with the murder of his wife— is similar to the "twist" fea tured later in Brockden Brown's Wieland. Goss insisted that he was acting in accordance with divine will, declaring: "I was surrounded with holy angels when I laid violent hands on [her]." The editor's footnote to Goss's account states, somewhat apologetically, Much might be said with respect to the conduct of this unhappy man. His behaviour while in prison has been strikingly singu lar. Previous to his trial he appeared very irrational. After his condemnation was very composed for a considerable time.— Requested advice and prayers; and regularly attended divine service.— But for about three weeks has behaved like a poor deluded wretch.— Abuses the clergy, and defies the powers of earth and hell to hang him— Calling himself the brother to JESUS CHRIST, &c. &C.6* 98 The appendix to God admonishing his People is a disturbing ac count of the murder of a six-year-old by a twelve-year-old, both girls. It is little wonder to a sensitive reader that Hannah Ocuish, the older girl, abandoned by her Indian mother and her anonymous white father, acquired a reputation within her community for conduct "marked with almost every thing bad" and for a "maliciousness of dis position." The tone of the narrative, however, is indignant and impa tient, contrasting the "stupidity and unconcern" of Hannah with the "benevolent tenderness" of the judge who passed sentence of death upon her, a tenderness "which almost prevented [his] utterance," to the end that "the spectators could not refrain from tears" and the "prisoner alone appeared scarcely to attend." The "particulars of the horrid crime" are given in these words: The criminal . . . called to her [Eunice Bolles]: offering her a piece of calicoe which she then held in her hand. The child coming to her, she struck her on the head with a stone which she had taken up for the purpose, and repeating the blows the child cried out, "Oh, if you keep beating me so I shall die." She continued the blows until the child lay still. But after a few moments, seeing that she stirred; she took her by the throat and choaked her 'till she was dead. . . . Upon being asked why she killed her: she said that she had intended giving her a whipping because she had complained of her in strawberry time (about five weeks before) for taking away her strawberries.70 Adds the author, "Such an instance of deliberate revenge and cruelty 71 in one so young, has scarcely a parallel in any civilized country." Not everyone, however, seems to have shared the author's lack of com passion for the criminal: following her trial, she was visited by "some persons" who "encouraged her with telling her that she would not be hung [ sic]." Though the minister who preached her execution sermon expressed horror at "the natural productions of a heart uncultivated 99 and left to Itself," he placed part of the blame for this and similar tragedies on parents or masters who failed to provide for the secular and moral education of their children and servants.72 Perhaps the most sensationalistic of all eighteenth-century exe cution narratives is A Brief Narrative Of The Life And Confession Of Barnett Davenport (1780). Its brief preface declares: THE following account, is one of the most shocking. A brief narrative of the life of one, who, before he was twenty years of age, could deliberately murder a family, for the sake of plundering the house, it is apprehended, may be of some serv ice to mankind. When they consider the fearful end of one, brought up in profaneness, neglect of public worship, without pious instruction or learning, profaning GOD'S sabbaths, and blaspheming his name; which the wretched malefactor repre sents as having been very much his case. . . . Some moral re flections are interspersed.73 The promised "moral reflections" are squeezed into the final para graph of Davenport's account and into a brief editor's postscript. The extent of Davenport's moralizing is this: "0 that others may take warning by my dreadful example and fearful end! and avoid those sins which I have committed." He continues, almost proudly, "A series of wickednesses have led me on to the most awful crimes that ever were perpetrated in this land, or perhaps any other; and for which I must (most justly) suffer a violent death, and I greatly fear, everlasting burning, horror and despair."74 The editor's philosophizing is even less pertinent: "May the sordid life, the unheard of crimes, and fearful end, of this poor, wretched malefactor, be a warning to parents and children: That par ents may be more careful to instruct and teach their children." And because Davenport happened to be a deserter from the colonial forces, the editor takes occasion to add: "As he is also to be considered in 100 the character of a deserter from the army, having been repeatedly guilty of that dreadful sin, may others take warning, and not dare to do so wickedly, lest they incur the vengeance of Heaven, and their injured Country."75 Here the pamphlet ends. Between the brief and honeyed apologies for the pamphlet is the narrative itself, centered around Davenport's murder of the Caleb Mallery family of Litchfield, Connecticut. Two months after having been taken on by the elderly Mallery as a hired hand, Davenport "determined on the murder of [him] and his family, the first opportunity . . . for the sake of plundering the house." Waiting until a night when the adult children were away and only the old couple and their grandchildren at home, Davenport car ried out his plans: I went into the room where Mr. Mallery, his wife and on grand child lay asleep. First I smote him with my might once or twice on his head [with a swingle]; upon this Mrs. Mallery awaking attempted to rise up; I turned and struck her one or two blows. Mr. Mallery then sprung up; I struck immediately at him . . . , belabouring him with the club— He asked me who I was? . . . and said, tell me what you do it for? Then called to his wife to come and help him repeatedly. . . . Mrs. Mal lery made no answer, only shrieks, cries, and doleful lamen tations. Having for some time smote Mr. Mallery and pounded him, the swingle split. Upon this, I catched a gun which stood behind the door, and with this instrument of death, proceeded still to smite him: I then turned again, and did the same to Mrs. Mallery, and continued striking till she lay still as well as he.75 Davenport then turned to the child and "continued laying on," feeling "some small relentings, without remitting in the least, [his] execrable exertions," the child giving "a few terrible shrieks, which (one would think) were enough to pierce the hardest heart." By now, according to Davenport, the room was 101 besmeared with blood, and filled with horrendous groans: I went into the other room, lighted the candle, and presently returned to this room, in which expiring groan answered to groan. Nor was Pharaoh's heart harder than mine. For amidst these dying groans and streaming blood, I looked for the key to open the chest where the money lay; but could not find it. Then I went, got a pestle and broke open the chest. By this time both Mr. Mallery and his wife begun to struggle 1 mashed his head all to pieces with this instrument: And she rising partly up in the bed, I smote her also with the pestle on her head several times, and she tumbled behind the bed. Before this I saw her face swoln to twice its common bigness, disfigured with wounds, and covered with gore and streaming blood. ^ Davenport then set fire to the house, apparently burning the two re maining children alive, and attempted to make his escape. He was ap prehended, convicted of the crime, and subsequently executed, dying with no hope of forgiveness and, judging by his text, desiring none. The editor of Davenport's account states in the preface that it was "penned from the Criminal's mouth," admitting, however, that the transcription was "not always exactly in his own words." One imag ines not. The account seems a fictionalized version of an actual hap pening: the descriptions lack verisimilitude, concerned more with moving or shocking the reader than with avoiding improbabilities or, on occasion, a certain dark ludicrousness. This account, like Hal bert's and many other providence narratives of the late 1700s, seems written to sell, only faint traces of a moral framework remaining. By the time of the Revolutionary War, executions were no longer public examples but public spectacles— and crowded, unruly ones at that. Ministers cautioned their audiences on the "sorrowful occa sions" of executions to behave "with all decency and moderation," to "avoid every thing that is rude and disorderly" and "retire home in proper season." Declared one minister: 102 It is not a day for rioting and vain merriment. Such an oc casion as this calls much rather for fasting, humiliation and prayer.— Let me intreat old and young to stand off from every thing rude and vain: To let your behaviour be with sobriety and good order, and in due season, to retire to your respec tive homes.79 Ministers were not the only persons to be concerned about the effect of public executions. Punitive law reform became an important social issue during the American enlightenment; the advisability of conduct ing executions and other public punishments quickly became a central question of such debates. The most articulate spokesman for those opposed to public executions was Benjamin Rush, who, like the "other Benjamin" of the Revolutionary era, was a Renaissance man of the first caliber. In An Enquiry into the Effects of Public Punishments upon Criminals, and upon Society (1787), Rush argues that "all public punishments tend to make bad men worse, and to encrease [sic] crimes, by their influence upon society."80 Rush points to the following to show that public punishment is useless as a mode of reforming the criminal: 1st, As it is always connected with infamy, it destroys in him the sense of shame, which is one of the strongest out posts of virtue. 2dly, It is generally of such short duration, as to produce none of those changes in body or mind, which are absolutely necessary to reform obstinate habits of vice. 3dly, Experience proves, that public punishments have en- creased propensities to crimes. A man who has lost his char acter at a whipping post, has nothing valuable left to lose in society.81 Rush also believes that "public punishments, so far from preventing crimes by the terror they excite in the minds of spectators, are di rectly calculated to improve them"— primarily because all persons, when suffering, "discover either fortitude, insensibility, or dis 103 tress," with accompanying influences on those who witness their suf ferings. If the prisoner shows fortitude, as did Major Andre— whose last words, apparently, were "I call upon you to bear witness, gentlemen, that I die like a brave man"— the "spy," argues Rush, "is lost in the hero; and indignation, every where, gives way to admiration and praise." On the other hand, should prisoners "discover insensibility under their punishments, the effect of it must be still more fatal on society," declares Rush, because "it removes, instead of exciting, terror." Or, if the prisoner shows distress, the effects, "though less obvious, are not less injurious to society": By an immutable law of our nature, distress of all kinds, when seen, produces sympathy, and a disposition to relieve it. This sympathy in generous minds, is not lessened by the distress being the offspring of crimes; on the contrary, even the crimes themselves are often palliated by the reflection, that they were the unfortunate consequences of extreme poverty— of seducing company— or of the want of a virtuous education, from the loss or negligence of parents in early life.®^ Other emotions likely to be aroused in spectators viewing an execu tion or other public punishment include indignation, contempt, and confusion; Rush dismisses these as being equally dangerous with the first three. Then he argues: "Public punishments make many crimes known to persons, who would otherwise have passed through life in a total ignorance of them"; that they furthermore cultivate such a familiarity in the minds of spectators, with the crimes for which they are inflicted, that, in some instances, they have been known to excite a propensity to them. It has been remarked, that a certain immorality has always kept pace with public admonitions in the churches in the eastern states. In proportion as this branch of ecclesiastical disci pline has declined, fewer children have been born out of wed lock. 104 Finally, Rush insists that although "ignominy is universally acknowledged to be a worse punishment than death," this does not mean that it "operates more than the fear of death in preventing crimes." Instead, it "confounds and levels all crimes," and by increasing the "proportion between crimes and punishments, it creates a hatred of all law and government, and thus disposes to the perpetration of every crime." Rush concludes this portion of his argument with a con sideration of the history of public punishments in Europe: What has been the operation of the seventy thousand execu tions, that have taken place in Great-Britain from the year 1688, to the present day, upon the morals and manners of the inhabitants of that island? Has not every prison door that has been opened, to conduct criminals to public shame and punish ment, unlocked, at the same time, the bars of moral obligation upon the minds of ten times that number of people? How often do we find pockets picked under a gallows, and highway-rob- beries committed within sight of a gibbet? From whence arose the conspiracies, assassinations and poisonings, which pre vailed in the decline of the Roman empire? Were they not fa voured by the public executions of the amphitheatre? It is therefore to the combined operation of indolence, prejudice, ignorance— and the defect of culture of the human heart, alone, that we are able to ascribe the continuance of public punishments, after such long and multiplied experience of their inefficacy to reform bad men, or to prevent the com mission of crimes.84 Rush's proposal is not to do away with punishments altogether, but to remove them from society's view. In fact, his proposal constitutes the rudiments of what would become the nation's first reformatories and state penitentiaries. The important point here, however, is that Rush was able to articulate concerns which grew out of the increased humanity of the late Revolutionary period, expressing them so effec tively that he was instrumental in bringing an end to an era. Public executions gradually disappeared along the East coast, transferred to the frontier in the form of gunfights and white/Indian skirmishes. 105 According to colonial law, the practice of witchcraft was a cap ital crime through the early eighteenth century. Technically speak ing, then, accounts of witchcraft and narratives of witch trials were a specialized form of criminal writings, often a strange hybrid of confession and judgment. As a rule, confession and reason governed actions taken against persons accused of witchcrafts, thereby honor ing the Mathers' injunctions against 1) using "wicked Charms for the curing of Mischiefs," and so "opposing Witchcraft it self with Witch craft'; 2) "wrongfully accus[ing] an other person, of this horrid and monstrous evil," which often resulted in "persons of more Goodness and Esteem than any of their calumnious Abusers . . . be[ing] defamed for Witched'; 3} relying on any testimony save a "free and Voluntary Confession of the Crime made by the Person Suspected and accused" or a statement of "two credible Persons [who] shall affirm upon Oath that they have seen the [accused] Party" doing those things of which he is accused.85 Thus, Thomas Hutchinson could write in 1750 that more persons had been executed for witchcraft "in a single county in England, in a short space of time, than have suffered in all New Eng land from the first settlement until the present time."86 For a brief and terrifying period during 1692, however, the weight of legal and ministerial judgment in Salem crushed the princi ples of reason and voluntary confession, condemning accused individ uals almost before they went to trial, extracting admissions of guilt where none in fact existed, inflicting banishment or death in an al 106 most paranoiac adherence to judicial and religious tradition and to the incorrectly interpreted dogma of such contemporary figures as the Mathers. The purpose of this discussion is not to trace the history of the Salem witch trials, much less the history of witchcraft in early America. Both areas have been well researched®^; to hash over the same materials here would be pointless. Instead, a brief survey will be made of contemporary "witchcraft accounts," accompanied by the suggestion that the development of these writings— along with that of other providence and confession literature— provides a generally re liable measure of the increasing vitality of American rationalism. Perhaps the central difficulty faced by a modern reader of witchcraft papers is in being able to take seriously such writers as the Mathers, Deodat Lawson, and others who argued strongly for the reality of persons who, through blood pacts with Satan, had been given power to work great evil in the society, evil that all but the best of humanity was powerless to stop. One feels that these men— rational, in the modern sense of the term, in so many other areas— should have seen through the events at Salem. But what one must un derstand is that the Mathers' approach to witchcraft was indeed ra tional. Instead of analyzing the possibility of witchcraft as modern rationalism would, however, the Mathers and other intellectuals were concerned with the proper detection of witchcraft and, following its detection, its complete destruction. That witchcraft existed went without saying: the Bible declared it did; the great body of European secular and religious writings declared the same. So long as a thing 107 was in accordance with revealed truths, in other words, the question a thinking individual asked was not "Is this real?" but "How does this fit into an eternal framework? Is it good or evil? Does it tes tify of God or against him?" The "wonders invisible" were as vital and significant as those external, and sometimes moreso. The battle between the Puritans and the forces of Satan, for example, was fought almost exclusively in the uncharted territory of the soul, a micro cosm of the invisible world. Accounts of supernatural events, though emanating from a divine rather than a satanic source, were the forerunners of American witch craft materials. In New-Englands Memoriall, for example, Nathaniel Morton includes the following account for the year 1637: This Year there was a hideous Monster born at Boston in New- England, of one Mrs. Mary Dyer, a Co-partner with the said Mrs. Hutchinson, in the aforesaid Heresies; the said Monster (as it was related to me) It was without Head, but Horns like a Beast, Scales or a rough skin like the fish called the Thornback, it had Leggs and Claws like a Fowl, and in other respects as a Woman Childe: the Lord declaring his detesta tion of their Monstrous errors (as was then thought by some) by this prodigious Birth.®® Such "prodigious" accounts are not formalized; that is, they have no clearly definable structure or purpose. They are very brief; as with witchcraft accounts, there is usually a stated "moral" or a "reason" provided for their occurrence, though there probably will be no effort to carefully define the causal link between the narrative and the principle it supposedly illustrates. Like the later witchcraft narra tives, their focus is on the unusual, the paradoxical— that which apparently contradicts the workings of nature. They emphasize the same scriptural concept, that the laws of the unseen world, whether 108 divine or demonic, supersede those of the natural: God's power far exceeds Satan's, but the power of either is infinitely greater than man's. Both Mathers, father and son, shared in a current theological opinion that wickedness and sin were forms of "madness" or "posses sion," or that wickedness led to possession and devil-dealing. The father speaks, for example, of a "prophane Student" who, having "quickly consumed [his means] upon his lusts," placed himself in the position of making a contract with Satan; the son insists that it is "a Mad Life, that Ungodly men use to Lead" and that "a Sad Death is that which the Incureable Madness of ungodly men brings them at length unto." The younger Mather, in describing "One Potter, by Name . . . Executed for Damnable Bestialities" (to whom previous reference was made in this chapter), declares that an "Unclean Devil . . . had the possession of [him]." And the sermon he delivered in 1689 "on the Occasion of a horrible Self-murder committed by a possessed woman in the Neighbourhood" is entitled, A Discourse on the Power and Malice of the DEVILS.^ What the Mathers and others accepted, then, was that wickedness and witchcraft were one and the same in their deliv ering up the self to the will of the Devil and their wreaking de struction in the lives of others, especially the righteous. Choosing to include examples of witchcraft narratives in his Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences (1684), Increase Mather was the first American to imbue them with both credibility and purpose. In relation to narratives of witchcraft, his Essay is sig nificant for two reasons: 1) it is the first colonial compilation of 109 witchcraft accounts, especially accounts that include any kind of careful detail, and 2) it contains a lengthy and, considering its time of publication, unusually rational analysis of the truths as well as the mythologies of witchcraft (it is here, for example, that Mather first decries careless trials, the use of witchcraft to dis cover witchcraft, and the popularity of various tales concerning shapeshifters, incubi, succubae, and so forth). If it is true that the Devil cannot "bring forth a perfect animal,'' says Mather, "how then is it consistent with reason, that he should produce a real Man, who is of all Animals the most perfect, and noble?"90 Mather goes on to say that "it is also extreamly Fabulous, that Witches can transform themselves or others into another sort of Crea ture." But his history of Ann Cole— which he transcribes as it was reported to him, probably by the Reverend John Whiting— includes the following passage: She [a Mistress Greensmith, accused by Ann Cole of witchcraft] . . . declared, that the Devil first appeared to her in the form of a Deer or Fawn, skipping about her, wherewith she was not much affrighted, and that by degrees he became very fa miliar, and at last would talk with her. Moreover, she said that the Devil had frequently the carnal knowledge of her Body.9 * Obviously Mather has an answer to the apparent incongruity, or he would not have included the history in the first place. It is simple: "I deny not," he says, "but that the Devil may so impose upon the imagination of Witches as to make them believe that they are trans muted into Beasts."99 The point is this: Mather saw difficulties with accounts of witchcraft, but rather than discarding the narratives themselves, which— he believed— testified indirectly of God through 110 affirming Satan's efforts to destroy God's people, he attempted to find logical, rational explanations for such difficulties. If Increase Mather's Essay has a weakness, it is that he relies too much on secondhand reports of events and occurrences. This oc casionally prevents his providing as complete an account of a given situation as he otherwise might have done, leading— as noted in the previous chapter— to instances of vagueness and incongruity. One of his witchcraft narratives, for example, tells of a young boy living with his grandparents who is suddenly possessed of a "Daemon." All three persons feel themselves pricked by needles; they are injured by objects flung around the house by invisible hands; one cold winter morning they are even "attacked" by cow manure: On the 28 of the mentioned Moneth [January 1680], frozen clods of Cow-dung were divers times thrown at the man out of the house in which they were; his Wife went to milk the Cow, and received a blow on her head, and sitting down at her Milking-work had Cow-dung divers times thrown into her Pail, the Man tried to save the Milk, by holding a Piggin side- wayes under the Cowes belly, but the Dung would in for all, and the Milk was only made fit for Hogs.99 Eventually, things came to such a pass that the boy "roared terribly, and did eat Ashes, Sticks, Rug-Yarn": The Morning following, there was such a racket with the Boy, that the Man and his Wife took him to bed to them. A Bed-staff was thereupon thrown at them, and a Chamber pot with its Con tents was thrown upon them, and they were severly pinched. The Man being about to rise, his Clothes were divers times pulled from them, himself thrust out of his Bed, and his Pillow thrown after him. The Lad also would have his clothes plucked off from him in these Winter Nights, and was wofully dogg'd with such fruits of Devilish spite, till it pleased God to shorten the Chain of the wicked Daemon.94 The "shortening of the chain" was occasioned through a sailor, a friend of the old man. It is this portion of Mather's account which, Ill considering both the length of the account and the apparent hopeless ness of the boy's case, seems altogether too brief and simplistic. Too, one wonders about the specific nature of the sailor's "cure": [A] Seaman (being a Mate of a Ship) coming often to visit (the old Man], told him that they wronged his Wife who sus pected her to be guilty of Witchcraft; and that the Boy (his Grandchild) was the cause of this trouble; and that if he would let him have the Boy one day, he would warrant him his house should be no more troubled as it had been; to which motion he consented. The Mate came the next day betimes, and the Boy was with him until night; after which his house he saith was not for some time molested with evil Spirits. Reading between the lines, one imagines that the boy literally was playing one hell of a prank on the old couple, and that the sailor persuaded him, by legitimate means or otherwise, to mend his ways. Mather, however, presents the case at face value, assuming by the reports he has received that the boy was indeed possessed and that the sailor, through the grace and providence of God, effected a cure. Though Cotton Mather was apparently no more careful than his fa ther in research and analysis, he was much more empirical in his ap proach, perhaps reflecting the increased significance scientific re search held for his generation. Where the father was content to pub lish and analyze the reports of others, the son was not satisfied until he had seen an actual case of possession firsthand, studied it, taken careful notes, and published his findings to the world. The re sult of his "experiment" was, of course, Memorable Providences, Re lating to Witchcrafts and Possessions, which focused on the case of a thirteen-year-old girl who lived in his home for several weeks, the daughter of John Goodwin. She, along with her siblings, were the sup posed victims of the incantations of one Goodwife Glover, "an ignor- 112 ant and a scandalous old Woman" who was eventually executed for witch craft. The reason he "took [Goowin's daughter] home to [his] House," says Mather, was that I might show [this afflicted Family] what kindness I could, as also that I might have a full opportunity to ob serve the extraordinary Circumstances of the Children, and that I might be furnished with Evidence and Argument as a Critical Eye-Witness to confute the Saducism of this de bauched Age.96 Mather accordingly made a number of "Tryals" of the devils possessing the girl, recording his findings honestly, if not always— by modern standards, at least— objectively. Among his experiments were some designed to measure the devils' understanding of foreign languages, of thoughts, of gestures and intentions. Others examined the devils' "tastes," pinpointing which books they tolerated and which they loathed. Still others considered the length and nature of the girl's "fits" or trances, which, together with those of her siblings, were comprised of "so many sorts of Ails, that it would require of us al most as much time to Relate them all, as it did of them to Endure them." His experiments even considered the effect of certain relig ious ordinances, such as prayer: "As a further Demonstration of Witchcraft in these horrid Effects," he writes, "when I went to Prayer by one of them, that was very desireous [sic] to hear what I said, the Child utterly lost her Hearing till our Prayer was over."97 Subsequent writers have had a lot of fun with Mather's trials of giving the possessed girl various books to read. "It would kill her," he says, "to look into any Book, that (in my Opinion) it might have bin profitable & edifying for her to be reading of." By trial and error, he found that she could read a jest-book "without any Disturb- 113 ance" and that "a popish Book also she could endure very well," but that she was "handled with intolerable Torments," when other books, such as the Bible or publications of his father or grandfather, were read to her. He does not neglect to mention that she "could quietly read whole pages" of "a Quakers Book." Nor does he fail to record one occurrence which surprised him: the girl was able to read "a cer tain Prayer-Book' despite the fact that it contained verbatim several passages of scripture which, if read aloud from the Bible itself, threw the girl into agonies. "I should not have been a faithful and honest Historian," Mather insists, if I had withheld from the World this part of my History: But I make no Reflections on it. Those inconsiderable men that are provoked at it (if any shall be of so little Sense as to be provoked) must be angry at the Devils, and not at me-, their Malice, and not my Writing, deserves the Blame of any Aspersion which a true History, may seem to cast on a Book that some have enough manifested their Concernment for.98 In connection with "Whether the Devils know our Thoughts, or no?' Mather says that he "will not give the Reader [his] Opinion of it, but only [his] Experiment' : That they do not, was conjectured from this: We could cheat them when we spoke one thing, and mean't another. This was found when the Children Were to be undressed. The Devils would still in wayes beyond the Force of any Imposture, won derfully twist the part that was to be undress't, so that there was no coming at it. But, if we said, untye his neck cloth, and the parties bidden, at the same time, understood our intent to be, unty his Shooe! The Neckcloth, and not the shooe, has been made strangely inaccessible. But on the other side, That they do, may be conjectured from This. I called the young Woman at my House by her Name, intending to mention unto her some Religious Expedient, whereby she might, as I thought, much relieve her self; presently her Neck was broke, and I continued watching my Opportunity to say what I de signed. I could not get her to come out of her Fit, until I then she revived immediately. what I thought, and 114 Admitting that he made other experiments which— "because [he] would not offend"— -he will not include in his manuscript, he never theless offers no apologies for the final form of the discourse, be lieving it to be thorough in its proofs that witches do indeed exist: "I have Writ as plainly as becomes an Historian, as truly as becomes a Christian, tho perhaps not so profitably as became a Divine." The whole of his library, he says, "never afforded me any Commentary on those Paragraphs of the Gospels, which speak of Demoniacs, equal to that which the passions of this Child have given me." He has found the experience so convincing of the powers of evil that he vows "never to use . . . one grain of patience with any man that shall go to impose upon me, a Denial of Devils, or of Witches."100 Mather supplements his own experiences with other much briefer accounts. One of these tells of "Mr. Philip Smith, aged about Fifty years, a Son of eminently vertuous Parents, a Deacon of the Church at Hadley" who, in 1684, had been "murdered with an hideous Witchcraft" Apparently because he had offended a "wretched woman in the Town," he began suffering general physical complaints; he was soon bedridden for pains like "sharp Pins, pricking of him," eventually dying of them. His death was on the Sabbath, and that evening, "his Counte nance was yet as fresh as before; but on Monday Morning, they found the Face extremely tumified and discoloured; 'twas black and blue, & fresh blood seem'd to run down his Cheek in the Hairs."101 Another account concerned a "Mr. St— nof North-hampton” who made the mistake of offending the husband of a witch, subsequently "languish[ing], de- cay[ing], and d[ying]." Upon his death, the examiners "went to the 115 Traditional Experiment of Bottling Urine," but found "they could get no Urine from him" because a "strange Hole . . . quite thro his Yard" was "shedding the water before they could receive it into the Ves- sel."10^ For Mather, of course, these accounts serve as little more than decorative pieces. In his report of Goodwin's children, he has al ready said all he truly wanted or needed to say in his book. Further more, the most critical happenings of the situation "were before many Critical Observers; and the Whole happened in the Metropolis of Eng lish America," the "thing [being] yet fresh and New." Most crucially, perhaps, was the fact that Mather himself was "an Eye-witness to a large part" of what he told.103 Memorable Providences was almost immediately popular, bringing Mather much notoriety and not a little satisfaction. His next foray into witches' territory was not nearly so fortu nate. He had begun compiling notes for a second book on the subject shortly after Memorable Providences was published. Then reports be gan coming from Salem. Mather, seeing the potential for acquiring from the trials great quantities of evidence documenting his posi tions, determined to build his book around the Salem witches. There were two problems with this endeavour. First, Mather himself seems to have had little to do with the affairs in the community eighteen miles to the northeast, relying on transcripts of the court trials and visits to Salem by his father and friends for most of his infor mation. Thus, his accounts lack the veracity, the objectivity and — most crucially— the graceful coherence of his earlier book. 116 The second problem was, as Silverman points out, that by the time Wonders of the Invisible World finally appeared in October, 1692, "popular and ministerial clamor against the trials was bringing them to a halt." And so Mather's cry for combatants against the "Army of Devils . . . horribly broke in upon the place which is the Center, and after a sort, the First born of our English Settlements" served only to fan the flames of public outrage and terror.104 Publishing this book seems to have had more influence on Mather's contemporary repu tation than any other thing he ever did, an influence undimmed by succeeding generations. Because of structural and argumentative de fects, and because of the circumstances of its initial appearance, the book has hidden and continues to cloak Mather's sensitivity, hu mor, and genius.105 Robert Calef, on the other hand, was a man who wrote a book which took the right viewpoint on witchcraft at the right time. His More Wonders of the Invisible World (London, 1700) was not openly printed in America for nearly another century. Still, it seems to have found an audience on both sides of the Atlantic within a rela tively short time of its publication; Mather himself procured a copy 0 as soon as it came off the British press. Quoted loudly by Mather's foes, it turned public opinion even more strongly against him. Calef's book is nothing like a masterpiece. It is rather poorly structured; it is more a compilation of papers against Mather than it is a history of the Salem experience. Even as an indictment of Mather the book is suspect, relying as it does on mean-spiritedness and ex 117 aggeration. Calef decries the occurrences in Salem as nothing more than the fruits of "the accusations of a parcel of possessed, dis tracted or lying wenches," and belittles such elements of the Salem trials as the description of a mare supposedly bewitched by Elizabeth How, recorded by Mather in these words: [0]ne using a pipe of tobacco for the cure of the beast, a blue flame issued out of her, took hold of her hair, and not only spread and burnt on her, but it also flew upwards to wards the roof of the barn, and had like to set the barn on fire. And the mare died very suddenly.106 In his disparaging commentary, Calef says he cannot understand how "any judge or jury" could be influenced by the oversetting of carts, or the death of cattle; nor yet excrescences (called teats) nor little bits of rags tied to gether (called poppets;) much less any person's illness, or having their clothes rent, has been well hanged; "much less," he concludes with a sneer, "the burning of the mare's 1 0 7 fart, mentioned in [Mather's account of] the trial of How."iU1 Perhaps a single and rather unfairly stated paragraph from Ca- lef's postscript to his book has come to typify Mather's role in the Salem crisis. "Mr. Cotton Mather was the most active and forward of any minister in the country in those matters," Calef declares, "tak ing home one of the children, and managing such intrigues with that child, and printing such an account of the whole ... as conduced much to the kindling of those flames, that in sir Williams time threatened the destruction of the country."108 This is not especially good writing; it is even less valuable history. But it persists. If there is value in Calef's book, and it seems there is, it is in his blunt and straightforward manner, his perceiving a problem and fiercely condemning it, his providing the first true example of 118 American brashness. And, beyond that, Calef is skillful in synthe sizing public fears and complaints, in crystallizing public opinion against a situation or a man— or, in this case, against both. The declaration with which Calef concludes his book contains little of original thought; some of his points, in fact, are restatements of the Mathers' own injunctions. Yet it is expressed with a degree of grace and passion that, even now, gives it life: As long as Christians do esteem the law of God to be imperfect, as not describing that crime that it requires to be punished by death: As long as men suffer themselves to be poisoned in their education, and be grounded in a false belief by the books of the heathen: As long as the devil shall be believed to have a natural power to act above and against the course of nature. As long as the witches shall be believed to have a power to commission him: As long as the devil’ s testimony, by the pretended af flicted, shall be received as more valid to condemn, than their plea of not guilty to acquit: As long as the accused shall be forced to undergo hard ships and torments for their not confessing: As long as teats for the devil to suck are searched for upon the bodies of the accused, as a token of guilt: As long as the Lord’ s prayer shall be profaned, by being made a test, who are culpable: As long as witchcraft, sorcery, familiar spirits, and necromancy, shall be improved to discover who are witches, &c. So long it may be expected that innocents will suffer as witches: So long God will be daily dishonoured, and so long his judgments must be expected to be continued.109 There were, of course, those who took publishing advantage of Salem and the resulting concern with witchcraft. One of these was Benjamin Harris, who published Mather's Wonders. In late April of 1692, Harris issued Deodat Lawson's Brief and True Narrative Of some 119 Remarkable Passages Relating to sundry Persons Afflicted by Witch craft, At Salem's Village. Loftily addressing the reader in a pub lisher's preface, Harris seems chiefly interested in stirring up con troversy and business, promising much more than the book delivers: The Bookseller to the Reader, The Ensuing Narrative being a Collection of some Remarkables, in an Affair new upon the Stage, made by a Credible Eyewit ness, is now offered unto the Reader [for] a Tast, of more that may follow in Gods Time. If the Prayers of Good People may obtain this Favour of God, That the Misterious Assaults from Hell now made upon so many of our Friends may be thor oughly Detected and Defeated, we suppose the Curious will be Entertained with as rare an History as perhaps an Age has had; [of which this] Narrative is but a Forefunner. - 1 -10 Lawson's account has a certain historical value in pinpointing dates, names, and occurrences associated with the Salem trials, but its ex ceptional disjointedness and relative brevity suggest that it was quickly composed and published while the issue was still vital. Another example of an opportunistic treatment of witchcraft is Lithobolia; Or, The Stone-Throwing Devil (London, 1698), purporting to be the account of "an Ocular Witness" of certain "Diabolick Inven tions" occuring "at a place call'd Great Island in the Province of New-Hantshire." Because it does not agree with other published ac counts of New England witchcraft, Lithobolia is likely the work of a fiction writer taking advantage of British interest in the American witch hysteria. It records the "throwing about (by an Invisible hand) Stones, Bricks, and Brick-bats of all Sizes, with several other things [such] as Hammers, Mauls, Iron-Crows, Spits, and other Domes- tick Utensils, as came into [the] Hellish Minds [of the Infernal Spirits], and this for the space of a Quarter of a Year." The master 120 and mistress of a certain house eventually growing tired of the stone- throwing, they "tried this Experiment": [T]hey did set on the Fire a Pot with Urin, and crooked Pins in it, with design to have it boil, and by that means to give Punishment to the Witch, or Wizard, (that might be the wicked Procurer or Contriver of this Stone Affliction) and take off their own. . . . This was the Effect of it: As the Liquor be gun to grow hot, a Stone came and broke the top or mouth of it, and threw it down, and spilt what was in it; which being made good again, another Stone, as the Pot grew hot again, broke the handle off; and being recruited and fill'd the third time, was then with a third Stone quite broke to pieces and split; and so the Operation became frustrate and fruit less.111 Even more straightforward essays on the wrongs committed in Salem were likely the result of economic motivations rather than pre tensions of scholarship, especially when the success of Calef's book became evident. John Hale's A Modest Enquiry Into the Nature of Witchcraft (1702), for example, makes a show of being a serious study: it abounds in scriptural references; it analyzes reasons why "it ap peals] there was a going too far" in Salem, pointing to the fact that, in a comparatively short period, "about an hundred” persons were implicated and that it can hardly "be imagined that in a place of so much knowledge, so many in so small a compass of Land should so abominably leap into the Devils lap at once."112 But it also contains much that is sensational and potentially inflammatory. Saying that he knows of cases in England where persons were falsely "executed for Capital crimes," Hale quotes the following account: A man going to correct a Girle his Niece, for some offence, in an upper room, the Girle strove to save her self, till her nose bled, and wiping it with a cloath, threw the bloody cloath out at the window, and cryed Murder; and then ran down staires, got away and hid her self. Her Uncle was prosecuted 121 by her friends upon suspicion of Murdering her, because she could not be found. . . . Upon these presumptions the man was found guilty of Murdering his Niece, and thereupon executed. And after his execution his true Niece comes abroad & shews her self alive and well. Then all that saw it were convinced of the Uncles innocency, and vanity of such presumptions,113 A colonial audience would not have failed to see the moral of this anecdote or to be affected by it; in using this and other spurious histories to support arguments central to his case, Hale shows him self to have been at least partially motivated by personal interests. As mentioned earlier, the trials in New England helped renew interest in witchcraft in Britain, where Francis Hutchinson published his Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft in 1720. Hutchinson, a skeptic, has little patience with any reports of witchcraft, but is especially dismayed with what transpired in Salem. He also accords Cotton Mather little credibility. With regard to Memorable Provi dences, he implies that it testifies more clearly of Mather's megal omania than of the existence of witches: First, it is manifest that Mr. Mather is magnify'd as having great Power over the evil Spirits. A young Man in his Family is represented so holy, that the Place of his Devotions was a certain Cure of the young Virgin's Fits. Then his Grandfa ther's and Father's Books have gained a Testimony, that, upon occasion, may be improved, one knows not how far.114 To show what extents a supposedly bewitched person may go in con sciously duping others, Hutchinson gives the case of "William Perry: Or, The Boy of Bilson," who accused an old woman of bewitching him and who subsequently had fits, apparently coughed up pins and knit ting needles, and was insensible to pain. Eventually, his urine be came black, and physicians and a bishop were called in to attend him. The boy was caught in his lie when the bishop, suspecting something 122 amiss, watched through the keyhole as the boy, believing everyone to be out of the house, [took] out an Inkhorn, and [made] Water in the Chamber-Pot, through a piece of the Cotton in his Hand, and another little piece he put into his Praeputium, covering it with the Skin, which was for a reserve, if he should be forced to make Water before Company.115 The boy blamed his deceit on a certain old man who had told him he would never need to attend school again; for, said the old man, "I can teach thee such Tricks, that the People that see thee shall believe that thou art bewitched, and so shall lament and pity thee."115 Non-fictional writings on witchcraft continued to appear through the eighteenth century, though by the early 1800s witchcraft and the 1692 trials were no longer social concerns, having been relegated to the status of folklore or American myth. Still, the topic occasion ally surfaced in a serious essay, such as A Debate Proposed in the Temple Patrick Society . . . Whether Witches, Wizards, Magicians, Sor cerers, Sic. Had Supernatural Powers (1788). Arguing that, as "the Bible speaks of witches . . . there must be witches," but "how weak does [their] power appear, when we consider that the hairs on our heads are numbered, and that heaven superintends and directs all ac tions and events,"117 the essay is an optimistic, perhaps even nos talgic look at witchcraft, the horror and anxiety of the 1690s having been, over the course of nearly a century, dissolved by rationalism. The one remaining component of this genre, the judgment narra tive written in personal defense or justification, can be covered quickly. The defense/justification narrative asserts the self against 123 society, and hence— despite its British roots— is intensely American. It is properly considered with other judgment writings because it clearly involves the judging of self; in its pitting the self against another or against society at large, a second judging process is im plied as well. Justification/defense narratives have their colonial roots in defenses of the land; the land for the colonists— not just the Puri tans— almost immediately became an extension of the self, so that negative reports of a given plantation reflected adversely on the goals, interests, and even the integrity of its settlers. Thomas Har riot, for example, one of the members of Sir Walter Raleigh's expe dition to Virginia in the mid-1580s, condemned the "divers and vari able reportes with some slaunderous and shamefull speeches bruited abroade by many that returned from thence," declaring that their "re portes" have "done a litle wrong to many that otherwise would have also favoured & adventured in the action, to the honour and benefite of our nation." Harriot then spends nearly fifty pages discussing his experiences in the New World, telling what he had seen and done, and assuring the adventuresome and courageous their hopes will not be disappointed in Virginia, "referring [his] relation to [the] favour able constructions [of the reader], expecting good successes of the action." 1 Seemingly determined to convey a love for the land despite per sonal hardships, Thomas Dudley wrote in a letter to the Countess of Lincoln in 1630 that, "for the use of such as shall hereafter intend to increase our Plantation in New England," 124 [I] thought it fit to commit to memory our present condition, and what hath befallen us since our Arrival here; which I will do shortly, after my usual manner, and must do rudely, having yet no Table, nor other Room to Write in, then by the Fire side upon my knee, in this sharp Winter; to which my Family must have leave to resort, though they break good manners, and make me many times forget what I would say, and what I would not.119 As late as 1732, at a meeting of the Trustees for Establishing the Colony of Georgia, the supreme invitation to individualists was being issued: "We are now sending forth into a distant and uncultivated Country a Number of Persons, that seem in a literal Sense to begin the World again," promising "Wealth, Reputation and Power" and society with "a People distinguish'd both by the wisdome of their constitu tion, and Equity in Administration." Daniel Denton writes a similarly glowing report of New York in 1670, declaring he has "writ nothing, but what I have been an eyewitness to," and insisting that "the place it self should exceed my Commendation" for those "that shall travel thither."120 Some, like John Hammond, had a personal interest in what was becoming their permanently adopted land. Hammond was obliged to es cape Maryland about 1650 when a false warrant was issued for his ar rest because of his efforts in supporting then-Governor William Stone against the efforts of William Clayborn and Richard Bennett to unseat him and annex Maryland to Virginia. Issuing a tract in defense of his actions, Hammond versus Heamans [Roger Heamans being a supporter of Clayborn and Bennett] (1655) apparently was not enough to guaran tee a safe passage back to Maryland. Thus, he issued a year later Leah and Rachel, Or the Two Fruitfull Sisters Virginia, and Mary-land, a wholly positive description of both plantations advertising for new 125 settlers. At the conclusion of the pamphlet, in an open letter ad dressed to the Governour and Counsell in Virginia, he wrote: "As I have done your Country of Virginia justice in standing up in its de fence, so I expect and entreat the like from you." The plea and the unsolicited advertisement apparently worked: Hammond eventually re turned to Maryland, settled there, and began a family whose descen- dents, the American Historical Register tells us, "took an active part in precipitating the Revolution."121 Much could be written about the judgment/defense narrative in the context of early American religion. And much of what would be written would be repetitive. Whether it was Nathaniel Morton condemn ing the deviltries of the Quakers, or Cristopher Holder and John Rous responding to Morton's "lyes and slanders," referring to him as a "[f]alse prophet" and a "Dragon"; whether it was Thomas Budd defend ing the liberalist views held by him, George Keith, and others against the criticisms of more conservative Quakers, or Joseph Bolles champ ioning as "faithful Martyrs of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ" in 1758 four conservative Quakers who had been killed in Boston 107 years previously, most narratives of judgment/defense having religious themes sound very similar.122 That is, they sound similar until one reads some of the better defense essays of Cotton Mather who, as he did for other judgment/ confession forms, gave them intelligent structure. Perhaps the best of his .defense essays appears as the Appendix of Memorable Provi dences. It is generally directed to the Quakers, but specifically to George Keith, who, during the late 1680s, had written a series of 126 pamphlets occasioned by Increase Mather's remarks in Illustrious Providences regarding the Quakers. Keith, a charismatic leader but not gifted as a writer, was nevertheless successful in raising the ire of the Puritan ministerial community with his blunt, heavyhanded criticisms of Mather. What Cotton Mather found intolerable was that Keith chose to condemn his father while the senior Mather was on ap pointment in England and unable to properly defend himself or his reputation. And so the son intervened to defend his father and the family name. This is the way Mather constructs his rebuttal: he begins sar castically, predicting that the Quaker community will be offended by his report in Memorable Providences of "the strange liberty which the Devils gave unto John Goodwills Children, to enjoy both the Writings and the Meetings of the Quakers." Undoubtedly, he says, "the match less Candour and Sweetness of the Quakers will inspire them with In clinations to give me some of their public Thanks for the notice I have taken of them." Next, he finds fault with Keith's methods, attempting in the process to show him— by Quaker standards— a hypocrite: [T]he Title-page of his Discourses (for truly, Reader, he will not now give us a Silent Meeting) promises to us, An Answer to the gross Abuses, Lyes and Slanders of Increase Mather; which he afterwards detects, just as one of his Predecessours after a Conversation with Hogsheads, Trampled upon Platds pride; while he cannot instance in any one Abuse, Lye or Slander of Increase Mather, without committing more than a few him self.123 Then, becoming somewhat more serious, he answers the complaints of Keith toward his father, taking each in turn. Following this, he counters Keith's complaints with grievances of his own: "I may rather 127 charge this G.K. with Gross Abuses, Lyes and Slanders, by him offer'd unto that Increase Mather whom he shows himself so much (beyond the cure of Hellebore) inflamed at." Finally, he suggests that rabid criticism of minister by minister, of one church by another, might very well destroy all religion in the American colonies, implying that the very measures Keith proposes to use against the Puritans could be deflected back upon the Quakers and Keith himself. Mather concludes in these words, neatly juggling humor, anger, and satire: I do also entreat the Reader, that he would not mis-interpret my approaches (if I have made any) towards Levity in my treat ing of the Adversary standing at my Fathers right hand to resist him; Tis almost impossible to look upon the Generality of Quakers, without applying to them the Humour which a gen tleman long since thought proper for the creatures contrived on purpose to be made merry with. I shall only add, That George Keith has given sufficient cause why his own Sect should be ashamed of him, if Shame were compatible to such a perfect People. But as he thinks my Father wants The true eye opened in him, so I suppose he will tell me, That I am in the dark, and therefore it is time for me to bid him now. Good night124 In addition to his artistry as a researcher and scholar, in ad dition to his providing American essays with workable forms. Cotton Mather had in rich abundance the will that Lionel Trilling describes as the "element of character which we mobilize to meet the demands of necessity," the will which Trilling considers an integral component of art.125 Mather's power among his contemporaries was almost cer tainly a product of his will; and today, whatever power is still evi dent in the best of his writings unquestionably derives from the same source. Despite his incredible will, it is to Mather's credit that he demonstrated grace and sensitive maturity even in self-defense— 128 tempering his artistic, spiritual, and personal will with humor (as when he addressed George Keith) or with silence (as when faced with Robert Calef's personal attacks), admitting to profound bitterness, anger, or despair only in the private pages of his diary.126 Mather theorized in Bonifacius that; A Life Spent in Industrious Essayes to Do Good, will be your Powerful, and Perpetual Vindication. T'wil give you such a well-established interest in the Minds where Conscience is advised withal, that a few Squibbing, Silly, impotent Alla- trations, will never be able to Extinguish it. If they go to Ridicule you in their Printed Excursions, your Name will be so Oyl’ d, no Ink will Stick upon it.127 To this point, Mather's prognostications as they apply to himself or to retrospective assessments of his life have not quite held true. But perhaps history will yet find him in "perpetual vindication." As popular eighteenth-century thought tended more and more towards rationalism, the early passion for the land— for individual ownership and control, for the inherent promise of success— was sub sumed in more careful and controlled writing. Not that American primitivism didn't occasionally flare up in such documents as the delightful and unquestionably American "Rockhill/Hoff Broadsides," a private squabble over petty damages and insults (beginning with a stolen load of wood) made public through an angry, noisy, and occa sionally witty exchange of broadsides.128 For the most part, how ever, narratives of personal justification grew less defensive and more concerned with revealing the mind and character of the author, the energetic, structured but cumbersome essays of Mather preparing a genre and an audience for the more graceful religious essays of John 129 Murray,129 the social essays of Franklin, the medical papers of Ben jamin Rush, or the political documents of Paine, Jefferson, and Ham ilton. Though judgment/confession narratives did indeed represent a dark side of early American moral writing, their end approached light. Narratives of divine judgment, which often focused on natural disasters and their accompanying terrors, broadened compassion and stretched scientific curiosity. Confession narratives eventually led towards late eighteenth-century prison reform and a reassessment of criminal law. And narratives of personal justification became the basis for the American personal essay, the assertion of self from within the contexts of society. Taken together, these writings repre sented primary growing pains of the colonies, some of them incredibly agonizing. But they also formed contexts for promises of a richer and better life that helped propel a new nation into the nineteenth cen tury and a modern world. T3CT Notes 1. For William Bradford's views on the divine relationship with the Plymouth colony, see his Of Plymouth Plantation, ed. Harvey Wish (New York: G.P. Putnam's, 1979), p. 204; the references to John Cotton are to his published sermon, Gods Promise to His Plantation . . . (London: William Jones, 1630), pp. 7, 17—20. 2. Bradford, pp. 197—198. 3. Bradford, p. 198. On pp. 203—204, Bradford supplements this list with the following: "[F]irst, ... it is ever to be remembred that where the Lord begins to sow good seed, ther the envious man will endeavore to sow tares. 2. Men being to come over into a wilder- nes, in which much labour & servise was to be done . . . were glad to take such as they could; and so many untoward servants . . . when their times were expired, became the families of them selves, which gave increase hereunto. 3. . . . [M]en, finding so many godly disposed persons willing to come into these parts, some begane to make a trade of it, . . . and then, to make up their fraight and advance their pro- fite, cared not who the persons were, so they had money to pay them. And by this means the cuntrie became pestered with many unworthy per sons, who, being come over, crept into one place or other. 4. Again, the Lords blesing usually following his people, as well in outward as spirituall things ... so allso ther were sente by their freinds some under hope that they would be made better; others that they might be eased of such burthens, and they kept from shame at home that would necessarily follow their dissolute courses. . . . [Bradford ends with the phrase quoted on p. 63 in the text and referenced in note four below.] 4. Bradford, p. 204. 5. Both quotations regarding Virginia are from John Hammond, Leah and Rachel, Or, the Two Fruitfull Sisters Virginia, and Mary land: Their Present Condition, Impartially stated and related. . . . (London: T. Mabb, 1656), p. 3. 6. The quotation from John Smith is from his Advertisements For the unexperienced Planters of New-England, or any where . . . (London: John Haviland, 1631), p. 33; the latter quotation is from Hammond, p. 4. See also Smith, pp. 32—34. 1. Anonymous, The Present State of the Country and Inhabitants, Europeans and Indians, of Louisiana . . . By an Officer at New Orleans to his Friend at Paris. . . . Translated from the French Originals . . . by the Hon Capt. Aylmer . . . (London: Printed for J. Millan, 1744), p. 12. T3T 8. See Thomas Morton, New English Canaan or New Canaan. Contain ing an Abstract of New England . . . (Amsterdam: Jacob F. Stam, 1637), especially his discussions included in "The third Booke" on pp. 137— 188. 9. See, for example, William Bradford, pp. 202—203, for the ac count of "a youth whose name was Thomas Granger" who was executed for bestiality; Cotton Mather, Pillars of Salt. An History of some Crimi nals Executed in this Land, for Capital Crimes. With some of their Dying Speeches; Collected and Published, for the Warning of such as Live in destructive Courses of Ungodliness. . . . (Boston: B. Green and J. Allen, 1699), pp. 63—66, for the history of "one Potter by Name, about Sixty years of Age," another executed for bestiality; Robert Young, The Dying Criminal (New London: n.p., [1779]) [broad side] and The Last Words and Dying Speech of Robert Young (New Lon don: n.p., [1779]) [broadside], one executed for raping an eleven- year-old girl. For an account of the murder of one child by another, see Henry Channing, God Admonishing his People of their Duty, as Par ents and Masters. A Sermon . . . Occasioned by the Execution of Hannah Ocuish . . . (New London: T. Green, 1786). 10. Mitchell Robert Breitwieser, Cotton Mather and Benjamin Frank lin: The Price of Representative Personality (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), pp. 4, 28. 11. Mather, Pillars of Salt, pp. 43, 25. 12. See Kenneth Silverman, The Life and Times of Cotton Mather (New York: Harper & Row, 1984), p. 28; see pp. 28—31. 13. Mather, Pillars of Salt, p. 42. 14. The best analysis of the importance of Peter Ramus to Puritan thought remains that in Perry Miller's and Thomas Johnson's The Puri tans (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), pp. 28—41; Cotton Mather's per sonal debt to Ramus is indisputable. 15. An example of Mather's salvos against Keith include his ap pendix to Memorable Providences, Relating to Witchcrafts and Posses sions. A Faithful Account of many Wonderful and Surprising Things, that have befallen several Be-witched and Possessed Persons in New- England. . . . (Boston: R.P.; sold by Joseph Brunning, 1689), pp. [43]—[57]; the best analysis of the controversy between Mather and Calef is in Breitwieser, pp. 77—81. 16. Anonymous, A true and Particular Narrative of the late Tre mendous Tornado, or Hurricane, At Philadelphia and New-York, on Sab bath-Day, July 1, 1792 . . . (Boston: E. Russell, [1792]) [broadside]. Another disaster account which may be termed a judgment rather than a providence narrative is Ezra Witter, Gratitude and Obedience to the Preserver of Men, [for] a Signal Deliveranceand Warning . . . Occa T3Y sioned by the Death of Six Young Persons who were Drowned . . , {Springfield: T. Ashley, 1799), Appendix [pp. 10—11]. 17. Witter, pp. 4, 9. 18. Thomas Foxcroft, The Earthquake, a Divine Visitation. . , . (Boston: S. Kneeland, 1756), p. 42. 19. See Sandra M. Peterson, "The View from the Gallows: The Crim inal Confession in American Literature," Ph.D. diss., Northwestern University, 1972, p. 8. Peterson refers to "some two hundred pieces" written between 1675 and 1775; at least a dozen references exist in books and pamphlets published before 1675, and between fifty and sixty (depending on the actual dates of a number of undated publications) documents appeared between 1775 and 1800. Though Peterson's listing is not entirely clear, one assumes she is not including notices or arti cles from newspapers or periodicals. 20. The source of this argument is Lacey B. Smith, "English Trea son Trials and Confessions in the Sixteenth Century," Journal of the History of Ideas, XV (October, 1954), 471—498; reported in Peterson, 2-3. 21. Bradford, p. 155. 22. Bradford, pp. 189—190. The event is retold by Nathaniel Mor ton in his New-Englands Memoriall . . . (Cambridge: S[amuel] G[reen], 1699), p. Ill; reference was made to Morton's account in Chapter 1. 23. Bradford, pp. 202—203. 24. Cotton Mather, Warnings from the Dead. Or Solemn Admonitions Unto All People; but Especially unto Young Persons to Beware Of such Evils as would bring them to the Death. . . . (Boston: Bartholomew Green, 1693), p. 44. 25. See Cotton Mather, Pillars of Salt, pp. 63—66. 26. See Cotton Mather, Pillars of Salt, pp. 69—71; the longer quotation is from p. 71. 27. Young, The Last Words and Dying Speech. 28. Young, The Dying Criminal, stanzas 9—11. 29. The quotations regarding the purposes of publishing the ser mons is from Increase Mather, The Wicked Mans Portion (Boston, 1675); the latter quotation, which in context is addressed as a final re quest to the condemned man, is from Cotton Mather, The Call of the Gospel Applyed (Boston, 1686). Both quotations are cited more exten sively in Peterson, p. 10. r 3 3 - 30. The first quotation is from Cotton Mather, Death made Easie <5 Happy . . , (London: Printed for Thomas Parkhurst, 1701), p. 1. The phrase "prudently apprehended" comes from Mather's complete title for the above work. The second quotation is also from Mather, Serious Thoughts for Dying Times . . . , bound with the work cited above, p. 94. 31. J[ohn] J. Zubly, The Real Christian's Hope in Death; Or An Account of the edifying Behaviour of several Persons of Piety in their last Moments. . . . (Germantown: Christopher Sower, 1756), pp. 72-107; 107-111. 32. See Samuel Moodey, Judas the Traitor hung up in Chains . . . (New Haven: Printed for the Widow Sarah Diodate, 1761), pp. 5, 6. 33. Moodey, pp. 31, 32. 34. See Peterson, pp. 8—9. 35. Thomas Hellier, The Vain Prodigal Life, And Tragical Penitent Death Of Thomas Hellier . . . Who for Murdering his Master, Mistress, and a Maid, was Executed ... in the Country of Virginia, neer the Plantation called hard Labour . . . on Munday the 5th of August, 1678. . . . (London: Printed for Sam Crouch, 1680), pp. 12—13. The narrative itself begins on p. 5, from whence the title quoted earlier. Cotton Mather, in Pillars of Salt, tells of an earlier "ax mur der": he relates that in 1674, Nicholas Feavour and Robert Driver, "upon the Provocation of some Chastisement” of their master, "knock'd [him] on the Head, with an Axe, in their Bloody Rage" (see pp. 68-69). 36. See "A Prologue To The Following Tragical Relation," written by an anonymous compiler; in Hellier, p. 3. 37. See Hellier, pp. 34—38. 38. Hellier, p. 40. 39. See Peterson, pp. 2—4, 9—10, and following. 40. See Cotton Mather, Pillars of Salt, pp. 99—101. 41. Anonymous, The Declaration & Confession Of Matthew Cushing . . . who was Try'd for Burglary . . . ([Boston: n.p., 1734]) [broad side]. A broadside ballad by an anonymous author, A few Lines Upon the awful Execution of John Ormesby & Matth. Cushing . . . One for Murder, the other for Burglary ([Boston]: Boston Printing House, [1734]), suggests that Ormesby may have been mentally handicapped: Poor John Ormesby, confin'd in Jayl (For some mis-deed by him transacted) There in a rage murder'd one Bell, Some People think he was Distracted. T3¥ With a Quart Pot one blow he gave, For which he had small Provocation: The poor Man's Life they could not save; This the Effect of his vile Passion! 42. Anonymous, An Account of the Behaviour and last Dying Speeches Of the Six Pirates, that were Executed on .. . June 30th. 1704. . . . (Boston: Nicholas Boone, 1704) [broadside]. 43. Anonymous, An Account of the Behaviour. 44. Thomas Lutherland, Blood Will Out. Or, An Example Of Justice In The Tryal, Condemnation, Confession And Execution of Thomas Lu therland . . . (Philadelphia: William Bradford, 1692), pp. 15-19; the quotation is from pp. 15—16. 45. Anonymous, The Declaration & Confession of Matthew Cushing. 46. Cotton Mather, Warnings from the Dead, p. 72. 47. Moses Baldwin, The Ungodly Condemned in Judgment. A Sermon Preached ... On Occasion of the Execution of William Shaw, for Mur der. . . . (Boston: Kneeland & Adams, 1771), pp. 20—21. 48. Mather, for example, concludes his remarks references in note 46, for example, in these words: "However as far as they go, may the Lord God now Sanctify these Warnings . . . [for she is] still yet a Prisoner of Hope?' (See Cotton Mather, Warnings from the Dead, pp. 72, 75.) 49. See, for example, Herman Rosencrantz, The Life and Confession of Herman Rosencrantz . . . Executed . . . for Counterfeiting . . . (Philadelphia: Printed for James Chattin, [1770]); Thomas Hickey, The Last Speech and Dying Words of Thomas Hickey, . . . Who was executed . . . for joining in Sedition and Mutiny . . . [against] the United American Colonies . . . ([Newport]: n.p., 1776) [broadside]. Though some of the events reported by Rosencrantz are interesting, if not exciting, it should be noted that he himself is something of a bum bler. For the sake of comparison, see the anonymous broadside ballad, A few lines on Magnus Mode, Richard Hodges & J. Newington Clark. Who are Sentenc'd to stand one Hour in the Pillory at Charlestown; To have one of their Ears cut off, and to be Whipped 20 Stripes at the public Whipping-Post, for making and passing Counterfeit Dollars . . . ([Bos ton: n.p., 1767]). 50. Anonymous, The Sad Effects of Sin. A True Relation of the Murder Committed by David Wallis, On his Companion Benjamin Stolwood . . . (Boston: John Allen, 1713), see pp. i—v. The quotations from Wallis are on p. 10; those from Cotton Mather's sermon, The Curbed Sinner. A Discourse Upon the Gracious and wondrous Restraints Laid by the Providence of the Glorious God, On the Sinful Children of Men, to With[h]old them from Sinning against Him. . . . , are on pp. 46—50. 135 51. See John Harrington, The Last Words and Dying Speech Of John Harrington . . . Who was executed . . . for the Murder of Paul Learned ([Boston]: n.p., 1757) [broadside]; Elisha Thomas, The Last Words, And Dying Speech Of Elisha Thomas Who was Executed . . . for the Mur der of Captain Peter Drowne ([Dover: n.p., 1788]) [broadside], 52. Joseph Lightly, The Last Words and Dying Speech Of Joseph Lightly, Who was executed . . . For the Murder of Elizabeth Post . . . {[Boston: n.p., 1765]) [broadside]. 53. Lightly, broadside, penultimate paragraph. 54. Whiting Sweeting, The Narrative Of Whiting Sweeting, Who was executed at Albany . . . for the murder of Darius Quimby. . . . (Wind ham: Printed for James Huntington, 1797), p. 6. 55. Mather, The Sad Effects of Sin; in Anonymous, The Curbed Sin ner, p. 57. 56. Anonymous, An Account of the Behaviour and last Dying Speeches Of the Six Pirates, that were Executed . . . June 30th. 1704. . . . (Boston: Nicholas Boone, 1704) [broadside]. 57. Benjamin Colman, It is a fearful thing to fall into the Hands of the Living GOD. A Sermon Preached to some miserable Pirates . . . before their Execution. . . . (Boston: Printed for John Phillips and Thomas Hancock, 1726), p. 27. 58. Colman, pp. 27—28. 59. Mather, The Sad Effects of Sin; in Anonymous, The Curbed Sin ner, p. 58. 60. A. Solis [pseudonym, "a solace"?]. Dying Confession [Of three] Pirates . . . who were [Executed] . . . for the Murder of Mr. Enoch Wood. . . . ([Boston: n.p., 1794]) [broadside]. 61. Anonymous, The Last Dying Words And Dying Confession Of The Three Pirates, Who Were Executed This Day, (May 9th, 1800.) [Phila delphia: Folwell's Press, [1800]), pp. 7—8. 62. Anonymous, A few Lines On Occasion of the untimely End of Mark and Phillis, Who were Executed . . . for Poysoning their Master, Capt. John Codman . . . ([Boston: n.p., 1755]) [broadside]. 63. Henry Halbert, Last Speech and Confession, Of Henry Halbert, who was executed . . . for the inhuman Murder of the Son of Jacob Woolman . . . (Philadelphia: Anthony Armbruster, [1765]). 64. Halbert, pp. 6-7. 136 65. Halbert, p. 8. 66. Francis Burdett Personal, An Authentic Particular Account Of The Life Of Francis Burdett Personal . . . Who was executed at New- York . . . for the Murder of Mr. Robert White (New-Haven, n.p. [1773]), p. 8. 67. Personal, pp. 11, 14. 68. Personal, p. 23. 69. Thomas Goss, The Last Words and dying Speech of Thomas Goss, In a private Conference, previous to his Execution {[Boston?: n.p., 1778?) [broadside]. 70. See Henry Channing, God admonishing his People of their Duty, as Parents and Masters. A Sermon . . . Occasioned By the Execution Of Hannah Ocuish, a Mulatto Girl, Aged 12 Years and 9 Months. For the Murder Of Eunice Bolles, Aged 6 Years and 6 Months. . . . (New London: T. Green, 1786). The quotations regarding Hannah's character come from p. 29; her attitude during sentencing is on p. 30, as is the account of the murder. 71. Channing, p. 30. 72. Channing, p. 30; for references to Mr. Channing's sermon, see pp. 10—18, 25. 73. Barnett Davenport, A Brief Narrative Of The Life and Confes sion Of Barnett Davenport, Under Sentence of Death, for a Series of the most horrid Murders, ever perpetrated in this Country, or perhaps any other . . . ([Hartford?]: n.p., 1780), p. 3. 74. Davenport, p. 14. 75. Davenport, p. 15. 76. Davenport, pp. 10—11. 77. See Davenport, pp. 11—12, where the child's death is de scribed, and p. 12, where his final beating of the old couple occurs. 78. Davenport, p. 3. 79. See Thaddeus MacCarty, The most heinous Sinners capable of the saving Blessings of the Gospel. A Sermon ... on the Execution of William Linsey, for Burglary. . . . (Boston: Kneeland & Adams, 1770), p. 28; Baldwin, p. 24. 80. Benjamin Rush, An Enquiry into the Effects of Public Punish ments upon Criminals, and upon Society. Read in the Society for Pro moting Political Enquiries, Convened at the House of His Excellency 137 Benjamin Franklin, Esquire, in Philadelphia . . . {Philadelphia: Jos eph James, 1787), p. 4. Rush actually opposed capital punishment al together, as explained in his An Enquiry into the Consistency of the Punishment of Murder by Death, with Reason and Revelation, in Essays, Literary, Moral <S Philosophical (Philadelphia: Thomas & Samuel Brad ford, 1798), pp. 164 ff. Claiming that "the Punishment of Murder by Death, is contrary to reason," Rush lists reasons for his opposing it that are similar to his arguments against public punishments. 81. Rush, p. 4. 82. See Rush, p. 5, for the shorter quotations; the longer quo tation comes from p. 6. 83. Rush, p. 8. 84. Rush, pp. 9—10. 85. See Cotton Mather, A Discourse on Witchcraft, in Memorable Providences, Relating to Witchcrafts and Possessions . . . (Boston: R.P., 1689), pp. 25, 28; Increase Mather, Cases of Conscience Con cerning evil Spirits Personating Men, Witchcrafts, infallible Proofes of Guilt in such as are accused with that Crime. . . . (Boston: Ben jamin Harris, 1693), p. 59. 86. Thomas Hutchinson, History of the Province of Massachussetts Bay, vol. 2, p. 12, quoted in Chadwick Hansen, Witchcraft at Salem (New York: George Braziller, 1969), p. 12. 87. The reader is referred to Marion Starkey, The Devil in Massa chusetts [reprint of 1949 edition] (Alexandria: Time-Life Books, 1982); Sally S. Booth, The Witches of Early America (New York: Hast ings House, 1975); and Chadwick Hansen, Witchcraft at Salem, cited in note 87 above. Starkey's and Booth's treatments are sympathetic to the victims of the trials; Hansen's, on the other hand, takes the stance that witchcraft did, in fact, exist in early America— and that perhaps some actions taken by ministers and prosecutors were justi fied (as do the other two writers, Hansen also perceives much harm done by the witch trials, particularly those of Salem). An interest ing nineteenth-century account— more interesting for its highhanded morality than for its historicity, however— is John Greenleaf Whit tier, The Supernaturalism of New England [reprint of1847 edition] (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1969). Regarding Mather and the witchcraft issue, see Breitwieser, Cotton Mather and Benjamin Franklin and Silverman, The Life and Times of Cotton Mather, pre viously cited. 88. Nathaniel Morton, New-Englands Memoriall . . . (Cambridge: S[amuel] G[reen], 1669), p. 108. Earlier in this chapter, a "monster account" Cotton Mather gave as fact was cited; surely, if one accepts such narratives as truths witchcraft does not seem so unbelievable. 138 89. Increase Mather, An Essay for the Recording of Illustrious Providences . . . (Boston: Samuel Green for Joseph Browning, 1684), p. 147. 90. See Chapter VI of Increase Mather, An Essay, "That there are Daemons. And Possessed Persons. Signs of such." The quotation is from this chapter, p. 177. 91. See Increase Mather, An Essay, pp. 138, 177; the documentation regarding the Reverend Whiting is from Hansen, p. 231. 92. Increase Mather, An Essay, pp. 177—178. 93. Increase Mather,. An Essay, p. 147. 94. Increase Mather, An Essay, p. 153. 95. Increase Mather, An Essay, pp. 154—155. 96. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, p. 18. 97. See Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 18—39; the qxio- tations are from pp. 4 and 5. 98. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 24—24. The long quotation is from p. 24. 99. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 38—39. 100. See Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 39, 41. 101. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 54—56. 102. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, pp. 60—61. 103. Cotton Mather, Memorable Providences, p. 39. 104. See Silverman, pp. 113—118; the quotation is from p. 114. The extract from Cotton Mather is from The Wonders of the Invisible World. Observations As well Historical as Theological, upon the Nature, the Number, and the Operations of the Devils. . . . (Boston: Benjamin Har ris, 1693), p. xiii. 105. For treatments relevant to the appearance of Wonders of the Invisible World, see Silverman, reference cited in note 105; and Breitwieser, pp. 77—82. 106. Cotton Mather,"The Trial of Elizabeth How," in The Wonders of the Invisible World; quoted in Robert Calef, More Wonders of the In visible World, Or The Wonders of the Invisible World Displayed. . . . (Salem: H.P. Ives & A.A. Smith, 1861; reprint of the 1700 London edi tion), p. 320. 139 107. Calef, p. 331. 108. Calef, p. 357. 109. Calef, pp. 368-370 110. Deodat Lawson, A Brief and True Narrative Of some Remarkable Passages Relating to sundry Persons Afflicted by Witchcraft, At Salem Village . . . (Boston: Benjamin Harris, 1692), p. 2. 111. R. C., Esq., Lithobolia; Or, The Stone-Throwing Devil. . . . (London: E. Whitlock, 1698), title page; the long quotation is from p. 14. 112. John Hale, A Modest Enquiry Into the Nature of Witchcraft . . . (Boston: B. Green & J. Allen, 1702), p. 38. 113. Hale, pp. 168—169. 114. Francis Hutchinson, An Historical Essay Concerning Witchcraft. With Observations Upon Matters of Fact . . . (London: Printed for R. Knaplock, 1720), p. 96. 115. Hutchinson, pp. 271—280; the quotation is from p. 278. 116. Hutchinson, p. 279. 117. The Temple Patrick Society, A Debate Proposed in the Temple Patrick Soceity, and Fully Discussed by the Members. Whether Witches, Wizards, Magicians, Sorcerers, &c. Had Supernatural Powers. . . . (Philadelphia: W. Young, 1788), pp. 21, 23. 118. Thomas Har[r]iot, A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia . . . (London: n.p., 1588), pp. 3, 48. 119. Thomas Dudley to The Lady Bridget Countes of Lincoln, Boston in New-England, March 12th. 1630. In Massachusetts Or the first Plan ters of New-England. . . . (Boston: B. Green & J. Allen, 1696), p. 9. 120. See John Burton, The Duty and Reward of propagating principles of Religion and Virtue ... A Sermon Preach'd before the Trustees for Establishing the Colony of Georgia in America. . . . (London: J. March, 1733); Daniel Denton, A Brief Description of New York . . . (London: Printed for John Hancock, 1670), p. iii. 121. See John Hammond, Hammond versus Heamans . . . (London: n.p., [1655]); John Hammond, Leah and Rachel, Or, the Two Fruitfull Sisters Virginia, and Mary-land . . . (London: T. Mabb, 1656), p. 29. See also the American Historical Register, Vol II, (May 1895), pp. 868—869; the quotation is from p. 869. 140 122. See Morton, New-Englands Memorials, Christopher Holder and John Rous, The Faith and Testimony of the Martyrs ([Providence?: n.p., ca. 1670]), quotations from title page; Thomas Budd, A Just Rebuke to Several Calumnies, Lyes, & Slanders . . . ([Philadelphia: Wm. Brad ford, 1692]); Joseph Bolles, The Spirit of the Martyrs Revived . . . {[New London: Timothy Green], 1758), p. 1. 123. Cotton Mather, "Appendix," Memorable Providences, pp. 3—4. 124. Cotton Mather,"Appendix," Memorable Providences, p. 14. 125. See Lionel Trilling, "Art, Will, and Necessity," in The Last Decade (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1979), pp. 129—147. The quotation is from p. 146. 126. The best treatment of Cotton Mather's dispute with Robert Calef is in Breitwieser, pp. 77—80. 127. Cotton Mather, Bonifacius: An Essay upon the Good . . . and to Do Good . . . (Boston: B. Green, 1710; reprinted Gainesville: Schol ars' Facsimiles & Reprints, 1967, ed. by Josephine K. Piercy), p. xiv. 128. See John Rockhill, The State of a Controvery between Charles Hoff, junior, and John Rockhill, two very near Neighbours, at Bethle hem, in the Jerseys . . . ; Charles Hoff, Jr., Nothing but the Love of Truth . . . ; and John Rockhill, Forasmuch as the judicious Readers of the Paper published by Charles Hoff, junior . . . ([All Philadelphia or Woodbridge, N.J.: n.p., 1755]) [all broadsides]. In a similar case (in 1764), one Thomas Forsey appealed to the public in an effort to recover damages from one Waddel Cunningham, who had assaulted Forsey over a year earlier, had been tried and subsequently ordered— upon being found guilty— to pay Forsey a set tlement of some £1500, and had then escaped to Europe. Daniel Hors- manden, the justice who recorded the court trials connected with the so-called "Negro Plot of 1741" (discussed in Chapter 3), used the Forsey/Cunningham case to argue against the question of "Whether a Court can, by the Crown, be legally constituted in this Colony [New York], to hear civil Cases, in a Way of Appeal, from a Common Law Court, according to the Course of the civil Law, upon the whole Mer its, and re-examine the Evidence given to a Jury, and reverse, or controul their Verdict.” Forsey's appeal to the public for justice, then, was used by Horsmanden— in a rather skillfully written and emo tional essay— to justify a liberal (if not a clearly anti-Tory) po litical position. 129. See, for example, John Murray, An Appeal to the Impartial Pub lic, In Behalf of The Oppressed . . . (Portsmouth: D. & R. Fowle, 1768). 141 CHAPTER 3 Humanitarian Essays 1: White Responsibilities to Indians "The Warres in Europe, Asia, and Affrica," James Smith wrote in 1631, "taught me how to subdue the wilde Salvages in Virginia and New- England, in America." Besides implying that all Indians were enemies to the whites or, more naively, that "all enemies are the same," Smith's assertion exemplifies the cocky matter-of-factness, the prac tical confidence that quickly became associated with the American spirit. Arrogance was not always evident in early American social documents— which explained man's relation to others and to the envi ronment— but a keen practical sense consistently was. Writing 150 years after Smith and with very different intentions, Anthony Benezet composed Some Observations on the . . . Indian Natives of this Con tinent (1784) to show the wisdom of treating the Indians as friends rather than foes. Though writing with very different intentions than Smith, Benezet nevertheless shared Smith's assured practicality, as typified by his prefatory admonition: Situated as we are on this Continent with very extensive frontiers, bordering upon a vast wilderness, inhabited by the native Indians, it becomes a subject worthy the most serious attention of every friend of mankind, every lover of his country, to be truly informed what is the situation and dis position of that people, so far as it may have an influence upon our duty as Christians, and our peace and safety as mem bers of Civil Society. * — r 4 2 _ Similarly, the abolition pamphlets of the 1700s insisted that, ideo logically speaking, slavery in any form whatsoever constituted a flagrant crime against both God and man— but, on "practical" grounds, evaded the question of how universal abolition was to be implemented. With maddening rationalism, these writers argued that immediate emancipation of all American slaves would be impossible, dangerous, or, at the very least, politically unwise, generally favoring instead a careful and gradual manumission, especially in the South. Indeed, the first American essays on interracial responsibility seem to have been governed more by a stubborn practicality than by any other force. All humanitarian essays of Colonial and Revolutionary America (which, in addition to those on race relationships, included writings on education, culture, health and sexuality, childhood and adolescent behavior, and family life) conformed to this same practi cality. Unlike the providence and confession/judgment narratives dis cussed in the previous two chapters, the Humanitarian Essay did not necessarily rely on scripture as its primary justification or support. Providence and confession narratives were, in the main, spiritual autobiographies. As such, they interpreted immediate individual ex perience in light of a personal, sometimes limited understanding of scripture. Their morality was frequently expressed in generalities ("Remember God," "Do not procrastinate your repentance," "Take jWarning from my example"); even when a specific moral stance was ad vocated, it was rarely controversial ("Do not drink to excess," "Do not commit murder, rape or theft," "Pray often"). 143 But the humanitarian essay— on one hand establishing the para meters of individual freedom and responsibility and, on the other, defining the standards of ideal society— was by nature controversial. And although the cultural-specific Mosaic Law and the absract ideol ogies of the Gospels were useful, at least symbolically, in measuring and explaining spiritual conversion or the providence of God, they were often of limited importance in charting the unfamiliar seas of American social change. Over the course of several centuries Europe, and especially Britain, had constructed from biblical codes a rela tively successful social framework. But European tradition did not always satisfy the unique and unpredictable exigencies of life in the American settlements. When the two were at odds, conservative practi cality intervened and generally carried the day. Thus, abolitionists diluted their sermons with qualifications and cautions, attempting to bend ideals to the political realities of the Southern colonies. Religionists predicting mass conversions among the Indians often admitted, after actual proselyting experience, the rather foolish futility of such hopes. Noah Webster insisted that a "good system of Education should be the first article in the code of political regulations" because it was "much easier to introduce and establish an effectual system for preserving morals, than to correct, by penal statutes, the ill effects of a bad system." In Common Sense, Thomas Paine established Colonial rights through appeals to Yankee rationalism. And according to Benjamin Franklin, even sex should be governed by practical law, utilized "for Health or Offspring" and never "to Dulness, Weakness, or . . . Injury."2 144 In addition to understanding the role of practicality in the humanitarian essay, it is useful to know, before assessing the social ethics of earlier decades, how questions of race and inter racial responsibility were answered at the end of the eighteenth century. New England enjoyed a maturing sense of social morality by 1800; simultaneously, the new nation was feeling the first prickings of its social conscience. But by modern civil libertarian standards, America was a woefully prejudiced and repressive nation. To expect that even the brightest, most influential of the eighteenth-century New England humanitarians— Anthony Benezet, Benjamin Franklin, David Cooper, Noah Webster— successfully escaped the moral morass of the 1600s is to invite disappointment. While profoundly influenced by the Enlightenment, Americans, like most Europeans, remained firmly en trenched in many of the biases, misconceptions, and traditions of their past. Anthony Benezet's writing provides a case in point. "To obviate some mistakes which have been embraced, respecting the Natives of this land," he said in Some Observations, "[I have] thrown together a few facts, . . . not wishing to say more in their favour than is supported by the concurrent testimonies of historians." His glibness belies the careful rationalism of what follows: If the Indian is represented to have been oppressed and in jured, it is not to provoke a spirit of retaliation, nor to excite a discontent, but to state to the view of the public, wherein they have been aggrieved; and wherein they have been culpable, that the people of these states may see they have not been free from blame in hopes that a more candid and in dulgent consideration of their situation may excite in us humanity and tenderness. Be not offended therefore if the Indian is represented as a rational being as well as ourselves, . . . and rejoice in 145 the opportunity, which a return of peace, may afford to in struct him in the true knowledge of God. ® In his essay, Benezet denounces a variety of popular misconcep tions— that Indians are "naturally ferocious, treacherous, and un grateful," a people "prone to every vice, and destitute of every virtue, and without a capacity for improvement"— and rebukes his peers for ignoring records which showed Indians, in the main, to be a "peaceable and inoffensive" race who valued "modest conduct" and pos sessed "dispositions and natural powers" which were "equally with [those of the whites] capable of improvement in knowledge and vir tue.'^ Yet other, surprisingly cruel stereotypes elude Benezet and are even propagated by his essay. He declares, for example, that Indians "seldom differ with their neighbour, or do them any harm or injury, except when intoxicated by strong liquor, of which they are fond, to an enormous degree," adding that a proclivity to drink and drunken ness is "the general character given of Indians, by all impartial writers." And though he avoids calling the Indians "savages,” he fre quently refers to them as "the tawney Indian[s]," "the poor untutored Indian[s]," "those poor people," and "the Natives,"® thereby imply ing a deficiency in race, knowledge and civility. Finally, there is throughout the essay— as is evident from the paragraphs just quoted — the sense that Indians are wild creatures requiring taming; more specifically, that they demand taming through exposure to Christianity and that every opportunity must be sought to guarantee such exposure. This viewpoint, of course, negates the spiritual beliefs— together 146 with related cultural systems and traditions— indigenous to the various tribes. Jonathan Edwards encounters similar pitfalls when preaching an abolition sermon in 1791. He begins on firm moral ground, arguing that it is impossible that "our fathers, and men now alive, universally reputed pious, should hold Negro slaves, and yet be the subjects of real piety," declaring that "to reduce a man, who hath the same right to liberty as any other man, to a state of absolute slavery" is "as great a crime as concubinage or fornication." As to the argument that blacks imported to America have been "rewarded" with the opportunity to accept Christianity, Edwards observes: "We are not at liberty to do evil, that good may come." He says further, "It would be ridicu lous to pretend that this is the motive on which they act who import them [black slaves], or they who buy and hold them in slavery." And responding to the assertion that a black brought to America as a slave is happier than a free black in Africa, Edwards insists, "We have no more right to enslave them and bring them into this country, than we have to enslave any of our neighbours, who we judge would be more happy under our controul, than they are at present under their own."6 But like many early abolitionists, Edwards talks too long; before concluding his essay he has perpetuated several ugly distinctions between whites and blacks. "Slavery tends to lewdness," he says at one point, as it affords abundant opportunity for that wickedness, with out either the danger and difficulty of an attack on the vir tue of a woman of chastity, or the danger of a connection with one of ill fame. A planter with his hundred wenches about him is in some respects at least like the Sultan in his seraglio.7 147 Edwards's crude classification of all black women as "wenches" and his summarily denying them either chastity or virtue is hardly less of fensive to modern sensitivities than his final warning to slave holders in the West Indies and the South: If therefore our southern brethren, and the inhabitants of the West-Indies, would balance their accounts with their Negro slaves at the cheapest possible rate, they will doubtless judge it prudent, to leave the country, with all their houses, lands and improvements, to their quiet possession and domin ion; as otherwise providence will compel them to a much dearer settlement, and one attended with a circumstance inconceivably more mortifying than the loss of all their real estates, I mean the mixture of their blood with that of the Negroes into one common posterity.8 To restate an earlier argument, even the finest humanitarian minds, the most educated of eighteenth-century Americans, were encum bered by contemporary beliefs, traditions, and responses. According ly, race relations at the onset of the nineteenth century were marked by gross disparities between ideology and practice. Blacks were em braced as "fellow human beings" and "brothers," but were not conceded cultural, ethical or intellectual equality. Indians were viewed with increasing frequency as "noble savages"— but the "nobility" was in extricably linked to and qualified by a condition of "savagery." This much said, it may be argued that the 1700s constituted the most significant era of social reform America has known. In addition to the Revolution itself, there were sweeping changes in church doc trine and structure as well as in the orthodoxy of religious adher ents; the first signs of American urbanization became evident; public education was made available to increasing numbers of children, and curriculum standards were set up; the arts began to flourish as cultural freedom expanded; the foundations of modern American science 148 and medicine were established; the lure and power of free enterprise became increasingly apparent; criminal and civil codes were revised and court procedure was significantly improved; and flexible, endur ing systems of national and state governments evolved. And though race relations remained bound by misconceptions and "practicality," they also were modified and improved through eighteenth-century re forms: by the late 1700s, issues of race, civil rights and equality were being discussed, if not always acted upon; Indians and blacks had been accorded at least partial equality by the more compassion ate, most forward-looking whites. And though— as has been empha sized— one must be careful not to assume a twentieth-century lib eralism among eighteenth-century proponents of human equality, one might argue that changes in race relations between 1600 and 1800 were at least as great as those which have taken place between 1800 and the present. The basis for such an argument rests with the recogni tion of many eighteenth-century Americans that all citizens should be guaranteed equal rights: and after the passage of more than two hun dred years, we have yet to progress significantly beyond that point. Too, improvements in race relations prior to 1800 were due not so much to the magnitude of eighteenth-century reforms as to the hor rendously inferior position accorded to non-whites, and especially to blacks, by seventeenth-century Western society. To Europeans of the early 1600s, for example, Native Africans and other primitive peoples were often viewed as animals; at best, they were seen as the less- than-human products of a degenerate and fallen culture. And although certain of the early settlers hypothesized that Native Americans were 149 a remnant of the Lost Tribes of Israel and therefore eligible for acceptance into white society on conditions of repentance, such ac ceptance was more "theory" than "practice," accorded only after bap tism and a complete rejection of Indian culture and its "heathen ways." For a number of reasons— among them the fact that the Negro was frequently defined as the descendant of Cain— blacks rarely, if ever, enjoyed a similar acceptance prior to 1800, even following con version and baptism. I . Because, indeed, the first settlers on American soil brought with them the prejudices and ignorance of their European homelands, they tended to categorize Native Americans with Africans, Chinese, Arabians, Ceylonese, West Indians, and other aboriginal groups. In deed, the depiction of the American Indian circulated in Europe during the late 1500s was largely fictitious, a kind of amalgam of the abo rigines of the known world. Many of the initial reports concerning the Indian were contradictory. In some, he was confused with the na tives of South America: he was said to inhabit large cities and to possess great wealth; in others, he was depicted as a cannibal or even a devil incarnate. Although these reports were gradually amended by first-hand accounts of New World settlers, rumors of Indian trea sure— or of unimaginable Indian atrocities— motivated or dissuaded would-be immigrants through the mid-1600s. Perhaps it was only natural that early descriptions of the natives of India also would be applied to those of America. John of 150 Doesborowe's brief report of "great Indyen [India]" in his Of the newe landes and of ye people founde by the messengers of the kynge of portugale named Emanuel (London, ca. 1520), for example, speaks of "manye mervelouse people" who "goo all naked but that the[y] kyver there members with lynen cloth and . . . they be brounde blacke with longe here and of the women is not wryten but [that they] bere there chyldren and theyr householde stuffe."9 In its focus on the natives' state of undress and wild appearance, their unusual or "mervelouse" habits, and the hardiness of their women, this early sixteenth- century account anticipates primary elements of later reports of American Indians, as does John Nicholl's 1607 account of the natives of the West Indies: These Carrebyes at their first comming in our sight, did seeme most strange and ugly, by reason they are all naked, with long black haire hanging downe their shoulders, their bodies all painted with red, and from their eares to their eyes, they do make three strokes with red, which makes them looke like divels or Anticke faces, wherein they take a great pride.10 One of the earliest reports of North American Indians is Dionyse [or Dionysius] Settle's A true reporte of the laste voyage into the West and Northwest regions (1577), which provides rather extensive accounts of the natives of Newfoundland. Settle attributes to these Northwest Indians a desperate ferocity and courage; this, perhaps more than any other element of Settle's account, caught the imagi nation of Britons interested in the New World and colored subsequent portrayals of native North Americans. He writes: They fiercely assaulted oure men with their bowes and arrowes, who wounded three of them with our arrowes: and perceyving them selves thus hurt, they desperately leapt off the Rocks into the Sea, and drowned them selves: which if they had not done, but had submitted them selves: or if by any means we 151 could have taken them alive ... we would both have saved them, and also have sought remedie to cure their woundes re ceived at our handes. But they, altogether voyde of humani- tie, and ignorant what mercy meaneth, in extremities looke for no other then death: and perceyving they should fall into our handes, thus miserably by drowning rather desired death, then otherwise to be saved by us.11 A second influential aspect of Settle's account is his assigning to the Newfoundlanders a brute nature: few subsequent Indian accounts conclude without some mention of incivility or inferior breeding. For Settle, the incivility is most evident in dietary and dining habits: They eate their meate all rawe, both fleshe, fishe, and foule, or something perboyled with bloud & a little water, whiche they drinke. For lacke of water, they wil[l] eate yce, that is hard frosen, as pleasantly as we will doe Sugar Can- die, or other Sugar. If they . . . stand in neede . . . , such grasse as the countrie yeeldeth they plucke uppe, and eate, not deintily, or salletwise, to allure their stomaches to appetite: . . . with out either salt, oyles, or washing, like brute beasts devour ing the same. They neither use table, stoole, or table cloth for comelinesse: but when they are imbrued with bloud, knuckle deepe, and their knives in like sort, they use their tongues as apt instruments to licke them cleane: in doeing whereof, they are assured to loose none of their victuals. . . . I thinke them . . . [perhaps] devourers of mans fleshe, then otherwise: for that there is flesh or fishe, which they finde dead, (smell it never so filthily) but they will eate it, as they finde it, without any other dressing. A loathsome spectacle, either to the beholders, or hearers.12 Thomas Harriot, who accompanied Sir Walter Raleigh on several of his Virginia expeditions during the 1580s, wrote A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia in 1588. In it, he points to the ignorance of the Indians he encountered, describing them as "a people poore" who, "for want of skill and judgment in the knowledge and use of our things, doe esteeme our trifles before things of greater value." He goes on to say, however, that "considering the want of such meanes as we have, they seeme very ingenious"; for, he --------------------------------------------------------------------1-52- affirms, "although they have no such tooles, nor any such craftes, sciences and artes as wee; yet in those things they doe, they shewe excellencie of wit." Indeed, Harriot is remarkably objective, making allowances for the Indian culture when he is not openly admiring it. And though he desires that the Indians "may in short time be brought to civilitie, and the imbracing of true religion," he also provides one of the best of the early accounts of Indian faith, describing the pantheon of the Virginia Indians, their belief in an afterworld, and their traditions concerning the origins of life.13 One of only a few areas— besides religion— where Harriot implies a distinct superiority of white culture is in military preparedness. ie smiles at the Indians' "maner of warres amongst themselves" which, le says, is "either by surprising one an other most commonly about the dawning of the day, or moone light; or els[e] by ambushes or some sut- tle devises." Set battles are "very rare," occurring only "where there are many trees, where eyther party may have some hope of defence, Lfter the deliverie of every arrow, in leaping behind some [tree] or other." And regarding Indian skirmishes with the whites, he writes: If there fall out any warres between us & them, what their fight is likely to bee, we having advantages against them so many maner of waies, as by our discipline, our strange wea pons and devises els[e]; especially by ordinance great and small, it may be easily imagined; by the experience we have had in some places, the turning up of their heeles against us in running away was their best defence.14 The frequent fighting between Indians and white settlers was minimized in many early pamphlets and books, which focused instead on the peculiarities of Indian dress and tradition. Perhaps this was because most early documents were written by men who had vested in 153 terests in plantation companies and who were well aware of the wide spread pessimism generated by press coverage and word-of-mouth re ports of Indian attacks on New World settlers. Indeed, such incidents as the burnings and killings which followed one Captain Hunt's sell ing a cargo of New England Indians into Spanish slavery in 1609, the "Jamestown massacres" between 1610 and 1620, and the frequent forays on the Plymouth colony were widely known despite the fact that for mally published accounts were not available until years or even decades after their occurrence.15 John Smith's report of attacks on Jamestown, for example, appears in his New Englands Trials (1622), over twelve years after the worst of the skirmishes. Not only is the report brief, but blame is effectually placed on the whites: Since the newes of the massacre in Virginia, though the In dians continue their wonted friendship, yet are we more wary of them then before; for their hands hath bin embrued in much English blood, onely by too much confidence, but not by force. . . . They did not kill the English because they were Christians, but for their weapons and commodities, that were rare novelties; but now they feare we may beate them out of their dens, which Lions and Tygers would not admit but by force.16 The implication, clearly, is that the danger has passed: the cause of the Indian attacks has been discovered; caution and strength among the whites will prevent future incursions. And in case the reader has missed the point, Smith adds this assurance: When I had ten men able to go abroad, our common wealth was very strong: with such a number I ranged that unknown country 14 weeks; I had but 18 to subdue them all, with which great army I stayed six weekes before their greatest Kings habita tions.17 The "Council for New England," a company backing one of the Vir ginia plantations, issued A briefe Relation of the Discovery and 154 Plantation of New-England in 1622, the same year Smith's New Englands Trials appeared. The Council proudly declared: Wee have setled at this present, severall Plantations along the Coast, and have granted Patents to many more that are in preparation to bee gone with all conveniencie. . . . Finding that wee have so far forth prevailed, as to winde our selves into familiarity with the Natives, (which are in no great number) along the Coast for two hundred Leagues together, wee have now dispatched some of our people of purpose, to dive into the bowels of the Continent, there to search and finde out what port, or Place, is most con venient to settle our maine Plantation in, where wee meane to make the Residencie of our State and Government.18 And though a broadside such as The Inconveniencies that Have Happened to Some Persons Which Have Transported Themselves from Eng land to Virginia (1622) emphasized the need for a man to procure a "compleat light Armour," one "long Peece, five foor or five and a halfe, neere Musket bore," a sword, a belt, a "bandaleere," "Twenty pound of powder," and "Sixty pound of shot or lead" before sailing for the New World (only the "shot or lead" and the "long Peece," pre sumably, to be used in hunting game), most advertisements of planta tions in Virginia and elsewhere ignored the issue of Indian/white relations in their applause of the "goodly Rivers," the "plenty and variety of wilde beasts," the "change and variety of foode," and the abundance of free land, with the average settler promised up to "fif ty Acres" to be deeded "to him and his heires for ever."19 Conveyed in these early reports is the sense that just as surely as the Lord will richly provide for immigrants to America, he will guarantee their protection from the Indians. The colonists are left to marvel at the strength God had given them through their weapons and forti fications or to admire "how strangely [the Indians' numbers] decreast 155 by the Hand of God, since the English first setling [sic] of those parts." Of a series of disagreements between the Indians and the Ply mouth colonists during 1631, for example, Increase Mather observed: About this time the Indians began to be quarrelsome touching the bounds of the Land which they had sold to the English; but God ended the controversy by sending the small pox amongst the Indians at Saugust, who were before that time exceeding numerous.20 ?or a modern reader, this statement goes beyond simple testament of divine protection: it is, in fact, redolent of grim humor or smug racism. Mather would have intended neither. He was simply recording — as he perceived it— God's providence in preparing America for the Puritans, inviting comparisons with the divine preparation of the loly Land for the ancient Israelites. For the Puritans, as well as for settlers in most other areas of the New World, the Indians were no more than an abstract component of a wildnerness which had to be jcut back and tamed to better accommodate Civilization, Culture and Christianity— to give, in the words of John Smith, "glory to God, honour to his Majesty, and profit to his Kingdomes."21 No single event occurring in the American settlements prior to 1630 more clearly demonstrated the British/Colonial passion to honor |God and Empire than did the Jamestown marriage of John Rolfe to Poca hontas in 1614; it was also the supreme example of selfless practi cality. Though Rolfe was apparently in love with his bride, his let ter requesting permission from Sir Thomas Dale (the acting governor of the colony) to follow his "best thoughts" clearly implies poli tical motives as well: 156 Let . . . this my well advised protestation, which here I make [b]etween God and my own conscience, be a sufficient witnesse, at the dreadfull day of ju[dg]ement ... to condemn me here in, if my chiefest intent, and purpose be not, to strive with all my power of body and minde, in the undertaking of so mightie a matter, no way led . . . with the unbridled desire of carnall affection: but for the good of this plantation, for the honour of our countrie, for the glory of God, for my owne salvation, and for the coverting to the true knowledge of God and Jesus Christ, an unbeleeving creature, namely Po- kahuntas. To whom my hartie and best thoughts are, and have a long time bin so intangled, and inthralled in so intricate a laborinth, that I was ever awearied to unwinde my selfe thereout. But almighty God, who never faileth his, that true- ly invocate his holy name, hath opened the gate, and led me by the hand that I might plainely see and discerne the safe paths wherein to t r e a d e . ^ 2 In his history of the Virginia colony, Ralph Hamor emphasizes that Rolfe's marriage was the result of disinterested practicality rather than selfish love, a sacrifice rather than a pleasure. Despite Rolfe's contributions as the first British cultivator of tobacco in the New World, Hamor points to Rolfe's marriage "with Powhatans daughter, one of rude education, manners barbarous and cursed genera tion, meerely for the good and honour of the Plantation" as primary evidence that "no man hath laboured to his power" as a "good example" to the settlers or to the "worthy incouragement" of England.23 From the 1570s through 1630, then, the colonists explored con texts for associating with the Indians, examining superficialities such as dress, diet and behavior in their attempts to discover deeper elements of Indian culture and psyche. More often than not, however, the colonists were frustrated in their efforts to deal with and understand the native American; and when they were, colonial "prac ticality" was almost certain to be saddled up and ridden rough-shod over Indian society. ----------------------------------------------------------- 1ST Perceived moral responsibilities to the Indians were nebulous during this period, consisting of abstract goals to make the Indians part of British (or French or Spanish) and Christian culture. For most Europeans, apparently, initial encounters with the Indian held the promise of a bright future: the natives seemed generous, tract able, and reasonably receptive to fundamental Western ideals and Christian tenets. It is significant that, with the possible exception of the Puritans, the earliest colonists considered the Rolfe/Pocahon- jtas union to be well within the bounds of social propriety evidence that white society was potentially accessible to the Native American, or at least to Indian nobility. Squanto, Pocahontas, and other In- Lians taken to Britain during the early 1600s were met with voracious curiosity and were entertained, when their lineage invited it, as rustic royalty. Though later Indian visitors to Britain were received with equal interest and attention, and though a European interest in Native Amer icans persisted well into the nineteenth century, the hope that re- iligious zeal and humanitarian displays would unite the Indian nation with the white was on the wane as early as 1630.24 Indeed, when ini tial efforts by the colonists to "civilize" the Indians were stymied by language barriers and by the Indians' indifference to most aspects of white culture, the colonists tended to dismiss the objects of their charity as hopelessly barbaric and savage. Practicality demanded in this case that, if the Indians truly wanted it, they be left in their "cultural mire"— and, because of suspicions raised by their differ ences, that the Indians be considered enemies against whom protection 1 5 8 - should be sought. Because early colonial expectations of the Indians rarely were met, in other words, the first sixty years of interaction between the groups were marked by widely contrasting emotions and re- Lponses: wonderment and indifference, fascination and disgust, co operation and rivalry, trust and suspicion. The next period of Indian/white relations lasted not quite fifty years, from 1630 to 1675. It was marked by four important elements. Pirst was the establishment of a permanent white foothold in the New World. Second was a new appreciation for and objectivity among certain educated whites in discussing the American Indian, most prominently (exemplified by Thomas Morton's New English Canaan or New Canaan (1637). Third, proselyting efforts among the Indians were relegated to ordained ministers or missionaries rather than being undertaken by the settlements at large. Finally, there was an emergence of white concern for Indian education, secular as well as religious. During this period, perceived moral responsibility to the Indian remained centered in missionary work. However, in addition to baptiz ing the Indian, white ministers were concerned with providing him an education and exposure to white society. And the objective and non religious writings of such men as Thomas Morton were the basis of the position engendered by such romanticists as Fenimore Cooper nearly two centuries later: that a crucial white responsibility to the Na tive American was the preservation of his identity and culture. Though it was a dozen years newer than Jamestown, the colony at Plymouth was by far the stronger of the two in 1630, attracting lar --------- 159 ger numbers gf settlers and having a more secure government. While lloth colonies relied on imports from Britain for survival, each was successfully harvesting a variety of crops; Jamestown had been ex porting tobacco to England for over a decade. And though the threat of Indian attacks was perpetually in the air, stronger fortifications and expanding numbers of immigrants made it increasingly improbable that either settlement would be entirely destroyed in such attacks. The Indians, in short, were realizing that their unwanted guests had taken up permanent residence; the whites, on the other hand, had seen most of their blundering efforts to civilize or convert the Indians end in failure— and were rapidly learning that they would instigate no easy or irreversible changes in Indian culture. By the late 1650s the most terrible of the Indian epidemics had come and gone, the European-imported smallpox, dysentery, influenza, and fevers claiming the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands. Those who chose to see the hand of God in this "thinning" of the Indians— I claiming, as has been pointed out, that it was done to accommodate white settlement— were quick to point out that it was indeed a thin ning and not a destruction. Later it would be argued that this "rem nant" had been preserved to keep the whites in remembrance of spiri tual things, the destruction of the Indians a foreshadowing of their own end should they forsake God and their covenants with him. At any rate, neither the Indian nor his society was easily annihilated; and all whites, religious and non-religious alike, were gradually con vinced that they would be coexisting with the Native American for 160 decades to come, perhaps always. Accordingly, white laws and social systems necessarily became concerned with Indian affairs. For some of the whites, undoubtedly, the recognition of Indian tenaciousness along the East Coast came with shock. Others seemed almost to welcome it. Thomas Morton, for example, was more loath to associate with the Puritans than with the Indians. "In 1622," he says in New English Canaan (1637), it was my chance to be landed in the parts of New England, where I found two sortes of people, the one Christians, the other Infidels, these [the "Infidels"] I found most full of humanity, and more friendly then the other: as [I found] by their severall actions from time to time, whilest I lived among them.26 Morton was, of course, eventually exiled by "Captain Shrimp" and the Puritans for his raucous celebrations at Merry-Mount; one might as sume, then, that his writing is largely an emotional reaction or a rhetorical revenge on Puritan society. However, the great quantity of objective detail about New England Indian tribes renders this assump tion implausible: over one-fourth of Morton's history— the first 58 pages— is occupied in a presentation of "the originall of the Na tives, their Manners and Customes, together with their tractable Na ture and Love towards the English."26 Morton's admiration of Indian culture is genuine; to describe the geography and the natives of America is the true purpose of his book— and not to condemn New Eng land, Miles Standish, or the Puritan religion. Indeed, Morton's work is a milestone in British portrayal of the American Indian.27 It relies on careful detail and observation rather than assumption or guesswork; it is relatively wide-ranging in its subject matter, examining not only such "obvious" topics as dress an 161 diet but deeper issues of character and culture; and, most important ly, it is the product of an objective and open mind. Morton may have been the first British colonist, for example, to show a clear-headed appreciation for Indian dress. After describing "mantels made of Beares skinnes," "shoes of Moose skinnes," deerskin stockings, the "broad peece of lether that goeth betweene [the] leggs" to "hide [the] secreats of nature" of every male "after he attaines unto the age, which they call Pubes," the leather "breech es" which "looke like Irish . . . trousers," the belt, the cloak, and the bag which holds fire flints, Morton exclaims: Thus with their bow in their left hand, and their quiver of Arrowes at their back, hanging one [sic] their left shoulder with the lower end of it, in their right hand, they will runne away at dogg trot, untill they come to their journey['s] end, and in this kinde of ornament, (they doe seeme to me) to be handsomer, then when they are in English apparrell,. their gesture being answerable to their o[wn] habit and not unto ours. Morton also is unique among the earliest writers in praising the women for possessing "as much modesty as civilized people"— insist ing that they "deserve to be applauded for it"— and in admiring their physical strength and endurance, even when pregnant: Yet when they are as great as they can be, yet in that case they neither forbeare laboure, nor travaile, I have seene them in that plight with burthens at their backs enough to load ahorse, yet doe they not miscarry, but have a faire delivery, and a quick, their women are very good midwifes, and the women very lusty after delivery and in a day or two will travell or trudge about.29 In his fifteenth chapter, "Of their admirable perfection, in the use of the sences," Morton prefigures Cooper and others who romanti cized the "survival skills" of the Indian. He insists that "the Sal vages have the sence of seeing so farre beyond any of our Nation, 162- :hat one would allmost beleeve they had intelligence of the Devill." He claims to know from observation that an Indian is "so perfect in the use" of his sense of smell that he "will distinguish between a Spaniard and a Frenchman by the s[c]ent." And he swears he accom panied a certain Indian who, by "viewing and smelling" two intersect ing sets of deer tracks, determined which of the two was the fresher and hence belonged to the buck he had just wounded. Writes Morton: '[We] thereby followe[d] the chase and kille[d] that Deare, and I did eate part of it with him."30 Morton concludes his treatise on the Indians with the argument jthat "the Salvages live a contended [sic] life," virtually alone among early historians in his belief that the Indians are other than degen- Lrate and miserable: If our beggers [sic] of England should with so much ease (as they,) furnish themselves with foode, at all season, there would not be so many starved in the streets, neither would so many gaoles be stuffed, or the gallouses furnished with poore wretches, as I have seene them.31 In its appreciation of the Indians and its wealth of objective detail (concerning their culture, Morton's work in effect established the pattern for educated treatments of native Americans written after 1637, together with the morality which accompanied such treatments. Few, however, so skillfully blended humor, fact, anecdote and anal ysis or were recorded by so personable a narrator.3^ As was mentioned earlier, efforts to convert the Indians to Christianity were, after 1630, left to ministers and ordained mis sionaries. When a lay member participated in missionary labors, he generally did so under the direction of the clergy. In the rare cases 163 when he acted on his own volition, he invariably had ulterior motives. This was certainly true of William Castell, whose Petition ... to the High Court of Parliament now assembled, for the propagating of the Gospel in America (1641) has mercantilism and political maneuver ing— and not Indian conversion— as its central themes. Speaking of the probability that Spanish interests in the New World "will be troublesome to our Plantations," Castell asserts: There is no way more likely to secure England, then by having a strong Navie there [in America]; hereby wee may come to share, if not utterly to defeat him [the Spaniard] of that vaste Indian Treasure, wherewith hee setteth on fire so great a part of the Christian World, corrupteth many Counsellors of state, supporteth the Papacie, and generally perplexeth all reformed Churches.33 Before 1630, mercantilism often had been associated with prose lyting. A perceived moral obligation of British society was to teach Christianity to the primitive peoples in the various outreaches of the British Empire. And so, in ploys to secure backing from wealthy bene factors, American plantation companies passed themselves off as "mis sionary minded" institutions which, among other things, were or ganized to baptize the American Indian. Though many early companies made honest efforts to introduce the Indian to "orthodox religion," later companies— as typified by Castell's proposal— sometimes did not. But as the difficulties of Indian proselyting became increasingly apparent and as disgruntled benefactors began withdrawing their sup port, the companies turned with increasing frequency to other back ers, those with interests in agriculture, fishing, and lumber; and later, in manufacturing and the slave trade. Christian benevolence 164 eventually was channeled to the American Indian through formal Brit ish organizations such as the Corporation for the Propagation of the Gospel in New England (founded during the 1640s), the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge (1699), and the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (ca. 1701).34 In addition to its being dissociated from mercantilism, prose lyting to the Indians following 1630 was distinguished from that of Larlier decades by significant changes in philosophy and method. Vir tually all early proselyting was attempted in English rather than in ■Indian dialects, a missionary relying on interpreters to convey his testimony to an Indian audience. In Plain Dealing: Or, Newes from New- England (1642), Thomas Lechford complains that there is in the plan tations surrounding Massachusetts Bay "much neglect of endeavours, to teach, civilize, and convert the Indian natiori'; he wonders, in fact, "whether by the received principles [the procedures currently em ployed], it bee possible to teach, civilize, or convert them, or when they are converted, to maintain Gods worship among them." Lechford is perhaps the first historian to suggest that language barriers contri bute to the inefficiency of missionary work in the colonies. Praising the man who was perhaps America's first "bilingual educator," Lechford writes: Master Henry Dunster, Schoolmaster of Cambridge, deserves commendations above many; he hath the plat-forme and way of conversion of the Natives, indifferent right, and much studies the same, wherein yet he wants not opposition, as some other also have met with: he will, without doubt, prove an instru ment of much good in the Countrey, being a good Scholar, and having skil[l] in the Tongues; He will make it good, that the way to instruct the Indians, must be in their owne language, not English; . . . that their [own] language may be per fected.35 165 Apparently others agreed that Dunster had the best manner of teaching the Indians "indifferent right": Colonial and British clergymen and scholars almost immediately began learning and transcribing various Indian languages. And, over the course of the next hundred years, a variety of catechisms, primers, and other materials were "translated" into the more common of these tongues. There was in New England during the early 1640s a revival of the notion that all Indian tribes indigenous to that area would, given sufficient time, embrace Christianity; that eventually the Indians would become one with the whites. In their zeal, as Charles Segal and David Stineback demonstrate, the Puritans were governed by the con viction that Native Americans "lived in the clutches of Satan"; while the Indians themselves insisted that they did not need "saving."36 Segal and Stineback define this as the root of all white/Indian ten sions, especially in New England, though originally it was a primary source of white optimism concerning Indian affairs. The anonymous author of New Englands First Fruits (1643), for example, declares: Some of [the Indians] are able to give us account of the Ser mons they heare, and of the word read and expounded . . . , and are convinced of their sinfull and miserable Estates, and affected with the sense of Gods displeasure, and the thoughts of Eternity, and will sometimes tremble and melt into teares at our opening and pressing the Word upon their Consciences.37 As a case in point, this author tells of "an Indian Maid at Salem" who would "often come from the word, crying out with abundance of teares, concluding that she must burne when she die," declaring that she would be "miserable for ever, unlesse free Grace should prevent it." After this, says the historian, she "grew very carefull of her carriage, proved industrious in her place, and so continued."38 This writer goes on to list four likely reasons for Puritan suc cess in convincing the "poore retches [sic] to looke after the Gos pel." First, he says, was the fact that New England was settled "not with violence and intrusion, but free and faire, with [the Indians’ ] consent and allowance." Second, that no additional lands were taken junless the Indians were recompensed "to content." Third, that "they have had justice truly exercised towards them in all other particular |acts," to the extent that, if injured by a white, an Indian might bring him before "any of our Magistrates, or the publique Court" with the certainty that he would "be righted to the utmost, by us." Final ly, that the "humanity of the English towards them doth much gaine upon them" in being used "familiarly and courteously, with loving terraes, good looks, and kind salutes."39 These four principles were the basis not only for proselyting efforts but for all social rela tions with the Indians in the area around Plymouth. Though this set of principles later was abused throughout most of New England, the citizens of Philadelphia more than a century later would pride them selves in having consistently dealt with the Indians according to these very tenets. While there are a number of early accounts of Indian conversion, many— including those in New Englands First Fruits— record only re ceipts of Christ's witness and subsequent baptisms, providing little information about the factors leading to conversion or changes in an individual's life following baptism. Such vagueness, of course, tends to bring into question the veracity of these early accounts— or, at least, the veracity of the conversions which they report. 167 One of the changes in proselyting philosophy following the 1630s seems to have been towards an equating of Indian conversion with white conversion, so that histories of Indian conversions, like those of whites, became analyses of the operation of divine providence in men's lives. Representative of this approach is Tears of Repentance; Or, A further Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel Amongst the In dians in New England (1663), a compilation by John Eliot and Thomas Mayhew. This pamphlet is a brief history of the religious and scho lastic accomplishments of the Natick Indians, a small tribe centered near Boston. The focus of the work is a series of confessions made by Indian converts, appropriately supplemented by conversions accounts and— more importantly— glimpses into converts' lives several months or even years following baptism. These "follow-up glimpses" show the Indians successfully meeting challenges of bereavement and hardship, thereby affirming the permanance of their religious convictions. One of the confessions which Eliot and Mayhew include is that of a middle-aged Indian named Poquanum who admits to having "greatly sinned" before his conversion and to having "used Adultery, Lust, Lying, . . . evil thoughts, evil words, and nothing else but evil": A Great while ago the English would tell me of God but I hated it and would go out of doors, when they so spake unto me, and I murmured at it. When the Indians first prayed to God, I did not think there was a God, or that the Bible was Gods Book, but that wise men made it: When some prayed to God, I went with them, but I did not know God. Afterward my mind was changed thus far, That I desired to be wise, as others were, but yet I knew nothing of God; yea, after I prayed to God, I still did think there was no God. ... I thought we prayed for nothing but that our souls might go to Heaven; I knew nothing of Christ. But after, when the Children were Cate chised, and taught the ten Commandements [sic], I heark[e]ned, and by them I came to know that there was a God, and that there was sin against God; and hereby God made me to see all 168 my sins, both before I prayed to God, and since; and I saw Gods anger against me for my sins, before, and since I prayed, because sometimes I came not to the Meeting; brake my word, regarded not my children, and I see sin in me, and ther[e]fore I d[id] greatly fear Gods anger. . . . And first I thought God will not pardon me, because I still sinned. But afterward I heard, though we should pray as long as we live, and never sin more, yet that was of no value; but we must beleeve [sic] in Christ, else there is no pardon; and this I rejoyced at.40 The honesty with which Eliot and Mayhew record Poquanum's confession preserves its candor and its implicit doubts and fears. And regard less of the apparent sincerity of Poquanum's religious convictions, the Eliot/Mayhew record also preserves an intimation of certain cru cial tensions between white and Indian society: the apparent selfish ness of Christianity (in its focus on individual salvation) as opposed to the family- and group-centered values of Indian religion; Indian suspicion of white society, especially of books, knowledge and for mal education; the cultural separation between the Indian and the Christian God. Whatever its implicit suspicions or tensions, Poquanum's confes sion shows a remarkable mastery of the Christian idiom and mind-set, a mastery attained by many of the early Indian converts, a mastery most clearly evident in times of tragedy or death. Of two brothers who lost small children to dysentery in 1652, one testified he "could not tell whether the sorrow for the death of his child, or the joy for its faith were greater, when it died." The other, who also lost his wife to the disease, felt no anger or bitterness, only expressing "great wonderment at the grace of God, in teaching his Child so [early] to call upon God."4- * - This and other Eliot/Mayhew accounts sound re markably like the Mathers' later histories of devout white Puritans. 1 6 9 The small success enjoyed by a handful of New England ministers, however, does not seem to have been matched by colonists from other settlements. In Virginia, for example, Indian influences on British settlers seems to have been much greater than those of the British on the Indians, so that by 1662 there was a growing Concern, both in Britain and in Virginia itself, that a certain duty "of such Chris tians as seat Plantations among the Heathen" had been neglected, the duty to unite their Habitations in Societies in Towns and Villages, as may best convenience them constantly to attend upon the publique Ministry of Gods Word, Sacraments and worship. A Duty of . . . cleer [sic] consequence from Holy Scripture, and . . . necessary to be put in practise, for procuring the well being of such Plantations [as are now established in Vir ginia].42 And if one carefully reads Eliot's A Brief Narrative of the Pro gress of the Gospel amongst the Indians in New-England (1671), one perceives a certain despair underlying the hopeful rhetoric, a certain souring of the optimism of Eliot's earlier writings, including Tears of Repentance. After proudly informing the reader, for example, that Natick is "our chiefe Town, where most and chief of our Rulers, and most of the Church dwells," that "the Sacraments in the Church are for the most part here administered," and that "we have betwixt forty and fifty Communicants at the Lord's Table," Eliot makes this admission: We have betwixt forty and fifty . . . when they all appear, but now some are dead, and some decriped [sic] with age; and one under Censure, yet making towards a recovery; one died here the last Winter of the Stone, a temperate, sober, godly man, the first Indian that ever was known to have that dis ease: but now another hath the same disease.43 Eliot's unstated but nonetheless real complaints show that, at its height, the early missionary movement among the New England In 170 dians was weak If not utterly ineffectual. With its largest member ship reaching no more than some forty-odd souls, even the strongest Indian congregation could not feasibly be operated according to tra ditional procedures. And by the early 1670s, even this "healthy church" was severely hampered by its aging and infirm membership and by its failure to attract new— and especially young— converts. Similarly, Eliot's "word or two of Apology" for having "ordained Indian Officers unto the Ministry of the Gospel" is much more an in dictment of indifferent British and Colonial support— a complaint— than a confirmation of the health of Indian Christianity, despite his argument that an Indian teacher is "especially advantaged that he speaketh [the Indian] language and knoweth their manners": I find it hopeless to expect English Officers in our Indian Churches; the work is full of hardship, hard labour, and chargeable also, and the Indians not yet capable to give con siderable support and maintenance; and Men have bodies, and must live on the Gospel; And what comes from England is liable to hazard and uncertainties. . . . There is no appearance of hope for their souls feeding in that way: they must be trained up to be able to live of themselves in the ways of the Gospel of Christ.44 Though the early colonists were generally frustrated in their attempts to baptize the Indian, their efforts to educate him became increasingly successful. As early as 1643, for example, the anonymous author of New Englands First Fruits gave this account of the earliest "Indian schools" in Boston: Divers of the Indians Children Boyes and Girles we have re ceived into our houses, who are long since civilized and in subjection to us, painfull and handy in their businesse, and can speak our language familiarly; divers of whom can read English, and begin to understand in their measure.45 for this anonymous historian, the success of what was perhaps the first New England experiment in Indian education was measured by the rapid adjustment of its subjects to the white culture. "Some of them," he says, "are much in love with us, and cannot indure [sic] to returne any more to the Indians."46 By the early 1650s, a permanent Lchool had been established among the New England Indians living in the town of Natick. "About 30. Indian Children," wrote Thomas Mayhew in 1652, "are now in School, which began the Eleventh day of the Eleventh month. 1651." These children, he continues, "are apt to Learn, and more and more are now sending in unto them."47 Thomas Shepard writes of a tribe indigenous to the Concord area whose Chief desired to have "a Towne given them within the bounds of Concord neare unto the English" so that they might be more strongly in fluenced by the white culture; the chief declared that if his tribe lived apart from the English, they "would be all one Indians [sic] still"— but if they settled nearby, "it might be otherwise with them."48 The "principall men" among the Concord Indians met in November, 1646, to work out a system of "Conclusions and Orders" for self- government. Though Shepard does not fully analyze the success of their experiment, he implies that their 29 proposals were moderately, if only temporarily, successful in establishing a kind of Christian order within the tribe. Some of the more interesting proposals fol low: That every one that shall abuse themselves with wine or strong liquors, shall pay for every time so abusing them selves, 20 s. 172 That there shall be no more Pawwowing amongst the In dians. And that If any shall hereafter Pawwow ... he shall pay 20 s. They desire that no Indian hereafter shall have any more but one wife. That they pay their debts to the English. That there shall not be allowance to pick Lice, as for merly, and eate them, and whosoever shall offend in this case shall pay for every louse a penny. They will weare their haire comely, as the English do, and whoseover shall offend herein shall pay 5 s. If any commit the sinne of fornication, being single persons, the man shall pay 20 s, and the woman 10 s. Whosoever shall commit adultery shall be put to death. They shall not disguise themselves in their mournings, as formerly, nor shall they keep a great noyse by howling. No Indian shall take an English mans Canooe without leave under the penaltie of 5 s. No Indian shall come into any English mans house except he first knock: and this they expect from the English. Whosoever beats his wife shall pay 20 s.49 John Eliot, in a letter to Shepard (1647), correctly targets cultural differences as the primary reason for Indian disenchantment with white society and ideals. "If they leave off Powwawing, and pray to God," he asks, "what shall they do when they are sick? for they have no skill in physick." And Eliot is perhaps unique among the early missionaries to recognize that cultural changes effected by "secular" education must precede the advent of a permanent Christian society among the Indians. "It is a very needful thing," he writes, to informe them in the use of Physick, and a most effectuall meanes to take them off from their Powwawing. Some of the wiser sort I have stirred up to get this skill; I have shewed them the anatomy of mans body, and some generall principles of Physick, which is very acceptable to them, but they are so extreamely ignorant, that these things must rather be taught by sight, sense, and experience then by precepts, and rules of art.50 In this passage, Eliot suggests that one factor which blocked successful Indian education was the aversion of Indians to abstract concepts. Educated by experience, and sharply attuned to the here- 173 and-now, the Indians were displeased and confused by the white man's religion— an ideology which enabled him to answer countless ques tions about heaven and hell but which did not always equip him to deal with crucial problems of daily existence. Shepard, for example, confessed his inability to answer "many difficult questions pro pounded by [the Indians]," questions representing real "case[s] now among them." One such case involved a man who, before hee knew God, hath had two wives, the first barren and childlesse, the second fruitfull and bearing him many sweet children . . . Which of these two wives [is he] to put away? if hee puts away the first who hath no children, then hee puts away her whom God and Religion undoubtedly binds him unto ... If hee puts away the other, then he must cast off all his children with her also as illegitimate, whom he ex ceedingly loves.51 The reluctance— or the inability— of the whites to educate the Indians on the Indians' own terms was compounded by a second problem. This was the tendency of many "educators," including even Shepard and Eliot, to use Christianity as the raison d’ etre, if not the vehicle, for teaching the Indians everything from English to medicine. One of the first primers published in an Indian language, Some Helps for the Indians Shewing Them How to improve their natural Reason (1659), was little more than a simplified Puritan catechism. It proposed to edu cate and "improve" Indian children "first by leading them to see the divine Authority of the Scriptures," and "secondly by the Scriptures [themselves,] the divine Truths necessary to eternall Salvation."52 Later primers were cast in the same mold, often the publications of British translators who, while having a knowledge of Indian dialects, had never conversed with a real Indian, much less traveled to America. The misguided practice of employing Christianity to provide Indians 174 with a secular and cultural education was a problem which persisted well into the eighteenth century. A third period in white/Indian relations began in 1675 with the onset of King Philip's War and lasted until about 1750. Writing in 1677, Increase Mather declared that "in Anno 1662, Plymouth Colony was in some danger of being involved in Trouble by the Wampanoag In dians," a danger occasioned by the death of Massasoit and the rise to power of his two sons Wamsutta and Metacomet, otherwise called Alexander and Philip. When the sickly Alexander died within a matter of months, Philip became chief. He was "no sooner styled Sachlm," writes Mather, "than there were vehement suspitions [sic] of his bloudy treachery against the English,"53 Though Philip did not lead extensive attacks on the colonists for another twelve years, rumors continuously circulated in New England that he was conspiring with the French or with neighboring Indian tribes against the British set tlers, rumors encouraged by his obvious dislike for the New England whites. During this same time, the inhabitants of the Plymouth Colony grew increasingly wary of their Indian neighbors. Some began stock piling weapons and ammunition, the more nervous among them occasion- JLly shooting off rifles in "self-defense." White encroachment on In dian lands, with defiant settlers ignoring treaties and deliberately crossing established boundaries, was obvious fuel to Indian hatred. Though well over a thousand houses were sacked and burned and nearly 3600 persons killed (only a sixth of them white),54 the hos tilities which erupted in 1775 did not, in the truest sense of the 175 word, constitute a war. Most Indian attacks were made on small groups of whites or on isolated families; most were carried out by no more than a handful of Indian warriors. The majority of white "retaliatory attacks" involved equally small numbers, though a few white sieges were made on villages of over 100 Indians. In fact, both sides lost more people to starvation and disease during the two-year struggle than to fighting. Nevertheless, King Philip's War marked a crucial turning point in white/Indian relations in colonial America, especially in New Eng land.55 For the first time, the whites and Indians showed open and mutual hostilities: the Indians made it clear that, following 1675, the breaking of land treaties by whites would be answered with blood shed; the whites no longer saw the Indians as a mild-mannered, ignor ant people in need of baptism but as a frightening, unpredictable and potentially powerful enemy. The Puritans were quick to absolve them selves of guilt in the matter, the more self-righteous among them — apparently blind to their own smug mistreatment of the Indians— going so far as to categorize Philip and his supporters as men of 'inveterate malice and wickedness," men of "cursed memory." Indeed, the inhabitants of Plymouth viewed Philip's death at the hands of one of his own men as a "remarkable testimony of divine favour to the Colony," and set aside August 17, 1676— the one-week anniversary of lis death— as "a day of solemn Thanksgiving to Almighty God."56 In 1677, one year after the end of King Philip's War, two works were published in Boston which severely condemned the Indians. Not only were the Indians berated for their role in the recent fighting 176 but for their treatment of the whites through the years, beginning with their "maliciousness" towards the founders of Plymouth Colony. These works were Increase Mather's A Relation of the Troubles which have hapned in New-England . . . From . . . 1614, to .. . 1675 and William Hubbard's A Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians in New-England, from . . . 1607, to .. . 1677, the first published works to be almost exclusively critical of the Indian. Mather says his spe cific purpose in writing was to show "the frequent Conspiracyes of the Indians to cutt [sic] off the English, and the wonder full provi dence of God, in disappointing their devices."57 The effect of the two pamphlets was to revise the historical perception of the Indian as recorded by William Bradford, Nathaniel Morton, and others, em phasizing his treachery rather than his friendship, generosity or cooperation. Squanto, for example, was portrayed as a "knave" who "sought his own ends and plaid his own Game," eventually "adherfing] to the English" only because "his own countreymen sought his life"; Massasoit was shown to be indecisive and duplicitous. And whites who were unduly friendly with the Indians were described as hypocrites and worse: Thomas Morton, for example, was condemned as a traitor to his country and God for selling arms to the Indians; the Dutch were censured for their supposed role in a conspiracy with the Indians against New England in 1653.5® And though Mather mentions in his con clusion the successful establishment of "Six Indian Churches" in the area around Boston, his central argument seems to be the ease with which the Indians were led astray by evil and conspiring whites: It is easy to observe; from the History of these Troubles, that whereas there have been two sorts of men designing set 177 tlement in this part of America, some that come hither on the account of Trade, and worldly Interests, by whom the Indians have been scandalized, others that come hither on a Religious and conscientious account, having in their Eye, the Conversion of the Heathen unto Christ,* the former have been attended with blasting ruining providences, these latter have been signally owned by the Lord Jesus; for the like that hath been rarely known in the world.59 Despite Mather's vital concern with the implications of his his tory in terms of the providence of God, it seems highly unlikely that the enormous popularity of his pamphlet— or of Hubbard's, for that matter— was due to its spiritual ideology. The publications appeared at a time when colonial indignation against Native Americans was at its height; the writings confirmed and even abetted public opinion. The fact that Hubbard and Mather were two of New England's most re spected clergymen effected the canonization of many of their sen timents regarding the Indian— to the end that, in the American psy che, the "treacherous savage" became the inseparable companion of the "noble savage." The "object lessons" for Hubbard's and Mather's positions on the Indian were provided through the personal histories that came to be known as "Indian Captivities," a second and even more important lit erary consequence of King Philip's War. Mary Rowlandson was one of several whites taken captive during the peak of the hostilities in 1676; her account of the eleven weeks she was held by the Indians, published in 1682, provided loud and convincing support for viewing :he "salvages" as the means by which God humbled and chastened his people, as one vehicle for the manifestation of his providence. What was also implied by Rowlandson and the earlier historians, however, was the rebellious, sinful and even satanic condition of the Indians. 178 Consequently, an important though almost surely inadvertant ef fect of the Hubbard/Mather histories and subsequent captivity narra tives was to excuse prejudice against and mistrust of the Indians, largely absolving the whites of responsibility for the Indians' wel fare or improvement. Mather is careful in his history to show the positive influences of Christianity— as opposed to the negative con sequences of worldliness and selfish opportunism— in the lives of the "heathen." But in the popular mind, his insistence on the "conspira- cyes of the Indians, to cutt off the English" was almost certainly linked with the descriptions of Indian atrocities appearing in sub sequent captivity narratives; and, as Charles Segal has suggested, former distinctions between "Christian" and "heathen" Indians rapidly vanished.®® In short, the literature arising from King Philip's War depicted the Native American as a spiritual and military enemy, at least partially negating the philanthropic gestures made before 1675 and significantly retarding missionary efforts after that time. Of the white/Indian tensions that built up in the years following the war, Matthew Mayhew wrote in The Conquests and Triumphs of Grace (1695): I know that many [New-England whites] who are in no measure qualified for Church Fellowship, think it no small disparage ment to themselves, that Indians should be accounted worthy of what themselves cannot be admitted to: how it is in other places I know not, but here some, whose religious pretences have gained Credit abroad, . . . have not Scrupled to Stig matize the Indians with greatest opprobry [sic]; In partic ular cases of their complaint, the Indians have been found wholly innocent, and themselves sordidly Vilanous [sic].®* Barring an occasional missionary pamphlet, New England writings which praised or glorified the Indian were virtually non-existent between 1680 and 1750. Believing the vast majority of Indian nations to have 179 cast aside God's covenant, the Puritans would now admit of only two obligations to them: 1) the introduction of Christianity to those in dividuals who demonstrated sincere interest in its precepts, and 2) the provision for suitable education of Indian children. Otherwise, the Puritans were concerned only with protecting themselves and their families from the abstract danger of untoward heathen influences and the very real threat of Indian attack. An incident which occurred in 1630 but which was not published in New England until 1696 was indeed apropos to the mood of late seven teenth-century Boston, underscoring Puritan suspicions and anxieties concerning the Indians: Upon the Twenty-fifth of this March, one of Watertown having lost a Calf, and about ten of the Clock at night, hearing the Howling of some Wolves not far off, raised many of his Neigh bours out of their Beds, that by Discharging their Muskets near about the place where he heard the Wolves, he might so put the Wolves to flight, and save his Calf: The Wind serving fit to carry the report of the Muskets to Roxbury, three miles off, at such a time; the Inhabitants there took an Alarm, Beat up their Drum, Armed themselves, and sent in Post to us to Boston, to Raise ;us also: So in the morning, the Calf being found safe, the Wolves affrighted, and our danger past, we went merrily to Breakfast.62 Between 1675 and 1750, the bulk of affirmative reports concern ing the Indian came out of Philadelphia or New Jersey or the Southern colonies rather than from New England. Most of these advocated a moral responsibility far different from that advocated by the early Puri tans: rather than preaching the necessity of Indian coversion, they advocated a secular appreciation or reverence for Indian society and behavior. Carolina; Or A Description Of the Present State of that Country, for example, was written by Thomas Ash in 1682, the same year Mrs. 180 Rowlandson's narrative appeared. Not in the least affected by the white/Indian tensions of New England, Ash openly admires the "well .imb'd and featured" Carolina natives as "excellent Hunters" and as possessors of an "exquisite Knowledge" of medicine: In the Cure of Scorbutick, Venereal and Malignant Distempers [they] are admirable: In all External Diseases they suck the part affected with many Incantations, Philtres and Charms: In amorous Intrigues they are excellent either to procure Love or hatred.63 Ash states that although the Indians are "not very forward in Dis covery of their [medical] Secrets, which by long Experience are re ligiously transmitted and conveyed in a continued Line from one Gene ration to another," they habitually show a "kind and serviceable" disposition towards the whites, "doing [them] such Civilities and good Turns as lie in their Power." Clearly implied by Ash's argument is a utilitarian basis for responsible moral treatment of the Caro- I Lina Indians: if the white nation treats them decently, it might eventually receive the benefit of the Indians' "exquisite Knowledge" of medicine and other arts.64 It is possible that Ash's optimism was in measure derived from the ratio of white settlers to Native Americans in the Carolinas. A certain R. F. reported in The Present State of Carolina (1682) that the " flourishing southern settlements" of the territory were made secure through the presence of "fourteen, or fifteen hundred resolute, and gallant fighting men." By contrast, he estimates the total number jof Indian "Bowmen" inhabiting nearly a dozen towns in the vicinity as no more than 214. Dismissing them as an "effeminate" and "broken un- cultired [sic], and unpolish'd People," the author doubts their num 181 bers will increase "because the Women dest[r]oy their Bellies with the decoction of a certain Bituminous Root, that naturally and plen tifully grows every where amongst them; which Root occasions Stiril- ity [sic]."65 But perhaps it was a growing sense of regional loyalty rather than the confidence of military superiority which caused settlers outside New England to brag of the comparatively good relations they enjoyed with local tribes. A 1682 pamphlet by John Cripps of New Jer sey, for example, purports to be an account of the dying instructions of Chief Ockanickon to his successor. However, its underlying purpose is to testify to the strength of local Indian/white relations and to assert the necessity of their continuance: My Brother's Son, This day I deliver my Heart into thy Bosom, and would have thee love that which is Good, and to keep good Company, and to refuse that which is Evil, and to avoid bad Company. . . . And if any Indians, should speak any evil of Indians or Christians, do not joyn with it, but look to that which is Good . . . . In Speeches that whall be made between the Indians and the Christians, if any thing be spoke that is evil, do not joyn with that, but joyn with that which is good . . . . I desire thee to be plain and fair with all, both In dians and Christians, as I have been.66 A similar pride in local affinities between Indians and whites is demonstrated in A Letter from William Penn P[r] oprietary and Gover- nour of Pennsylvania in America, to . . . Traders . . . residing in London 1683); this pride is underscored by Penn's confident appreciation of [ndian culture. Like many of his contemporaries, Penn believes the Indians to be "of the Jewish Race," a remnant of "the stock of the Ten jrribes," and makes correlative assumptions about their society and breeding. "I have seen as comely European-like faces among them," he writes, "as on your side the Sea; and truly an Italian Complexion 182 hath not much more of the White, and the Noses of several of them have much of the Roman." Penn continues: Their Language is lofty, yet narrow, but like the Hebrew, in Signification full, like Short-hand in writing; one word serv- eth in the place of three, and the rest are supplied by the Understanding of the Hearer . . . And I must say, that I know not a Language spoken in Europe, that hath words of more sweetness or greatness in Accent and Emphasis, than theirs. . . . Their Diet is Maze [sic] or Indian Corn, divers ways prepared; sometimes Roasted in the Ashes, sometimes beaten and Boyled with Water, which they call Homine-, they also make Cakes, not unpleasant to eat: They have likewise several sorts of Beans and Peeease that are good Nourishment; and the Woods and Rivers are their Larder. ... If an European comes to see them, or calls for Lodging at their House or Wigwam they give him the best place and first cut. If they come to visit us, they salute us with an Itah which is as much as to say, Good be to you, and set them down, which is mostly on the Ground close to their Heels, their Legs upright; may be they speak not a word more, but observe all Passages: If you give them any thing to eat or drink, well, for they will not ask; and be it little or much, if it be with Kindness, they are well pleased, else they go away sullen, but say nothing.67 Implying the intrinsic merits of Native American culture, Penn ob serves that the Indians "are the worse for the Christians, who have propagated their Vices, and yielded them Tradition for ill and not for good things." His final advice for satisfactory relations with the Indians is this: "Don't abuse them, but let them have Justice, and you win them."6® Following a rather peculiar yet remarkably detailed anthropo logical account of the Carolina Indians, including a thorough report of where they do and do not have hair,69 John Lawson in A New Voyage to Carolina (1709) argues even more strongly than Penn that the bulk of Indian problems or ills are caused by white society: We [lack] any true Balance, in Judging of these poor Heathens, because we neither give Allowance for their Natural Disposi tion, nor the Sylvan Education, and strange Customs, (uncouth 183 to us) they lie under and have ever been train'd up to; these are false Measures for Christians to take . . . : We trade with them, it's true, but to what End? Not to shew them the Steps of Vertue, and the Golden Rule, to do as we would be done by. No we have furnished them with the Vice of Drunken ness, which is the open Road to all others, and daily cheat them in every thing we sell, and esteem it a Gift of Chris tianity, not to sell to them so cheap as we do to the Chris tians, as we call our selves. Pray let me know where is there to be found one Sacred Command or Precept of our Master, that counsels us to such Behaviour? Besides, I believe it will not appear, but that all the Wars, which we have had with the Savages, were occasion'd by the unjust Dealings of the Chris tians towards them.70 And Lawson goes further than Penn or Ash in delineating the benefits of white/Indian cooperation. In an unusually liberal argument, he declares that it is "better for Christians of a mean Fortune to marry with the Civiliz'd Indians, than to suffer the Hardships of four or five years Servitude," arguing that the latter inevitably brings "sickness and Seasonings amidst a Crowd of other Afflictions, which the Tyranny of a bad Master lays upon such poor Souls." Furthermore, he states, We should be led into a better Understanding of the Indian Tongue . . . ; and the whole Body of these People would arrive to the Knowledge of our Religion and Customs, and become one People with us. By this Method also, we should have a true Knowledge of all the Indians Skill in Medicine and Surgery; they would inform us of the situation of our Rivers, Lakes, and Tracts of Land in the Lords Dominions, where by their Assistance, greater Discoveries may be made than has been hitherto found out, and by their Accompanying us in our Ex peditions, we might civilize a great many other Nations of the Savages, and daily add to our Strength in Trade, and In terest; so that we might be sufficiently enabled to conquer, or maintain our Ground, against all the Enemies to the Crown of England in America, both Christian and Savage.71 As increasing numbers of British settlers forced themselves ever more deeply into the American wilderness, they became a grave threat not only to the Indians who possessed the land but to French and 184 other European interests in the New World. Especially in outlying set tlements, the whites were often unable to defend themselves because of insufficient numbers, and positive relations with friendly Indians were of premium value. In A Letter from South Carolina (1710), Thomas Nairne brags of the strength of local militias, comprised almost ex clusively of working men. "A Planter," he writes, "who keeps his Body fit for Service, by Action and a regular Life, is doubtless a better Soldier, . . . than a Company of raw Fellows raised in England, whose Spirits and Vigour are soon pall'd by an idle, effeminate Life, in a warm Climate." But then he admits that in addition to the whites, the local militia is comprised of "a considerable Number of active, able, Negro Slaves" and an even greater number of friendly Indians. Indeed, it seems that the Indians constitute the backbone of the colonists' defence: English Officers are appointed over the Indians, with whom we are in Friendship, who are order'd, with the utmost Expedi tion, to draw them down to the Sea-coast, upon the first News of an Allarm [sic]. This is reckon'd a very considerable Part of our Strength, for there being some thousands of these, who are hardy, active, and good Marksmen, excellent at an Ambus cade, and who are brought together with little or no Charge; in all Probability, if the French or Spaniards should make any Attempt upon Carolina, they might have Reason to repent it. * The utter dependence upon friendly Indians and black slaves for pro tection in the outlying territories is made starkly evident not only through Nairne's declaration that, among the colonists, "every Male Person from 16 to 60 Years of Age" is pressed into military service, but through his discussion of the demography of the colony: of every 100 inhabitants (including men, women and children), 66 are Indians, 22 are black slaves, and only 12 are whites.73 185 As white/Indian tensions spread northward and southward from New England, writings critical of the Indians multiplied. In Hugh Jones's The Present State of Virginia (1724), for example, admiration of the Indian physique and character has been replaced with reports of their "Wardances" [sic] and "antick Gestures," their tendency to "fly to Ambush," their propensity for being "frequently at War with all their Neighbours." Colonists and potential settlers are warned that even Indian boys "rarely go out unarmed"; that all Indian males "are won derfully quick-sighted, that they will swiftly pursue by eye the Track of any Thing among the Trees, in the Leaves and Grass, as an Hound does by the Scent, where we can't perceive the least Mark or Footstep."74 In this and other publications of the first half of the eighteenth century is the sudden recognition that the "gifts and powers" of the "noble savage" might easily be turned against the whites. The romantic portrayal of the Indian, in other words, became a vehicle of terror rather than of wonder. In addition to wreaking havoc with Indian nobility, Jones de stroys any remaining notions of the efficacy of white efforts to proselyte or educate the Indians. Blaming the "debauched Lives and vile Practices" of the whites and their "examples very pernicious to Religion" for the failure of Indian Christianity, he asserts: The Missionaries that are now sent, generally keep among the English, and rarely see an Indian or when they do, know but little how to manage them; for you may as well talk Reason, Philosophy, or Divinity to a Block, as to them, unless you perfectly understand their Temper, and know how to humour them.7® And although Jones recognizes "admirable Capacities" in Indian boys who have attended white schools, together with an "excellent 186 Genius for Drawing" and the potential to do "great Good in the Ser vice of Religion," he expresses serious reservations about then- current programs for Indian education: The young Indians, procured from the tributary or for eign Nations with much Difficulty, were formerly boarded and lodged in the Town; where abundance of them used to die, either thro' Sickness, change of Provision, and way of Life; or as some will have it, often for want of proper Necessaries and due Care taken with them. Those of them that have escaped well, and been taught to read and write, have for the most Part returned to their Home, some with and some without Bap tism, where they follow their own savage Customs and heathen ish Rites. A few of them have lived as Servants among the English, or loitered and idled away their Time in Laziness and Mis chief. But 'tis great Pity that more Care is not taken about them, after they are dismissed from School. . . . [For] now they are rather taught to become worse than better by falling into the worst Practices of vile nominal Christians, which they add to their own Indian Manners and Notions.76 Jones proposes certain revisions in the procedures for educating Indian youth— such as increasing the number of years they live and work among the whites before returning to their people— but if sub sequent history is any indication, Jones's proposals were of little effect in achieving what was in the end an impossible aim: to make the Indians white. It would be another thirty years before white Americans would finally grasp this truth. The overriding aspect of Jones's writing, a sense of alienation and withdrawal, pervaded New England and the northern colonies during the 1720s. The decade was a time of questioning, of revising long- held notions of white responsibility to the Indian, of realizing the hollow futility of white efforts to assist or redeem the Native Amer ican. The comparatively weak voices of evangelists like Experience Mayhew— whose Indian Converts (1727) purported to recount the "lives 187 and dying speeches of a considerable number of . . . Christianized In dians"77— were hardly enough to dispel the doubts, fears, or anger raised by the intellectual probings of Jones and his contemporaries. Solomon Stoddard's Question whether God is not Angry (1723) was, in its intent, squarely behind the Indian evangelists. However, it raised more questions than it answered; in the end, it only under scored the difficulties of taking Christianity to the heathen. Eliza beth Hanson's God's Mercy Surmounting Man's Cruelty appeared in 1728; in its power and style it was the equal of Mary Rowlandson's account. In its inherent terrors, it was, if anything, the Rowlandson narra tive's superior, emphasizing the notion that a captive was never truly "freed," but that her life and the lives of her family would be irreparably altered by her experiences. And Joseph Frangois Lafitau's Moeurs des Sauvages Ameriquains (2 volumes, 1724) documents hundreds of aspects of Indian behavior, even those of secondary importance, analyzing each in terms of its histori cal roots, current manifestations, and moral/cultural significance. One minor issue which he briefly considers, for example, is the preva lence of strong adolescent bonding among Indian males. Contrary to anything he knows of European adolescents, he wonders repeatedly why this bonding is so unusually strong— though he hastens to assure his readers that, as far as can be determined, there is no "sin" involved, real or otherwise: Ces liaisons d'amitie, parmi les Sauvages de l'Amerique Sep- tentrionale, ne laissent aucun soupgon de vice apparent, quoi- qu'il y ait, ou au'il puisse y avoir beaucoup de vice reel. Elies sont tres-anciennes dans leur origine, es-marquees dan leur usage constant, sacrees, si je l'ose ainsi dire, dans l'union qu'elles forment, dont les noeuds sont aussi etroite- 188 ment serres que ceux du sang & de la nature, & ne peuvent etre dissons, qu'a moins que l'un d'eux s'en rendant indigne par des lachetes qua deshonoreroient son ami, l'obligeat a renon- cer a son alliance. . . . Dans . . . nos Missions, les Missionnaires ayant supprime ce sortes de liaisons, a cause des abus qu'ils en pouvoient craindre, sans dire neanmoins qu'ils agissoient par ce motif; les Sauvages n'en furent pas faches, a cause que ces amities etoient d'une trop grande depense, & que par-la mime elles devenoient trop onereuses.7® As typified by the above quotation, the significance of Lafitau's work is in part dependent on its careful detail and its incredible scope, but its literary and historical reputation derives primarily from Lafitau's analytic method. In discussing Indian customs, rit uals, habits and beliefs, he refuses to weigh them in the balance of popular romanticism or traditional knowledge, considering them in stead in terms of social psychology, science, and world religion. In so doing, he clears away century-old stereotypes and establishes en during standards for subsequent anthropological considerations of Native Americans. The publication most representative of New England conceptions of Native Americans during the 1720s was Samuel Penhallow's The His tory of the Wars of New-England, with the Eastern Indians (1726). Announcing itself as a narrative of the Indians' "continued Perfidy and Cruelty," the book begins with a savagely bitter description of Indian/French attacks on a cluster of New England towns in August, 1703; it ends with a brief erratum noting "a great omission" in the account of one of many battles the whites lost— namely, the author's failure to mention that among the dead was a "principal Indian" whose scalp procured for the badgered white survivors of the skirmish a bounty of one hundred pounds.79 189 Sandwiched between these stinging "end pieces" is a catalogue of Indian atrocities, an outraged memorial to captives as well as cas ualties— those who underwent "long Marching with heavy Burdens," who were "faint for want of Food," who were "fast[e]ned to Stakes, and burnt alive," who were kept "under a constant Martyrdom between fear of Life and terror of Death." The history records the devestation of the small settlement of Perpooduck, where 25 persons were "inhumanly butchered," among these the pregnant wife of one Michael Webber: after being "knockt on the head," her womb was "ript open, cutting one part of the Child out"— a spectacle, says Penhallow, "of horrid Barbarity." The history also preserves an account of the death of one leverend Gardiner, mistaken for an Indian and shot by one of his own men in a garrison under threat of Indian attack. It recounts a 1707 attack by thirty French Mohawks on a small band of wood cutters, the I Indians resembling "so many Furys with their naked Bodys painted like Blood" as they "violently fell upon [the whites] with such hideous tfoise and Yelling, as made the very Woods to echo." And it describes an ambush of a wedding party, the Indians killing three men, taking Leveral persons captive, and "dismount[ing] the rest": And yet they [the whites] all escaped excepting the Bride groom, who in a few days after was redeem'd by the prudent Care of his Father, at the Expence of more than three hundred pounds. Capt. Lane and Capt. Harmon mustered what Strength they could, and held a dispute with [the Indians] some time, but there was little or no Execution done on either side.8® The business of execution and retribution consumes Penhallow's interest and much of his manuscript. "In as much as the Divine Provi dence has placed me near the Seat of Action," he writes, "where I have had greater Opportunities than many others of remarking the 190 Cruelty and Perfidy of the Indian Enemy, I thought it my Duty to keep a Record thereof." And so in anticipatory defense of the "revenging audits" eventually made by the whites, Penhallow keeps a meticulous running tally of Indian perfidy and violence, storing up numbers and details in a highly emotional balance sheet. He summarizes one attack :Ln this way: As the milk white Brows of the Grave and Ancient had no re spect shown; so neither had the mournful cries of tender In fants the least pity; for [the Indians] triumph'd at their Misery, and applauded such as the skilfullest Artists, who were most dexterous in contriving the greatest Tortures; which was enough to turn the most Stoical Apathie into Streams of mournful Sympathy and Compassion.81 Nowhere in his account does Penhallow credit the Indians with the least degree of humanity or compassion. Of the few captives whose lives were spared and who eventually returned to their homes, Penhal low declares that "the Finger of God did eminently appear" in their aehalf. Convinced that God was sided with the whites, Penhallow was i smugly satisfied when, sometime during the early 1720s, the colonists finally gained the upper hand in the Indian conflict. Indeed, Penhal- low's history could be described as a document of white revenge on Indian savagery, with the perfidies of the living "messengers of iell" who invaded and destroyed the communities, homes and families of the Children of God standing as justification for the raging white violence which soon followed. He carefully notes, for example, the casualties of a skirmish which took place only months before his account was published: only fifteen whites were killed, he says, while Indian casualties totaled "seventy in the whole, whereof forty were said to be kill'd upon the 191 spot." And he proudly includes an anecdote concerning one Benjamin Daniel, who the Indians "shot thro' the Bowels." Crying as he fell that he was a dead man, Daniel "yet recoverfed] himself a little [and] added, 'Let me kill one before I dye!' but he had not strength io fire."®^ jt is obvious, if Penhallow's history accurately repre sents Mew England sentiment, that the former joys of witnessing In dian conversion had been replaced by the grim pleasures of extracting Indian retribution. Colonists outside New England, however, were often quick to re ease the Indians from primary blame for the region's troubles, some times charging the Puritans with full responsibility. James Grady, in A Description of the famous new Colony of Georgia, in South Carolina (1734) depicted the American Indian as having been driven by "a manly aspect" and an intense pride to revenge white treacheries he could in good conscience no longer endure: [Indians] can never forget injuries, hence sprung the mis chiefs so often done by them to the people of New-England, who in their course of traffick commonly took advantage of their passion for liquor, bargain'd with them in their drunken- [n]ess and ever since cheated them, or in time of peace drew them into ambushes, surrounded and murdered or made pris oners of them, and so contrary to all manner of faith, sold them to the Islands, and yet faithless Indian is become pro verbial amongst these modern saints, which brings me to re flect on the old maxim, That the conquer'd are always deemed the rebels.83 Three years later in Georgia, similar arguments were proposed by an anonymous "honourable person"— the author of A Curious Account of GEORGIA (1737)— who insisted that what the whites might term "the Passion of Revenge," the Indians would "call Honour.i" Indeed, he says, "they have no executive Power of Justice amongst them," and so "they are forced to kill the Man who has injured them, in order to prevent others from doing the like." Of course, settlers in Georgia and the Carolinas were frequently guilty of the same crimes against the Indians for which they condemned the Puritans. But outside New England, there was comparatively little Indian violence to prick the collective conscience; and so the Southern colonists hypocritically scrutinized Northerners, smugly pinpointing flaws in the policy gov- Lrning Puritan/Indian relations. With a kind of selective objec tivity, Southern writers probed reasons for Indian anger, for the Native American's scorning of white culture and his clear repudiation of New England Christianity. Many became convinced that white/Indian tensions derived from the willful ignorance or blindness of whites and not, as the Puritans claimed, from inherent defects in the Indian character. And so the author of A Curious Account implies that if whites were to admit the Indian's capacity to "hear Reason," they would discover his potential for being "weaned a good deal" from "Drunkenness and Revenge," the two "greatest Obstacles to [his be coming] truly Christian"— to his becoming peaceable and tractable in his relations with the whites.84 Because Native Americans remained relatively friendly with white settlers in southern Virginia, the Carolinas, and Georgia, hopes of Indian conversion persisted throughout much of the South; such hopes became a symbolic gauge of the health of Indian/white loyalties. At times, the optimistic rhetoric was almost absurdly reminiscent of writings of the early Puritans; one author, for instance, envisions 193 "a Door opened [in] our Colony, towards the Conversion of the In dians?'-. I have had many Conversations with their chief Men, the whole Tenour of which shews that there is nothing wanting to their Conversion, but one who understands their Language well, to explain to them the Mysteries of Religion; for as to the moral Part of Christianity they understand it and do assent to it. They abhor Adultery, and do not approve of a Plurality of Wives. Theft is a Thing not know among the Creek Indians . . . [and] Murder they look on as a most abominable Crime.85 Yet "the Door of Conversion" closed much more quickly in the Southern colonies than it had done in New England. In fact, at the same time the just-quoted writer was predicting the establishment of a New Eden, John Wesley was embarking on his mission among the Geor gia Indians, discovering firsthand their lack of readiness for Chris tian conversion. Initially, Wesley wrote of "tall, well-proportion'd Men, [with] a remarkable Softness in their Speech, and Gentleness in their whole Behaviour," of joining with groups of twenty and more "in Morning Prayer" and other devotionals, of his hopes for increased proselyting opportunities and additional success.86 But two years of frustration and disappointment drastically changed Wesley's perspec tive, so that by early 1738 he could paint only a bitter and pessi mistic portrait of the Indians he had come to America to convert: Of the Georgian Indians in general it may be observed, That they are . . . Gluttons, Drunkards, Thieves, Dissemblers, Liars. They are Implacable, Unmerciful; Murders of Fathers, Murderers of Mothers, Murderers of their own Children: It being a common Thing for a Son to shoot his Father or Mother, because they are old and past Labour; and for a Woman either to procure Abortion, or to throw her Child into the next River, because she will go with her Husband to the War. In deed Husbands, strictly speaking, they have none; for any Man leaves his Wife (so call'd) at Pleaure; who frequently, in Return, cuts the Throats of all the Children she has had by him. Whoredom they account no Crime, and few Instances appear of a young Indian woman's refusing any one. Nor have they any 194 fixt Punishment for Adultery; only if the Husband take his Wife with another Man, he will do what he can to both, unless speedily pacified by the Present of a Gun or a Blanket.87 By April, 1738, Wesley openly declared his work among the In dians to be a failure and immediately returned to Britain. These are the words that close his journal: It is now two Years and almost four Months, since I left my Native Country, in order to teach the Georgian Indians, the Nature of Christianity, but what have I learn’ d myself in the mean time? Why (what I the least of all suspected) That I who went to America to convert others, was never myself converted to GOD. I am not mad, tho' I thus speak; but I speak the Words of Truth and Soberness, if haply some of those who still dream may awake, and see, that as I am, so are they. Are they read in Philosophy? So was I. In Antient or Modern Tongues?? So was I also. Are they versed in the Science of Divinity? I too have studied it many Years. Can they talk fluently upon Spiritual Things? The very same could I do . . . Do they give of their Labour as well as of their Substancd? I have labour'd more abundantly than they All. Are they willing to suffer for their Brethren? I have thrown up my Friends, Reputation, Ease, Country; I have put my Life in my Hands, wandering into strange Lands; I have given my Body to be de vour'd by the Deep, parched up with Heat, consumed by Toil and Weariness, or whatsoever GOD should please to bring upon me. But does all this (be it more or less, it matters not) make me acceptable to God? . . . This then have I learn'd in the Ends of the Earth, That I am fallen short of the Glory of GOD; that my whole Heart is altogether corrupt and abominable, and consequently my whole Though individuals and groups persisted in their efforts to "bring the heathen to a Christian understanding," to use a cliche of the times, Wesley's eloquent pessimism— though not necessarily his admission of personal responsibility— was increasingly indicative of American/British sentiments on the issue of Indian conversion. Even such unfailingly cheerful souls as the British minister George White- field admitted the existence of a cultural and spiritual gulf sepa rating the Indians from the whites. Regarding a conversation with a 195 young brave about the youth's belief in heaven and hell, Whitefield tiredly observed: "We may easily gather how natural it is to all Man kind to believe there is a Place of Happiness, because they wish it may be so, and on the contrary, how averse they are to believe a Place of Torment, because they wish it may not be so." Then, with the pre dictably stubborn logic of his race and times, Whitefield concluded: "But GOD is true and just, and as surely as the Good shall go into everlasting Happiness, so the Wicked shall go into everlasting Punish ment."89 And the Scottish minister David Brainerd, perhaps the most pa tient and sensitive of all who worked among the Indians during the :.700s, American or European, was rather pointed in his notice of "the Defectiveness of [the Indian] language," the Indians' "rooted Aver sion to Christianity," and the fact that they seemed "brutishly stupid and ignorant of divine things."90 He complained further: Their inconvenient Situations, Savage Manners, and unhappy Method of living, have been an unspeakable Difficulty and Discouragement to me in my Work. They generally live in the Wilderness, and some that I have visited, at great Distances from the English Settlements, which has obliged me to travel much, and oftentimes over hid eous Rocks, Mountains and Swamps— frequently to lie out in the open Woods— depriv'd me of the common Comforts of Life, and greatly impair'd my Health.91 Indeed, most optimistic treatises on Indian conversion, including the rather laughable "how-to manuals" such as The Knowledge and Prac tice of Christianity Made Easy To the Meanest Capacities: Or, An Essay Towards An Instruction for the Indians (1741), were published in 3ritain and not America— were written, in fact, by individuals who iad never been in America, much less been among the American natives. 1 9 6 And where the hopes and desires of various British Christian societies were not borne out by actual missionary success, fiction was created. The most insteresting example is James Walcot's The New Pilgrim's Pro gress; Or, the Pious Indian Convert (1748), which purports to be the record of one Hattain Gelashmin, telling how he was brought from China to the New World to become a missionary to the Indians. Actually, the bulk of Walcot's narrative is a tedious account of his own experiences in Jamaica and the Carolinas; the mysterious "Gelashmin" does not even appear until page 229. And even after Gelashmin is introduced and 'has embarked on his mission, the point is not his experience with Native Americans— which comprises less than eight pages— but his subsequent reception of a "vision" that reads like a comic-book ver sion of John Bunyan.92 Perhaps because of the weakening of Puritan influences and the growing spirit of American rationalism during the mid- and late 1700s, the perception of white responsiblity to the Indian rapidly shifted from conversion towards more humanistic ends: education, eco nomic/political reforms, peaceable coexistence. This is not to say that great advancements in Indian education occurred between 1750 and 1800; the realization that the most successful teaching occurred when secular instruction was given priority over and separated from religious proselyting would not come for another sixty years. However, for whites who were tenacious and optimistic enough to imagine an eventual payoff for their moral exertions, education was the key to all other improvement and regeneration. John Sergeant, for example, believed that "the Education of our Indian Children," appro 197 priately conducted, would "in the most effectual Manner, change their whole Habit of thinking and acting; and raise them, as far as pos sible, into the Condition of a civil, industrious and polish'd Peo ple." Declaring that to those who "are in any Measure acquainted with the Disposition and State of the Indians in America" it is "well known, that Vertue and Piety make but a slow Progress among them in jfche Methods that have hitherto been used," Sergeant argues that the children must be separated from their families and brought up in white society; he further demands that schoolmasters "introduce the English Language among them instead of their own imperfect and bar barous Dialect."93 Sergeant makes certain his readers understand that his position is not founded solely on theoretical notions but on his immediate ex perience as a teacher of Indian boys, experience which began in 1734 when he was granted permission by the chief of the River Indians to tutor the chief's nine-year-old son and eight-year-old nephew in his home. The two boys accordingly went with Sergeant to New Haven where, for nearly a year, he privately instructed them in reading, writing, mathematics and religion. Despite his concern for proper education of the males, Sergeant warns (through a cloud of eighteenth-century chauvinism) that educa tional programs must not be directed exclusively towards Indian boys: There cannot be a Propagation of Religion among any People without an equal Regard to both Sexes; not only because Fe males are alike precious Souls, form'd for GOD and Religion as much as the Males; but also because the Care for the Souls of Children in Families, and more especially in those of low Degree, lies chiefly upon the Mothers for the first seven or eight Years. 198 Sergeant promises that "if PROVIDENCE encourage and succeed this De sign, and a Fund sufficient to carry it on, can be procured," I purpose to enlarge the Foundation, so as to take in Girls, as well as Boys, to be educated in a Manner suitable to the Condition of their Sex; for I think the Cultivation of both the Sexes has a natural Tendency to improve each other more easily and successfully.95 Sergeant's specific proposal is that a group of "Indian Boys, junder the Care of a faithful Master, who [w]ould labor with and in- jspect them," should be required to "cultivate the 200 acres of Land ppon which they live[d]" within or near to a white community, and that they raise "all Sorts of Provisions," including "a Stock of Cat tle, Sheep, Hogs." The Indian girls, on the other hand, would be "employ'd in Manufacturing the Wool, Flax, Milk, &c. that should be rais'd" on the farm; they would be "under the Care of a faithful Mis tress, who should instruct them in all Sorts of Business suitable to their Sex." After a time, says Sergeant, the experimental community would be able "in great Measure, if not wholly," to support itself; the students "would be form'd to Industry, acquainted with the Eng lish Language and Manners, and be fit, at about 20 Years of Age, to set up upon Farms of their own."96 William Smith's heavyhanded fable, Indian Songs of Peace, with a Proposal, in a prefatory Epistle, for erecting Indian Schools (1754), echoes many of Sergeant's arguments, implying that what was success ful in Massachusetts might be used to equal advantage in New York. Recommending the construction of "at least one good School for [In dian] Education," with "the fittest Persons" responsible for "the Care and Charge of it," Smith declares: "What Pity is it, that [the 199 Indian] Genius should be sunk or depraved, which if it was reliev'd and rightly cultivated, might shine out to them, and to us, with Ad vantage and with Honour." But as is typical of many self-styled "Indian educators," Smith admits that he is not "well acquainted with the present Disposition of Affairs in those Parts"; indeed, that he is uncertain whether "there is already an [Indian] School" in New York. If in fact a school for Indian boys currently exists, Smith recommends that a (second be "set up at a convenient Distance" as a "School of Girls," since "much would depend on the Improving and Refining that Sex, to reclaim and civilize the other."97 Smith's "Indian Songs" are directed towards "the principal La dies of the province and City of New-York?’ ; his hope is that they will act as benefactors to young Indian girls, who— unlike Indian boys— have little access to the financial and emotional encouragement of various philanthropic organizations: The Indian Virgins, 0 Ladies, cast themselves at your Feet, humbly desiring your Protection and Patronage. Think to what it is that you are call'd upon: To be as pure Living-Springs, that water a dry sandy Desart [sic]; as a bright Light to illuminate dark Regions; as a divine Voice sounding in the Forest, to raise the sweetest Consort. You are called upon to be the Praise of future Ages, as well as of the present; to have the Blessings of Nations on you and the Blessings of Heaven.98 But not all whites concerned with Indian education were as roman tically optimistic as William Smith. Eleazar Wheelock, for example, a pastor in Lebanon, Connecticut, points to the "savage and sordid Practices" which the Indians are "inured to from their Mother's Womb" and argues that "there is no such thing as sending English Mission 200 aries, or setting up and maintaining English Schools to any good Pur pose, in most Places among them, as their Temper, State and Condition have been and still are." He insists that the only hope of success lies in separating Indian boys from their parents, enrolling them in special schools, and admitting an equal number of "promising English Youth of pregnant Parts" trained according to "the best Principles." Under such a system, he says, should "one half of the Indian Boys . . . prove good and useful Men, there will be no Reason to regret our Toil and Expence for the whole."99 Whites had been slow to discover the powerful influence of edu cation on the social and cultural condition of the Indians; but once the awareness came, white educators soon learned that the rather ex treme measures advocated by Sergeant, Smith, and others were disrup tive to cultural and familial relationships and obligations, often producing less favorable results than those achieved through more moderate programs. David Brainerd, for instance, tells of an Indian school established not among the whites, as Sergeant and others would have wanted it, but within a settlement of Philadelphia Indians— a school which nevertheless enjoyed unprecedented success: The Children learn with surprising Readiness; so that their Master tells me, he never had an English School that learn'd, in general, comparably so fast. There were not above two in Thirty, altho' some of them were very small, but what learn'd to know all the Letters in the Alphabet distinctly, within three Days after his Entrance upon his Business; and divers in that space of Time learn'd to spell considerably: And some of them, since the Beginning of February last (at which Time the School was set up) [a period of a few months] have learn'd so much, that they are able to read in a Psalter or Testament without spelling.100 201 According to Brainerd, the entire tribe was "desirous of In struction, and surprisingly apt in the Reception of it," so that the white schoolmaster generally had "Thirty or Thirty-five Children in his School"; and when he "kept an Evening School (as he did while the length of the Evenings would admit of it) he had Fifteen or Twenty People, married and single."101 Though Indian conversion remained a white humanitarian concern well into the nineteenth century, it was less and less frequently the product of direct proselytizing. Education provided one means of subtly indoctrinating Indian children; sometimes commercial and po litical relationships provided similar opportunities for influencing adults. Indian education and the establishment of commercial/politi cal bonds, then, became the perceived moral responsibilities of the mid-eighteenth century; when practically and efficiently executed, they produced the desired side-effects of Christian conversion and the promulgation of white culture. While the success of educational programs among the Indians is, in a number of early cases, rather well documented, accurately track ing the rate of early Indian baptisms and the strength of Indian con verts is often impossible. As Segal and Stineback make clear in their discussion of Puritan efforts to "christianize" the Indians, con verted natives were usually absorbed into the white community, while the disaffected only moved more deeply into the wilderness, sometimes aligning themselves with other tribes.102 Charting the progress of Indian missionary programs seems to have been nearly as difficult for early humanitarians as it is for modern historians. And so education 202 — with its utilitarian and highly visible rewards— overshadowed and then supplanted proselyting as the whites' central moral concern. One final observation should be made about perceived moral re sponsibility towards the Indians during the 1740s. Prior to this time, virtually all treatments of Native American culture were bur dened with editorial commentary: postscripts, moralizing, justifica tions, condemnations. Beginning about 1740, however, some writings about Indians gave accurate cultural descriptions priority over mor alizing. In fact, accounts such as John Brickell's The Natural History of North-Carolina (1737) are marked by an almost complete absence of moral judgments. Strongly influenced by John Lawson's A New Voyage to Carolina (1709) and primarily concerned with the history and geogra phy of the colony, Brickell's work nevertheless includes a long and mostly original discussion of indigenous Indian tribes, a discussion characterized by objectivity, humor, and a genuine interest in the anthropological detail it transcribes. In one section of his book, for example, Brickell examines "the Question of a Man desiring a Bed fellow": If [the girl's parents] comply with the Man's desire, then a particular Bed is provided for them [the Man and girl] either in a Cabin by themselves, or else all the young People turn out to another Lodging, that they might not spoil sport bet wixt these Lovers, and if the old People are in the same Cabin along with them all Night, they lye as unconcern'd as if they were so many statues or logs of Wood, . . . that the Man may have the Satisfaction of his new purchase, which pleasure is sometimes bought at too dear [a] rate. . . . [At other times] he comes to none but the Girl who receives what present she thinks fit to ask, and [then] lyes with him all Night without the knowledge or previous consent of her Par ents or Relations. This familiarity so kindles lust, that the young Men will likewise go in the Night time from one House 203 to another to visit the young Women, after which rambling manner they frequently spend the whole Night. In their ad dress they find no delays, for if she is willing to entertain the Man, she gives him encouragement, and grants him admit tance. . . . Neither doth it displease the Parents, that their Daughters are thus acquainted, knowing by these Means that they can command the young Men to help them in any Work or Business they have occasion to use them in.103 There is no extensive commentary affixed to this description; much of Brickell's work is governed by a similar calm and matter-of- fact approach. In its depiction of amoral sexuality, a work such as The Natural History of North-Carolina paralleled the titillating, written-to-sell captivity narratives discussed in the first chapter, narratives which began appearing at roughly the time of Brickell's manuscript. The emotions which gripped the American colonies between 1750 and 1800— political and social fervor, intense rationalism, individ ualism, occasional romantic euphoria— were also the governing sensi tivities in interracial affinities during this period. And no other event points up more clearly the manner in which these varying forces were brought to bear on white/Indian relationships than the so-called Paxton Rebellion of 1763—1764, an apparently minor historical inci dent with profound political and cultural consequences. The incident was named for the settlement of Paxton in frontier territory west of Philadelphia. The bulk of the Pennsylvania frontier was inhabited by Scotch-Irish Presbyterians, poor immigrants who differed signifi cantly in temperment, religion and social status from the wealthy Quakers who controlled Pennsylvania government and society. Denied equal representation in the colonial legislature, repeatedly refused 204 militia protection or government redress for losses of life and prop erty occasioned by Indian attacks, and generally ignored in all their complaints, the frontier inhabitants eventually determined that they would be responsible for their own protection and prepared to retali ate against a small Indian colony which was friendly with the Quakers and said to be the source of many of the attacks on the Presbyterians. What happened next has been summarized by John Dunbar, historian and editor of The Paxton Papers (1957), in this way: On December 14, 1763, a band of . . . Presbyterians rode into Conestoga Manor, near the town of Paxton on the frontier of Pennsylvania, and murdered six Indians who were living under the protection of the Quaker controlled colonial government. Two weeks later the Paxton Boys, as they were called, des cended on the Lancaster work house and killed the remaining fourteen Conestoga Indians who had been housed there for safety. Early in February about two hundred of the fron tiersmen, armed, marched on Philadelphia. The Philadelphians, fearful and angry, promptly organized militia companies and prepared to defend the city. In an effort to prevent blood shed the colonial authorities sent Franklin and others to negotiate with the Paxton Boys. The negotiators were success ful; they promised that, if the Paxtonians would write a statement of their grievances and return home, the governor and assembly would give serious consideration to the redress of those grievances. This the Paxton Boys did. Thereupon, having gotten rid of the rebels, the governor and assembly let the matter drop. This was the Paxton Rebellion.104 Though as many as three-fourths of all American colonists sided with the Presbyterians,105 those who lined up behind the Quakers found themselves behind such prominent figures as Franklin as well— a circumstance which hints at the complexities of the issue. For although the uprising clearly symbolized the ongoing strug gles between established colonial cities and the frontier, between tradesmen and farmers, it was also one of America's first "lynch- ings," an unprecedented instance of mob rule. And while many could 205 sympathize with the oppressed Paxtonians, few could deny the appar ently senseless brutality of their slaughter: of the twenty Indians killed, Franklin tells us in A Narrative of the Late Massacres (1764), all but five were women, children and old people.106 None of these Conestoga Indians had ever been implicated— except by hearsay — in any raids or attacks made on the inhabitants of the frontier; following the massacre, the Paxtonians were unable to provide any proof of their guilt. And although Dunbar doesn't say so, it seems that all along the sole intention of the Paxton troops had been to assert themselves against the Pennsylvania government. Protected and nurtured as they were by the Quaker heirarchy, the Conestogas were merely a convenient target for such an assertion. Few e v e n ts o f th e seco n d h a lf o f th e e ig h te e n th c en tu ry — with jthe o b v io u s e x c e p tio n s o f th e R evolu tion and th e r a tific a tio n o f th e C o n stitu tio n — garn ered a s much lit e r a r y a tte n tio n a t th e Paxton in c i dent. At l e a s t 63 contem porary docum ents exam ined th e r e b e llio n ; of th e se , 28 d e a lt w ith i t p rim arily or e x c lu s iv e ly. 107 In t h is la t t e r category w ere b ro a d sid e b a lla d s, dram atic p ie c e s , s a t ir e s , and e s s a y s , m ost o f which to o k c le a r p o s itio n s fo r or a g a in s t th e r e b e l lio n , though a few rem ained e s s e n t ia lly n e u tr a l. An exam in ation o f jthese docum ents n o t o n ly r e v e a ls th e dom inant in tr a s e c tio n a l po l i t i c a l and s o c ia l r iv a lr ie s w ith in th e w h ite community du rin g th e 1760s, but p r o v id e s a foresh ad ow in g o f th e w h ite/In d ia n p o lic ie s L v en tu a lly adop ted by th e new n a tio n and fo llo w ed u n til w ell in to th e n in e te e n th cen tu ry. 206 If, from among the many "Paxton documents" published in 1764, two pamphlets were selected to represent the opposing sides in the case— the positions of the Philadelphians and the frontiersmen— they almost certainly would be, respectively, Benjamin Franklin's A Narrative of the Late Massacres, in Lancaster County and Matthew Smith and James Gibson's A Declaration and Remonstrance Of the distressed and bleed ing Frontier Inhabitants. Franklin's account was published almost im mediately following the Paxtonians' raid on the Lancaster workhouse; the paper by Smith and Gibson was the "statement of grievances" ap proved by the frontiersmen for submission to the Governor of Pennsylvania in anticipation of redress.108 Although Franklin's narrative was highly critical of the Pax tonians' actions in Lancaster, it was not an overtly political docu ment. That it was, however, the first major account of the incident, that it was articulate and moving, and that its author was Franklin made it a logical standard for the pro-Quakers to rally behind; these same attributes made it an irresistible target for Presbyterian chal lenges and rebuttals. Although Franklin's arguments are based solidly in rationalism, his tone is at times unbearably sentimental: the In dians are described by such adjectives as "poor," "little," "old," "defenceless," "harmless," "innocent," and "betrayed"; the Paxtonians are "riotous and violent butchers," "unhappy Perpetrators," "unmanly Men," and "Christian White Savages"; the deed itself is "a Massacre," "a Desolation," an "atrocious Fact," a "Mischief and Disgrace," a "horrid wickedness." Working from the assumption that Christians, "from the superior Light [they] enjoy, ought to exceed Heathens . . . 207 and Indians, in the Knowledge and Practice of what is right,"100 Franklin argues in the body of his essay for absolute fidelity to the terms of all white/Indian treaties and contracts. The specific contract to which Franklin has reference is the "Treaty of Friendship" drawn up between the Conestoga tribe and Wil liam Penn "on the first Arrival of the English in Pennsylvania," an agreement that "was to last 'as long as the Sun should shine, or the Waters run in the Rivers."' This treaty, notes Franklin, was "fre quently renewed, . . . never [having] been violated, on their Part or ours, till now."110 For Franklin, the breaking of the treaty was a heinous offense; indeed, it is difficult to discern whether it or the massacre itself was the greater crime in his eyes. "There are some (I am ashamed to hear it)," says Franklin, "who would extenuate the enormous Wickedness of these Actions, by saying, 'the Inhabitants of the Frontiers are exasperated with the Murder of their Relations, by the Enemy Indians, in the Present War."' This reasoning provides no mitigation, he argues, for though it "might justify their going out into the Woods, to seek for those Enemies, and avenge upon them those Murders; it can never justify their turn ing in to the Heart of the Country, to murder their Friends": If an Indian injures me, does it follow that I may re venge that Injury on all Indians? . . . The only Crime of these poor Wretches seems to have been, that they had a red dish brown Skin, and black Hair; and some People of that Sort, it seems, had murdered some of our Relations. If it be right to kill Men of such a Reason, then, should any Man, with a freckled Face and red Hair, kill a Wife or Child of mine, it would be right for me to revenge it, by killing all the freckled red-haired Men, Women and Children, I could afterwards any where meet with. But . . . these People think they have a better Justi fication; nothing less than the Word of God. With the Scrip 208 tures in their Hands and Mouths, they can set at nought that express Command, Thou shalt do no Murder; and justify their Wickedness, by the Command given Joshua to destroy the Hea then. Horrid Perversion of Scripture and of Religion! . . . Even the Jews, to whom that . . . Commission was directed, spared the GJ.beonJ.tes, on Account of their Faith once f ill g iv e n. 111 Franklin recounts a variety of anecdotes to illustrate his con tention that even the "heathens"— Africans, Turks, Jews— believed the responsibilities of the host were sacred; even the "infidels"— the Papists— perfectly honored "Pledges of Faith" and "Promises of Pro tection." Among his tales is the old legend of the Moor who vowed to harbor a young Spaniard guilty of accidental murder; even after learning from friends that the murdered man was his own son, the Moor kept his word to help the Spaniard escape. In providing a connection between such anecdotes and his immediate topic, Franklin declares; These poor People [the Conestoga Indians] have been al ways our Friends. Their Fathers received ours, when Strangers here, with Kindness and Hospitality. Behold the Return we have made them!— When we grew numerous and powerful, they put themselves under our ProtectJon. See, in the mangled Corpses of the last Remains of the Tribe, how effectually we have afforded it to them!-- Unhappy People! to have lived in such Times, and by such Neighbours!— We have seen that they would have been safer among the ancient Heathens, with whom the Rites of Hospital ity were sacred.— ... In short, . . . they would have been safe in any Part of the known World,— except in the Neigh bourhood of the CHRISTIAN WHITE SAVAGES of Peckstang and DonegaJS. Franklin's concluding warning to the Paxtonians is an affirma tion of government and order, a curt rejoinder against vigilante be havior or frontier law. And as a caution simultaneously directed towards the confederation of American colonies and the inhabitants of the Pennsylvania wilderness, it expressly links order with strength, mob rule with cowardice and weakness: 209 Unmanly Men! who are not ashamed to come with Weapons against the Unarmed, to use the Sword against Women, and the Bayonet against young Children; and who have already given such bloody Proofs of their Inhumanity and Cruelty.— Let us rouze [sic] ourselves, for Shame, and redeem the Honour of our Province from the Contempt of its Neighbours; let all good Men join heartily and unanimously in Support of the Laws, and in strengthening the Hands of Government; that JUS TICE may be done, the Wicked punished, and the Innocent pro tected; otherwise we can, as a People, expect no Blessing from heaven, there will be no Security for our Persons or Properties; Anarchy and Confusion will prevail over all, and Violence, without Judgment, dispose of every Thing. . . . — I shall conclude with observing, that Cowards can handle Arms, can strike where they are sure to meet with no Return, can and will, mangle and murder; but it belongs to brave Men to spare, and to protect; for, as the Poet says, — Mercy still sways the Brave.113 As was previously mentioned, Franklin's pamphlet avoids being overtly political: it shuns the terms "Quaker" and "Presbyterian"; it skirts the issues and tensions associated with the rivalry between the Philadelphia government and the frontier. It pretends instead to be concerned only with Indian rights, with fidelity to interracial agreements. Nevertheless, in its insistence on order and conserva tism, it clearly implies an uncompromising support of the existing government and a condemnation of the frontier inhabitants— who are painted as lawless and bloodthirsty rebels. It was emphasized in the first chapter that captivity narra tives became politicized as the eighteenth century progressed, that they were used to sway public opinion against the Spanish, the Brit ish, or the Indians themselves, depending on the direction of politi cal winds. Franklin's pamphlet is the first significant instance of the politicizing of sociological writings about Native Americans. Un doubtedly, Franklin was bitterly disturbed by the annihilation of the Conestoga tribe and was writing out of a desire to somehow rectify 210 the tragedy. At the same time, however, he was almost certainly act ing to shore up support for the Pennsylvania government, to protect his own very real interests within his community. And so his narra tive neatly juggles fact and sentiment, sermon and anecdote, subtlety and brashness, specificity and vagueness, eluding the event's in herent contradictions and complexities so skillfully that his Read er's Digest prose simultaneously eulogized the murdered Conestogas, bred public support for the government that failed in its efforts to protect them, and cast the blame for both crimes onto the beleaguered inhabitants of the Pennsylvania frontier. As noted earlier, Smith's and Gibson's A Declaration and Remon strance constituted the formal statement of grievances submitted by the Paxtonians and other frontiersmen to Governor John Penn on 13 February 1764. Published about a month after Franklin's pamphlet, the Smith/Gibson paper was certainly its equal in terms of sentimental, highly emotive language— and nearly as polished in its style. It is one of only a comparatively small number of early American documents to be entirely negative in its references to Indians, though much of its negativism is politically motivated. While Smith and Gibson did not necessarily consider all Indians to be open adversaries, they believed all had the potential of becoming "the worst of Enemies"; and hence no one tribe was to be trusted.*** Further, they were con vinced that the interests of the Presbyterian settlers in the western territories of Pennsylvania were often neglected or even sacrificed in favor of the Indians— the very Indians, they believed, who were murdering their families and destroying their property. 211 Of the Conestoga Indians, Smith and Gibson declared that "these Indians [were] known to be firmly connected in Friendship with our openly avowed embittered Enemies," and that some "have, by several Oaths, been proved to be Murderers." Refusing to so much as apologize for the massacre, the authors insisted that the Conestogas were "cap able of doing us Mischief," yet "we saw with Indignation [their being] cherished and caressed [by the Quakers] as dearest Friends." Complaining that "former Treaties, the exhorbitant Presents, and great Servility therein paid to Indians, have long been oppressive Grievances we have groaned under," Smith and Gibson argued their cen tral case in these words: At the last Indian Treaty held at Lancaster, not only was the Blood of our many murdered Brethren tamely covered, but our poor unhappy captivated Friends abandoned to Slavery among the Savages, by concluding a Friendship with the In dians, and allowing them a plenteous Trade of all kinds of Commodities, without those [captives] being restored. . . . Not only so, but the Hands that were closely shut, . . . have been liberally opened, and the publick Money lavishly prostituted to hire, at an exhorbitant Rate, a mercenary Guard, to protect his Majesty's worst of Enemies, those falsely pretended Indian Friends, while at the same Time hun dreds of poor distressed Families of his Majesty's Subjects, obliged to abandon their Possessions, and flee for their Lives ... in the most distressing Circumstances, were left to starve neglected, save what the friendly Hand of private Donations has contribued to their Support; wherein they, who are most profuse towards the Savages, have carefully avoided having any part.115 Heading the nine-item list of grievances submitted by Smith and Gibson to Governor Penn is the absence of equal rights and represen tation in the Pennsylvania government: We apprehend, that as Free-Men and English Subjects, we have an indisputable Title to the same Privileges and Immunities with his Majesty's other Subjects, who reside in the interior Counties of Philadelphia, Chester and Bucks, and therefore 212 ought not to be excluded from an equal Share with them in the very important Privilege of Legislation.116 The other eight grievances were: 1) the passage of a bill in the Pennsylvania House of Assembly facilitating the transfer of persons charged in the Lancaster massacre from the county where the crime was committed to Philadelphia, Chester or Bucks County; 2) the main tenance of Indians at public expense when settlers on the frontier desperately needed food and money; 3) the harboring of any Indians under any terms whatsoever, especially during time of war; 4) the lack of hospital care for wounded frontiersmen; 5) the discontinuance of bounties for Indian scalps; 6) the lack of government intervention in securing the release of Indian captives, especially those taken from the frontier; 7) the activities of an unspecified Quaker society said to be furnishing the Indians with arms and other supplies; and, finally, 8) the continued operation of Fort Augusta at public expense when it "has afforded [the frontier] but little assistance, during this or the last War."1*^ It is significant that five of the nine complaints are directly concerned with Quaker/Indian relationships; indeed, the "Lancaster Affair" marks the first major instance of a white American constituency complaining that their rights have been subjugated by a so-called minority group— that their condition has been made worse than that of individuals traditionally recognized as economically, culturally or politically inferior. What is even more significant, perhaps, is that the Indians' condition is not explored by the Smith/Gibson paper or the Franklin narrative so much as it is utilized by them. Neither work portrays the Conestoga tribe as a real entity, but as a symbol or metaphor— a 213 standard by which cultural values and political ideals may be meas ured. In Franklin's case the "Lancaster Massacres" represent the fruits of the imperfect culture and rugged law of the frontier, the victims of impetuosity, selfishness, and barbarity. For Smith and Gibson, on the other hand, the tribe becomes a visible symbol of a biased and tyrannical government which gives only to its friends, values commerce over the welfare of its constituents, and provides relief or protection only when convenient. In this sense, the Cones toga Indians are the subject of neither pamphlet; certainly neither provides a historically accurate view of their lives or their deaths. Several tracts supportive of the Paxtonians were written in di rect response to Franklin's pamphlet. The most important of these, Thomas Barton's The Conduct of the Paxton-Men, Impartially Repre sented (1764), wryly observes in its opening pages that "the PAXTON- RIOT (as it is called) makes so great a Noise, and is so much the general Topick, that a Man must be but little in Converstion, with out having his Opinion ask'd concerning this Affair."118 Barton ad mits that, because he "abhor[s] and disclaim[s] every Act and Species of Cruelty," he "solemnly . . . disapprove!s] of the Manner of kill ing the Indians in LancasterIt was, he says with some irony, "a Kind of Insult to the Civil Magistrates, and an Encroachment upon the peace and Quiet of that Town." He wishes the women and children had been spared, but he has "no doubt the Actors in that Affair, thought . . . that the best Way was, while their hands were in, to kill all, 'lest out of the SERPENT'S EGG, there should come a COCKA TRICE.'"119 214 Barton attacks Franklin's tone as well as the accuracy of his record. "The Names of RIOTERS, REBELS, MURDERERS, WHITE SAVAGES, &c. , " he says, "have been liberally and indiscriminately bestowed." But all this they [the Paxton Boys] look upon only as the Effects of disappointed Malice, and the Resentment of a de structive FACTION, who see their darling Power in Danger. — The Merciful and the Good however, they trust, will rather pity than condemn them. And they are pleased with the Thoughts that they have been able at last to lay bare the PHARASAICAL BOSOM of QUAKERISM, by oblinging the NON-RESIST ING QUALITY to take up Arms, and to become Proselytes to the first great Law of Nature. . . . I would be glad to know who could give this Gentleman so very particular an Account. ... I have been told . . . that [his] Story was pick'd up from among a parcel of old Papers in a Hop-Garden or a Hemp-field (I forget which). . . . For who could possibly tell what pass'd, or how these Indians behaved in the short Interval between their being attacked and all killed, which is said not to have been above Two Min utes: ... No one had any Kind of Intercourse with them, nor even saw them during that Time, except those that killed them.120 As with Smith and Gibson, the Indian in Barton's account becomes the standard by which the dismal condition of the frontiersman is best measured. Matching Franklin's melodrama and adjective count, Barton asserts that a comparison of the two groups explains why "the unhappy Frontier People were really mad with Ragd': Shall Heathens, shall Traytors, shall Rebels and Murderers be protected, cloathed and fed? Shall they be invited from House to House, and riot at Feasts and Entertainments? . . . Shall they be supported in Ease and Indolence, and provided with Physicians and Medicines whenever they complain?— and shall the free-born Subjects of Britain, the brave and industrious Sons of Pennsylvania, be left naked and defenceless— aban don'd to Misery and Want— to beg their Bread from the cold Hand of Charity— and for want of Medicine or Relief . . . , to linger out a miserable Life, and perish at last under the Wounds received perhaps from these very Villains? My Soul rises with Indignation at the Thought!— 121 The anonymous tract A Dialogue between Andrew Trueman and Thomas Zealot {1764) imagines a discussion between two Presbyterians, 215 although it was probably written by a Philadelphia Quaker. In answer to Thomas Zealot's declaration that he has been out "fechting [fight ing] the Lord's Battles, and killing the Indians at Lancaster and Cannestogoe," Andrew Trueman responds: I am afraid all this is wrong. . . . Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace, and has taught us the Doctrine of forgiving our Enemies .... Many Things were permitted to the Jews because of the Hardness of their Hearts, which the Light of the Gospel has discovered to be wrong. But even the Jews paid the greatest Regard to their treaties. And these Indians by Treaties have been acknowledged to be our Friends.122 The Paxtoniade (1764), an anonymous satire published by John Morris, laughs at both the Quakers and the Presbyterians. In his less-than-serious introduction to the work, Morris takes an obvious jab at the "anecdotal method" of Franklin's narrative: Courteous, and, impartial, unprejudiced, dispassionate and disinterested Reader, IF you be In a Cue for tasting Nonsence [sic], as I think well you are, from the plentiful quantity you have lately swallowed: I do by these PRESENTS, furnish you with a com petent Dose of it, not to be equalled in Quality by any Thing that has been spued from the Mouth of any Turk, Jew, or In fidel this last Century.123 Later, however, the author of the poem itself— supposedly a Pax- tonian— is referred to as "THE BREY F ASS," and the text of the poem is headed by this explanation: "NONSENSE, spew'd forth, from the ASS's Mouth."124 A similarly ambivalent viewpoint is exhibited by the anonymous dramatic farce, The Paxton Boys (1764). Light in tone, though not exceptionally witty, the brief play is set in Philadelphia just prior to the Paxtonians' march on the city. The first third of the play introduces the central political tensions of the Paxton Incident. The remainder sets up encounters between individuals and groups wherein 216 the merits of the Quaker and Presbyterian positions are argued: two Presbyterians meet and discuss their feelings; they are joined by a Quaker and an argument ensues; the Quaker is offended, leaves, and encounters a second Quaker with whom he shares his views; the Pres byterians reappear and their is a final confrontation and argument as the alarm bells signal the approach of the Paxtonians. It seems the author's sympathies lie, in part, with both camps. The Presbyterians, for example, are portrayed as determined, courag eous and even spiritual men, driven to rebel as a last resort. Speak ing of his commitment to the cause against the Pennsylvania govern ment, one declares: Agreeable to my Forefathers Oliverian Spirit, I would freely Sacrifice my Life and Fortune for this Cause, rather than those Mis[cre]ants of the Establish'd Church of England, or those Re[be]ls, the Q[uaker]s, whould continue longer at the head of Government, it vexes me to the Soul to see those hea thens [sic] Enemies openly protected by them, against the Law of Nature, the Law of Reason, and the Law of God. 25 The other Presbyterian answers: "What we cant do by force, we must do by Policy, and you know Olivers Schemes took Effect; more through Policy, and Cunning than Force, we must keep on our Guard, or we shall be in the Sudds."126 But in response to criticisms regarding his refusal to bear arms, one of the Quakers seems equally "noble" when he declares: My Disenting [sic] does not proceed form any dislike to the King, or the Government, but from a Religious scruple of Con science in bearing Arms. ... I have never done it yet against the common Enemy, but when there is real necessity as there appears to be now, thou shalt be convinc'd that I will carry Arms and fight too.1^ And as the alarm sounds, the Quaker bombastically proclaims: "'Tis Time to Arm, and do thou attack me if thou dares, and thou shalt find 217 that I have Courage and Strength sufficient to trample thee under my Feet."128 Despite a lack of polish, The Paxton Boys is a rather tightly constructed dramatic piece. Its thesis seems to be that, in confronta tions of the will which refuse to be governed by communication or compromise, there are only two possible outcomes— farce or tragedy. According to the author of this drama, the Paxton Incident was, in terms of white losses, a farce. But given the religious fervor of each side— the conviction of each that God backed them in their struggles— the outcome could have as easily been tragic. As the author concludes: "Should they [the Paxtonians] attempt, or be mad enough to come down again, it's probable I may change the FARCE into a TRAGEY-COMEDY [sic]."129 The Paxton Boys is a farce only because it ignores the role of the Conestoga tribe in the conflict; the drama says virtually nothing about Indian/white relations. Indeed, it is one of only a handful of documents to show the situation as it almost certainly was: a strug gle between the city and the frontier, with the Conestoga tribe serv ing as little more than a catalyst. Dunbar suggests that the Paxton Incident and the resolutions it occasioned comprised "a primary statement in the war for rights and representation which burgeoned into the Revolution."130 In terms of Indian/white relations, it had at least three additional effects. First, it graphically demonstrated that white footholds in America had grown sufficiently strong that the immigrants could— and would— overpower or even destroy Indians who got in their way. Though the 218 Conestogas were no longer a large tribe, having dwindled to a mere twenty souls, it must have been shocking (or inspiring, depending on personal sensibilities) to realize that white warfare, combined with the more subtle and slow-acting weapons of white civilization and white disease, had resulted in the extinction of a people. Second, the Paxton Incident was perhaps the last time in early American history when the needs or desires of a large body of white settlers were subjugated to those of the Indians. Having once lashed out in destructive fury against the Native American, perhaps there was no turning back. After 1783, one of the first concerns of the newly-organized government of the United States was to control the Indians— often under the ruse of protecting them— and to expand and secure the frontier. Finally, the written debate over the incident makes it clear that, whether or not the Indian had ever spoken for himself among the whites, he spoke for himself no longer. In the twenty-odd pamphlets dealing extensively with the killing of the Conestogas, Indian "re sponse is limited to brief, sporadic quotations. Even outside the contexts of the Paxton conflict, as the works of Cadwallader Colden and L. H. Morgan suggest, Indian oratory was transcribed only sporadically. The most famous Indian oration of the late 1700s— the speech of Chief Logan of the Mingo tribe to the gov ernor of Pennsylvania in 1774— was barely one paragraph long: I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat: if ever he came cold and naked, and he cloathed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 219 "Logan is the friend of white men." I had even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, mur dered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it: I have killed many: I have fully glutted my ven geance: for my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan?— Not one.131 Endlessly anthologized, the speech was usually accompanied by extensive explications for white audiences, explications dozens of times longer than the speech itself.132 Perhaps it shared with the literary aftermath of the Paxton Incident at least one crucial ele ment of popularity: it reinforced popular notions of the Indian as wild and barbaric yet self-reliant and lonely; more importantly, it clearly implied white superiority, the ability of the white to domi nate, overpower and control the Indian. Logan's speech, the Paxton papers, and other similar documents foreshadowed the future depend ence of Native Americans on white culture for protection and susten ance. In effect, these writings released white Americans from moral obligations to treat Indians as equals; from this point, whites be came the Native Americans' caretakers and guardians. Certainly it can be argued that, lacking writings of the Indians themselves, the American literary historian should be grateful for the handful of pamphlets and books written about Native Americans by rela tively sensitive and articulate white authors like Franklin, Anthony Benezet, Noah Webster and Samuel Hopkins. Their purpose in correct ing white misconceptions of Indians and Indian culture was, first, to 220 eliminate obvious inequities then present in American society, and second, to prevent the persecution, ostracism and neglect almost surely to result from continued intolerance for or patronage of the Indian. This is not to say that sensitive liberal writers of the late 1700s were unmotivated by utilitarian concerns. As shown by the dis cussion which opened this chapter, humanitarians such as Benezet fre quently appealed to American rationalism, to an affinity for the use ful and practical, in reaching their social ends. Writing a genera tion earlier than Benezet, Samuel Hopkins had established utilitarian appeal as a legitimate tool of the racial egalitarians in An Address to the People of New-England, Representing the very great Importance of attaching the Indians to their Interest (1753). In this essay, he discussed the advantages of endeavoring, "by all proper Means and Methods," to establish a loyal unity with the Indians: I freely grant, that the Indians, simply considered, are not of such great Consequence to us. We can subsist without them. But yet, their Trade is a ocnsiderable Article, worthy the Care of any politick People, and managed as it might, and ought to be, would yield us great Profit. But if we consider them with Relation to Peace and War, as attached to us, or to our Enemies, they are of the last Importance to us; for they certainly have the Ballance [sic] of Power in their Hands, and are able to turn it for or against us, according as they stand affected to us. . . . Our Circumstances are such, that we cannot guard ourselves against the Incursions of such Ene mies in Time of War; for our Frontiers are of vast Extent, and border upon the adjacent Wilderness; which, tho1 almost inaccessible to us, yet it is the very Element in which they delight to live. They are at Home in it.-*33 Hopkins proposed specific guidelines for convincing the Indians that "we are truly their Friends, and that it is their Interest to be ours." These guidelines became the basis for many subsequent recom 221 mendations for sound white/Indian relations, most notably those of Benezet and Rush: In the first Place, treat them [the Indians] according to the Rules of Equity and Justice. We must not defraud and oppress them, but be honest and just in our Dealings with them. ... I am fully persuaded, that if we were upright and just in all our Transactions with them; . . . and if they were supplied with all Necessaries for themselves and Families at a moderate Price, it would not be in the Power of all the French at Canada (subtle as they are) to alienate them from us. . . . In order to obtain the End proposed, our Trade with the Indians must not be in private Hands . . . [but] of a publick Nature, and must be committed to the Care and Management of faithful Men. ... We should also exercise that Kindness and Generosity towards them, that shall convince them that it is for their Interest to be in Friendship with us. We should not . . . con tent ourselves with being barely just in our Treatment of them, but we should also be kind and generous. . . . Another Step, and perhaps the most promising one we can take, to engage the Indians in Friendship with us is, to send Missionaries . . . , Ministers and Schoolmasters, to instruct them.134 In the spirit of humanitarian fairness and mutual benefit, an increasing number of white/Indian "conferences" and "peace talks" were conducted after 1755. The records of one such meeting held in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, during the spring of 1757 show that the whites were mastering the idiom of the Indian. George Croghan, Deputy Agent to the Indians, welcomed the leaders of nine Indian tribes in these words: Brethren, With this Belt of Wampum I wipe the Blood off the Seats round your Council Fire, that your old Men at this critical Juncture, when convened in Council, may sit with Comfort, and direct their Warriors with Wisdom. Gave a Belt. Brethren, as I have wiped the Blood off the Seats round your Council Fire, I, with these Shrouds, wrap up the Bodies of your deceased Friends, and bury them decently, covering their Graves with these Blankets and Halfthicks. Gave the Goods. Brethren, As the Blood is wiped off the Seats of your Counsellors, the Dead decently buried, and their Graves cov 222 ered, I, with this Belt of Wampum, wipe the Tears from vour Eyes, and desire you may mourn no more. Gave a Belt.13 But as the conference was concluded later that summer in Easton, 'Pennsylvania, it became clear that learning the Indian’ s idiom had brought the whites no closer to his heart— that, in fact, they had attempted to "buy him off," as they had in the past, with rhetoric and cheap trinkets. In his closing remarks to the Indians, Governor William Denny declared, "It gives me great Pleasure that we have brought the important Business we met about to so happy an Issue." To which Chief Teedyuscung, speaking for all the tribes, responded: You have not so much as given us a rusty Iron to defend our selves. If we meet an Enemy on the Road, what are we to do? We cannot defend ourselves against him. We have nothing to do with it. Our young Warriors think as much of themselves, and their Lives are as dear to them as white People's. But you have not given them any Encouragement to go against the Enemy. Can this be right? You know you have not. Consider this well, Brother.136 Correctly anticipating the outcome of the conference before it was concluded, the Friendly Association for Regaining and Preserving Peace with the Indians by Pacific Measures petitioned Governor Denny, reaffirming their stand taken when the former governor had declared war on the Delawares and Shawnees in the wake of the Paxton Incident: That every Measure which had been pursued and whatever re main'd possible to be done, to prevent so lamentable an Ex tremity [war with the Indians], might be strictly and impar tially reviewed and considered; that full enquiry might be made, whether some Apprehensions these Indians had conceived of a Deviation from the Integrity of Conduct towards them . . . might not unhappily have contributed in some Degree to the Alteration of their conduct towards us.137 Despite the Paxton Incident, Philadelphia was recognized through the end of the century as the national conscience on Indian affairs; its position on white/Indian relations is the standard by which one 223 must judge the proliferation of white/Indian treaties between 1760 and 1800. The moral and social ills deriving from the almost universal failure of these early treaties are made all the more intolerable and inexcusable by the repeated warnings of the Philadelphia Quakers: that the Indians be regarded with the whites as equal subjects or citizens; that "rather than the Lives of our Fellow Subjects [white or Indian] should be sacrificed [and] their Properties destroy'd," mea sures be taken to satisfy "just Claims of the Indians" or to other wise "pacify" them.138 In terms of social morality, "satisfying just claims of the In dian" was concerned with more than the honoring of treaties or the making of restitution for dishonest trading. In the minds of sensi tive humanitarians, it was inseparably tied to a reshaping of the national consciousness. Indeed, many believed that until the majority of whites were able to discern the abundant errors in their tradi tional views of Native Americans, no treaty would be successful in establishing a lasting peace. Writing in 1784, Anthony Benezet condemned representations of the Indian as being naturally inclined to wildness and treachery; he insisted that such representations were based on isolated instances and "particular transaction[s] . . . on special occasions," observing that no conclusion of their [the Indians'] original character should be drawn from instances in which they have been pro voked, to a degree of fury and vengeance, by unjust and cruel treatment from European Aggressors; of which most histories of the first settlements on this continent furnish instances, and which writers have endeavoured to colour and vindicate, by reprobating the character of those poor people.133 224 Benezet declares that, historically, the whites had been even more prone to violent and barbaric behavior than the Indians them selves; in support of this assertion, he refers to the recent de struction (in April, 1782) of three Pennsylvania settlements of Mora vian Indians, settlements comprised of well over 200 men, women and children. In a grim and bloody replay of the Paxton Incident, bands of angry white frontiersmen, acting on the apparently unfounded rumor that the Moravians’ intention was "to fall upon the back inhabitants," rode into each of the three settlements in turn, initially feigning friendship and then, assured of the Indians' defenselessness, slaugh tering all inhabitants. "We cry out against Indian cruelty," says Benezet, but is any thing which the Indians have done, (all circum stances considered) more inconsistent with justice, reason, and humanity, than the murder of those Moravian Indians; a peaceable, innocent people, whose conduct, even when under the scalping-knife, evidenced a dependance on Divine Help for support, . . . much becoming [to] Christians .... In vindication of this barbarous transaction, endeavours have been used to make us believe, that the whole race of In dians are a people prone to every vice, and destitute of every virtue; and without a capacity for improvement. What is this but blasphemously to arraign the wisdom of our Creator, and insinuate, that the existence He has given them is incom patible with his moral government of the world. . . . [There are] many striking instances of [the] pro bity, gratitude and beneficence [of the Moravians], on rec ord, at a time when the disparity of their numbers was so great, that they might have easily destroyed the settlers, had they been so minded. But so far were they from molesting them, that they were rather as nursing fathers to them; grant ing them ample room for settlements; freely assisting them with the means of living, at easy rates; manifesting, thro' a long course of years, a strict care and fidelity in observing their treaties, and fulfilling their other engagements.140 "The apparent difference between us and them," concludes Benezet with telling irony, "is chiefly owing to our different ways of life, and 225 different ideas of what is necessary and desirable, and the advantage of education, which puts it in our power to gloss over our own con duct, however evil; and to set theirs, however defensible, in the most odious point of light."141 Benjamin Franklin's concise and graceful essay on Indian civil ity, Remarks Concerning the Savages of North-America (1784), begins with this observation: "Savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we think the perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs." An impartial analysis of any nation, he continues, would show that there are "no people so rude as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite as not to have some remains of rudeness." For Franklin, the politeness of Native Americans was their greatest strength. He admires their custom, for example, of not "answer[ing] a public proposition the same day that it is made" in order to "shew it respect by taking time to consider it," believing that to make a hasty decision would be to treat the original proposal "as a light matter." And he is almost in awe of the rules of polite order governing an Indian council, rules drastically different from those governing "civilized" communication: He that would speak, rises. The rest observe a profound si lence. When he has finished, and sits down, they leave him five or six minutes to recollect, that if he has omitted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to add, he may rise again, and deliver it. To interrupt another, even in common conversation, is reckoned highly indecent. How dif ferent this is from the conduct of a polite British House of Commons, where scarce a day passes without some confusion, that makes the speaker hoarse in calling to order, and how different from the mode of conversation in many polite com panies of Europe, where, if you do not deliver your sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the middle of it by the impatient loquacity of those you converse with, and never suffered to finish it.142 226 Franklin refers to an offer made by the Government of Virginia during the mid-1700s to educate the young boys of the Six Nations; with apparent relish, he records the courteous refusal of the chief speaking for the various tribes. "We thank you heartily," the chief says, "but we have had some experience of it": Several of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the Northern Provinces; . . . but when they came back to us, they were bad runners; ignorant of every means of living in the woods; unable to bear either cold or hunger; knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill an enemy; spoke our language imperfectly; were therefore neither fit for hunters, warriors, or counsellors; they were totally good for nothing. We are however not the less obliged by your kind offer . . . : And to show our grateful sense of it, if the Gentlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them.*43 Franklin admits that the Indians' politeness is sometimes "car ried to excess, since it does not permit them to contradict, or deny the truth of what is asserted in their presence." He correctly as signs the failure of Indian proselytizing to this very courteousness, stating that the Native Americans' desire to "avoid disputes" makes it "difficult to know their minds." Indeed, they "hear with patience the Truths of the Gospel explained to them," giving their "usual to kens of assent and approbation" so that one would think they were fully persuaded and ready to accept baptism. "No such matter," de clares Franklin. "It is mere civility."144 But the most significant manifestation of Indian civility is, says Franklin, their hospitality. He writes that when visitors appear in an Indian camp, messengers go "from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that strangers are arrived, who are probably hungry and weary"; immediately food is brought and "skins to repose on" sent: 227 When the strangers are refreshed, pipes and tobacco are brought; and then, but not before, conversation begins, with enquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, &c. and it usually ends with offers of service; if the strangers have occasion of guides, or any necessaries for continuing their journey; and nothing is exacted for the entertainment.145 Native American graciousness is contrasted with the hospitality shown a certain Indian who had gone into Albany hoping to get a fair price for his beaver skins. Returning to his tribe, he made this report: If I go into a white man's house at Albany, and ask for vic tuals and drink, they say, where is your money; and if I have none, they say, get out, you Indian Dog. You see they have not yet learned those little good things, that we need no meetings to be instructed in, because our mothers taught them to us when we were children; and therefore it is impossible their [religious] meetings should be, as they say, for any such purpose [to hear and learn good things], or have any such effect; they are only to contrive the cheating of In dians in the price of Bea ver.146 Of course, Franklin's essay is not merely concerned with social courtesy. It becomes an indictment of white treatment of Native Amer icans during the first 150 years of colonial history, where Indian generosity and acquiescence was often met with white indifference and disdain; where the simple and rational morality of the Indian was distorted or even destroyed by the religious hypocrisy of white so ciety; where the "European guests" imperiously trampled their host and his possessions in their scramble for land, wealth and security. Noah Webster's On the Morality of Savage Nations (1788) takes a similar position on white ethics, suggesting that civilization has not significantly altered man's character or the quality of his exis tence. "Morality," says Webster, "consists in discharging the social duties of life." And to the extent that "the state of savages re quires an intercourse of duties," he argues, " the moral principles 228 seem to be as perfect in them as in more enlightened nations."147 Responding to a quotation from Lord Kaimes— "The principles of mo rality are little understood among savages, and if they arrive to maturity among enlightened nations, it is by slow degrees"— Webster declares, "I would advance another position equally true, 'that the principles of eating and drinking are little understood by savages, and if they arrive to maturity among civilized nations, it is by slow degrees."148 Pointing to the simplicity of the Indian lifestyle and the ab sence of serious ethical problems in Indian society, Webster suggests that cultural complexity may actually create moral quagmires: Savages in a perfectly rude state have little or no commerce; the transactions between man and man are confined to very few objects, and consequently the laws which regulate their in tercourse and distribute justice, must be few and simple. It is a fact, supported by unquestionable testimony, that the savage nations on the frontiers of these States, have fewer vices in proportion to their virtues, than are to be found in the best regulated civilized societies with which we are ac quainted.148 Webster is quick to emphasize that the Indians do not disavow the existence of vice or lack the means to punish it, but rather that "the crime of murder is as severely punished by the savages, as by civilized nations." With obvious irony, he writes that a "planter in the West Indies" is far more likely to murder his slave with impunity than an Indian is to take a life during peacetime. "As to war," on the other hand, "every nation of savages has its arbitrary customs, and so has every civilized nation": Savages are generally partial and capricious in the treatment of their prisoners; some they treat with a singular humanity; and others they put to death with the severest cruelty. Well, do not civilized people the same? Did a savage ever endure 229 greater torments, than thousands of prisoners during the late [Revolutionary] war? But not to mention the practice of a single nation, at a single period; let us advert to a general rule among civilized nations; that it is lawful to put to death prisoners taken in a garrison by storm. The practice grounded on this rule, is as direct and as enormous a viola tion of the laws of morality, as the slow deliberate tortures exercised by the most barbarous savages on earth.150 In the end, however, Webster's essay is not so much a defense of Indian culture or a charge of white hypocrisy as it is a plea to both nations that they become more aware of their similarities. Webster suggests that as whites admit the weaknesses they share with Indians, the races will begin to perceive common strengths and aspirations. Not all influential Americans writing during the late 1700s were so quick to defend the Indian as Webster, Benezet or Franklin. Ben jamin Rush, for example, apparently held deep-seated biases against Native Americans— even though he was an otherwise just and reason able man and a strong supporter of the abolition movement. About 1788, he wrote a curious essay entitled An Account of the Vices Pe culiar to the Indians of North America. Observing in his introduction that "it has become fashionable of late years for the philosophers of Europe to celebrate the virtues of the savages of America," Rush states that his purpose is not to deny these reports, but to "add an account of some of their vices, in order to complete their natural history."151 Specifically, Rush criticizes the Indians' uncleanness, "nasti ness" ("exemplified in their food— drinks— dress— persons— and above all, in their total disregard to decency in the time— place — and manner of their natural evacuations"), drunkenness, gluttony, 230 treachery, cruelty, idleness, and their tendency to steal and gam ble. "But the infamy of the Indian character," he declares, "is completed by the low rank to which they degrade their women": It is well known that their women perform all their work. They not only prepare their victuals, but plant, hoe and ga ther their corn and roots. They are seldom admitted to their feasts, or share in their conversation. The men oblige them to lie at their feet, when they sleep without fire; and at their backs when they sleep before a fire. They afford them no assistance in the toils of tending, feeding, and carrying their children. They are even insensible of the dangers to which their women are often exposed in travelling with them. A gentleman from Northumberland county, informed me, that he once saw a body of Indian men and women wading across the river Susguehannah. The men arrived first on the opposite shore, and pursued their journey along the river. The women, some of whom had children on their backs, upon coming to a deep and rapid current, suddenly cried out for help, and made signs to their husbands and fathers to come to their assis tance. The men stood for a few minutes— and after atten tively surveying their distress, bursted out a laughing, and then with a merry indifference, walked from them along the shore.152 According to Rush, his essay was motivated by a desire to pro tect religion and culture. Admitting his uncertainty as to "the de sign" of those who praised the Indian— whether "to expose Christian ity, and depreciate the advantages of civilization, I know not," he writes— he insists that "they have evidently had those effects upon the minds of weak people."153 Regardless of his motives, one fact is unarguable: his essay had replaced the romantic stereotypes of the "noble savage" with older, crueller stereotypes which played on pre existing white convictions and fears. An Account of the Vices, in other words, insists that the Native American is barbaric, sottish, lazy and criminal. And such a portrait clearly demonstrates the prin ciple emphasized earlier in this discussion: that even among the most intelligent and sensitive American writers of the late eighteenth 231 century, inconsistent egalitarianism and prejudice were very much alive. Immediately before and following the outbreak of the Revolution ary War, the chiefs of major Indian tribes were approached separately by representatives of the American and British forces. The British, as James O'Donnell explains, feared that any Indian raids on American settlements "might drive undecided colonials into the Patriot camp," and so the warriors were requested to "stand ready, delaying any ac tion until [British] troops could cooperate with them." The Colo nists, on the other hand, "preached a message of friendly neutral ity," believing that Indian interference could damage Colonial defen sive strategies, muddy the central issues of the conflict, and call into question its eventual outcome. Not surprisingly, many tribes ultimately sided with the British forces, according them the better chance of victory. Others attempted to capitalize on the turmoil ac companying the Revolution, stepping up their attacks on the loosely guarded frontier. These latter tribes were met with angry retalia tion, were slaughtered or driven into the American wilderness; the colonists perceived the former tribes as being one with the British enemy, battling them and the British troops with the same grim de termination. Wrote Thomas Jefferson in 1776 following the defeat of bands of Cherokees who had beleaguered the southern colonies earlier in the year: I hope that the Cherokees will now be driven beyond the Mis sissippi, and that this in the future will be declared to the Indians the invariable consequence of their beginning a war. 232 Our contest with Britain is too serious and too great to per mit any possibility of avocation from the Indians.155 For all practical purposes, the Revolutionary War marked the "last stand" of the Indians against the whites of Colonial America. Certainly the Indians maintained viable positions in the Southern states until their spirits and hopes were broken at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend in the mid-1800s. But the tribes of the Northeastern colonies had been destroyed or had moved further into the wilderness by the turn of the century; the wise observer discerned in the his tory of the Indian in New England an unmistakeable presage of what would happen elsewhere along the Eastern coast. And although it is possible that by siding with the Colonists or by maintaining a strict neutrality even the New England tribes might have remained autonomous into the nineteenth century, historians have argued that "the two cultures were incompatible, and that of the Indian, being the weaker, had eventually to succomb."155 Following the Revolution, and especially following the formal recognition of American independence in 1783, Americans had to deal with the shock of sudden inheritance— the possession of a land that, in some respects, they had only managed and tended, a land that had been controlled by British interests and Indian humors. And the re sult of the American victory was an effectual and simultaneous de struction of both masters. The tribes which had in any way abetted the British camp were— as just mentioned— indistinguishable from the defeated enemy; and because many whites believed that the Indians had attacked them "out of the baseness of their nature" rather than "for 233 reasons of self-defense," the Indians were, if anything, scorned more than the British themselves. 15^ In the wake of the Revolution, then, the Indians were viewed by many Americans as a conquered people— even though a number of tribes remained a viable threat along stretches of the western frontier. Various "Indian causes" once again became "safe" responsibilities in white society; perceived obligations to educate or convert Native Americans were often fulfilled out of pity or a vague, nagging guilt. Thus, while many white readers shuddered at cunning Indian exploits depicted in ever more improbable captivity narratives, sighed at nos talgic recollections of an irrecoverable era portrayed in such publi cations as the reprint of Daniel Gookin's Historical Collections of the Indians of New England (1792), or shivered at the wild romanti cism of Brockden Brown's Edgar Huntly (1799), the newly formed gov ernment was already assuming its role as "protector" of the Native American, shaping its chronically hypocritical policy of "guaran teeing and preserving" Indian rights— where Indian rights were guar anteed only so long as they did not interfere with the privileges, aims or demands of white society. As James O'Donnell has said, The general theme that the Indian was an utter villain would continue to distort historical accounts and to inform In dian/White relations [long after the Revolution]. A policy of Indian displacement persisted from [the nation's] beginnings in early colonial times through the . . . Revolution and did not cease in the nineteenth century . . . despite the slaugh ter ... at Wounded Knee.158 It would be over a century before such revisionist historians as Hale Sipe lamented the "great wrongs and horrible atrocities which the anointed children of civilization and education— children of the 234 God of Revelation— committed upon the untutored children of the forest."159 When viewed from the perspective of his relationship to white society, the American Indian has had a more complex and no less tragic history than the American black. Between 1600 and 1800 he was, by turns, a scientific or anthropological curiosity, a remnant of Israel's Lost Tribes, a heathen and barbarian, a friend, a repentant and spiritually acceptable Christian convert, a liar and thief, a sly and ruthless enemy, a member of a defeated and vanished race. By turns he was feared, admired, courted, betrayed, hated, scorned, ig nored. "Oppression," said Tocqueville, "has been no less fatal to the Indian than to the Negro race": When the North American Indians had lost the sentiment of attachment to their country; when their families were dis persed, their traditions obscured, and the chain of their recollections broken,- when all their habits were changed, and their wants increased beyond measure, European tyranny ren dered them more disorderly and less civilized than they were before. The moral and physical condition of these tribes con tinually grew worse, and they become more barbarous as they become more wretched.160 Perceived moral responsiblities to the Indian shifted with white society's changing conceptions of his abilities and character. The Puritans were concerned about living in peace with local tribes, treating them justly and behaving as exemplary neighbors. They felt an obligation to teach and proselytize the Indian, but because he was not a recognized heir of God's covenant, efforts to baptize and edu cate him were secondary, often-neglected priorities. Elsewhere in the colonies, attempts to establish political or social liaisons with the natives were frustrated by cultural and lin 235 guistic differences. The first crude attempts to understand Indian society were based on strained comparisons with European culture; and when it became clear to the whites that references to Indian "king doms," "kings," and "princesses" were gross misnomers, whites made the even greater mistake of assuming that the Indians had no civili zation at all. Some whites believed that as the natives observed the "superiority" of white culture, they would adopt it as their own; lip service was paid to the possiblity of a "mass conversion" of all In dians and the subsequent establishment of an advanced and unified society. In practice, however, the superficially legitimate programs for converting or educating the natives were often little more than poorly disguised means to commercial and political ends. But the words of many of the writers quoted in this chapter re flect high purposes and valid moral responsibilities. By the early 1640s, Thomas Morton, Paul le Jeune, Thomas Lechford, John Eliot, and other relatively careful historians were writing openly appreciative accounts of the Indians and their culture, preserving invaluable glimpses of a people and society, clearly implying: "This is worth knowing. These records are worth preserving." The perception of value in the traditions, skills, lifestyles and government of the Indians was tantamount to admitting Indian in telligence and humanity. And Indian intelligence and humanity are dominant themes of virtually all historians who wrote between 1680 and 1740 and who also examined the Native American with any degree of closeness. These early eighteenth-century publications led naturally to the conclusion reached by at least a handful of writers during the 236 late 1700s— including Benezet, Franklin and Webster— that the Indian should be accorded equality with American whites. However faintly these voices were heard by their contemporaries, they exerted profound influence on some of the best minds of the nineteenth century, shaping law and social reforms, providing themes and images for the writings of Cooper, Longfellow and Whittier, per haps affecting Emerson's arguments concerning freedom, individuality and nature. And these early voices continue to be relevant, pointing up truths that we today must confront and re-learn in attempting to bring to fruition the aims of the early humanitarians: understanding and appreciating the Native American, granting him full equality in the land that in some respects still belongs to him. 237 Notes 1. [Anthony Benezet], Some Observations on the Situation, Dis position, and Character of the Indian Natives of this Continent. . . . (Philadelphia: Joseph Crukshank, 1784), p. 7. The quotation from John Smith is from his Advertisements For the unexperienced Planters of New-England, or any where. Or, The Path-way to experience to erect a Plantation. . . . (London: John Haviland, 1631), p. 1. 2. See Benjamin Franklin, Autobiography, edited by J.A. Leo Lamay and P.M. Zall (Norton: New York, 1986), p. 68; see also Noah Webster, A Collection of Essays and Fugitiv [sic] Writings . . . (Bos ton: Thomas & Andrews, 1790), pp. 22-23. 3. Benezet, Some Observations, pp. iii—iv. 4. Benezet, Some Observations, pp. 8, 10, 12, 40. 5. The quotation on Indians and alcohol is from Benezet, Some Observations, p. 10; the epithets come from the same source, pp. iii, 8, and 9. 6. Jonathan Edwards, The Injustice and Impolicy of the Slave- Trade, and of the Slavery of the Africans: Illustrated in a Sermon Preached . . . September 15, 1791. . . . (Providence: John Carter, 1792), pp. 25, 31, 32. 7. Edwards, The Injustice and Impolicy, p. 11. 8. Edwards, The Injustice and the Impolicy, pp. 36—37. 9. [John of Doesborowe], Of the newe landes and of ye people founde by the messengers of the kynge of portugale named Emanuel. Of the x. [ten] dyvers nacyons crystened. . . . ([London]: John of Does borowe, [ca. 1520]), p. [10]. 10. John Nicholl, AN Houre Glasse of Indian Newes. OR A true and tragicall discourse, shewing the most lamentable miseries, and dis tressed Calamities indured by 67 Englishmen . . . (London: Printed for Nathaniell Butter, 1607), p. 5. Nicholl's pamphlet is a rather tightly and skillfully written account of treachery, slaughter, and escape. It is one of the earliest forerunners of the Indian captivi ties published later in America, and seems the basis of British no tions concerning the "salvages" of the South Seas as well as of North America. 11. Dionyse Settle, A true reporte of the laste voyage into the West and Northwest regions, &c. 1577, worthily atchieved by Capteine Frobisher . . . With a description of the people there inhabiting, and other circumstances notable .... (London: Henrie Middleton, 238 and other circumstances notable. . . . (London: Henrie Middleton, 1577), pp. 26-27. 12. Settle, pp. 35, 36, 42. 13. Thomas Har[r]iot, A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia . . . (London: n.p., 1588), p. [36]. His discussion of Indian religion is on pp. [36]-[39]. It should be noted that many of the earliest essayists altogether denied the existence of an indiginous Indian religion, took no pains to discover its tenets, or dismissed it as ridiculous or diabolical. See, for example. Settle, p. [42]; John Smith, A True Relation of such occurrences and acci dents of noate as hath hapned in Virginia since the first planting of that Collony . . . (London: Printed for John Tappe, 1608), pp. [v] and [17], wherein he laments the Indians' "Paganisme, Idolatrie, and su perstition” and describes their "religion and Cereraonie" in terms of revulsion and horror; Edward Winslow, Good Newes from New-England . . . (London: Printed by J.D., 1624), pp. 55-57, wherein Winslow im plies that the Indians of New-England are devil worshippers; Thomas Morton, New English Canaan or New Canaan. . . . (Amsterdam: Jacob F. Stam, 1637), p. 49, where Morton writes that the New England "Sal vages are found to be without Religion, Law, and King" — though he does say they make "acknowledgment of the Creation, and immortality of the Soule"; and Daniel Denton, A Brief Description of New-York . . . (London: Printed for John Hancock . . . and William Bradley, 1670), p. 8, wherein Denton flatly states that the worship of the Long Island Indians "is diabolical." 14. Harriot, p. [35]. 15. John Smith, in New Englands Trials (London: William Jones, 1622), briefly alludes to the Indian attacks on Jamestown; there were no formal histories of "Indian troubles" in New England until 1677, when two appeared: William Hubbard, A Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians in New-England, from . . . 1607, to .. . 1677 . . . (Boston: John Foster, 1677) and Increase Mather, A Relation of the Troubles which have hapned in New-England, by reason of the Indians there: From the Year 1614. to the Year 1675. . . . (Boston: John Foster, 1677). 16. Smith, New Englands Trials, pp. [18]-[19]. 17. Smith, New Englands Trials, p. [19]. 18. [Council for New England/Virginia], A briefe Relation of the Discovery and Plantation of New England . . . (London: John Haviland, [1622]), pp. [27]-[28], 19. The quotations regarding arms and land inheritance come from an anonymous broadside, The Inconveniencies that Have Happened to Some Persons Which Have Transported Themselves from England to Vir ginia. . . (London: Felix Kyngston, 1622); the balance are from Ralph 239 [or Raphe] Hamor, A True Discourse of the Present Estate of Virginia . . . (London: John Beale, 1615), pp. 20, 22. See also R[ichard] R[ich], Newes from Virginia. The lost Flocke Triumphant. . . . (Lon don: Edward Allde, 1610) for a glorification in verse of the bounties of Virginia; Edward Winslow, Good News from New-England, previously cited, pp. 65 and 66; John Hammond, Leah and Rachel, Or, the Two Fruitfull Sisters Virginia, and Mary-land . . . (London: T. Mabb, 1656); and [Robert Horne?], A Brief Description of The Province of Caroline On the Coasts of Floreda [sic] . . . (London: Printed for Robert Horne, 1666). 20. The quotation from Increase Mather is from A Relation of the Troubles, p 23; the quotation immediately preceding this is from Den ton, pp. 6-7. 21. Smith, Advertisements for the unexperienced, p. 2. A useful bibliography of writings on Puritan/Indian relationships is found in Charles M. Segal and David C. Stineback, Puritans, Indians, & Mani fest Destiny (New York: Putnam's, 1977), pp. 227—230. 22. John Rolfe to Sir Thomas Dale, quoted in Hamor, p. 63. Rolfe (1585-1622) was about ten years the senior of Pocahontas, she living from ca. 1595 or 1596 to 1617. The couple went to England in 1616, where Pocahontas was received as royalty (befitting her position as the daughter of the chief tan Powhatan). They prepared to return to Virginia in 1617, but Pocahontas became seriously ill and died at Gravesend. Rolfe and their son Thomas returned to Virginia; Rolfe was killed in an Indian raid on Bermuda Hundred in 1622. Thomas settled permanently in Virginia. (See the Dictionary of American Biography.) 23. Hamor, p. 24. 24. John Smith, in Advertisements For the unexperienced Planters (previously cited), has this to say about Indian proselyting: "All the trash they [the Viginia Company] could get in London was sent us to Virginia .... Much they blamed us for not converting the Sal vages, when those they sent us were little better, if not worse, nor did they all convert any of those we sent them to England for that purpose" (p. 5). An interesting evidence of a continuing British cur iosity about the American Indian was No. 50 of The Spectator. Written in commemoration of "the visit of . . . four Mohawk Chiefs to London in 1710," Royal Remarks; Or, The Indian King's Observations On the most Fashionable Follies: Now reigning in the Kingdom of Great-Brit- ain, was immensely popular and was immediately reprinted in pamphlet form. According to the cataloguer's note in the Huntington Library copy of the pamphlet reprint, the visit "was the subject of much in terest"; the chiefs "were taken over [to Britain] by Col. Peter Schuyler and were received by Queen Anne, who showed them consider able attention." The Royal Remarks purported to be a translation of "a Bundle of Papers . . . written by King Ouka; and . . . left behind by some Mistake"— though it is a typical Spectator piece built around Will Blunderbuss. (See [Richard Steele, ed.], Royal Remarks; Or, The 240 Indian King's Observations . . . [London: Printed for and Sold by the Booksellers, (1710)], pp. 1—2.) 25. Thomas Morton, p. 17. 26. Thomas Morton, title page. 27. Though Morton was perhaps the first British colonist to carefully and objectively examine the habits and personality of the Indian, whites from other European nations had published equally careful accounts of native Americans— though not so complete, per haps, or personable. In 1633, for example, and in each of the succes sive nine or ten years, P. Paul le Jeune, a Catholic missionary in Quebec, wrote a brief history of French/Indian affairs in the New World. In his history for 1633, he describes a visit to "les cabanes des Sauvages" in which he makes this observation: Les Frangois & eux en mangent incessammentpendant [sic] ce temps la, & en gardent quantite pour les jours qu'on ne mange point de chair, jentens les Frangois, carles Sauvages n'ont point d'autres mets pour l'ordinaire que celuy-la, jusques a ce que les neges soient grandes pour la chasse de l'Orignac. See P. Paul le Jeune, Relation de ce gui s'est passe en la nouvelle France, en l'annee 1633 . . . (Paris: Sebastien Cramoisy, 1634), pp. 8-13. 28. All quotations are from Thomas Morton, pp. 29-3D. 29. Both quotations are from Thomas Morton, p. 31. 30. All the quotations in this paragraph are from Thomas Morton, pp. 47-49. 31. Thomas Morton, p. 55. 32. See, for example, Thomas Lechford, Plain Dealing: Or, Newes From Neiv-England . . . (London: W.E. and J.G., 1642). He says this of the Indian women (and, like Morton, he has reference to New England tribes): "Their women are of comely feature, industrious, and doe most of the labour in plaiting, and carrying of burdens; their hus bands hold them in great slavery, yet never knowing other, it is the lesse grevious [sic] to them. They say, Englishman much foole, for spoiling good working creatures, meaning women: And when they see any of our English women sewing with their needles, or working coifes, or such things, they will cry out, Lazie squaws.1 " But, Lechford hastens to add, "they are much the kinder to their wives, by the example of the Englisti' (p. 49). See also Daniel Denton, A Brief Description of New-York, previously cited, pp. 10-11: "Their Marriages are performed without any Ceremony, the Match being first made by money. The sum being agreed upon and given to the woman, it makes a consummation of their Marriage, if I may so call it: After that, he keeps her during his pleasure, and upon the least dislike turns her away and takes another: It is no offence for their married women to lie with another 241 man, provided she acquaint her husband, or some of her nearest Rela tions with it, but if not, it is accounted such a fault that they sometimes punish her with death: An Indian may have two wives or more if he please; but it is not so much in use as it was since the Eng lish came amongst them: they being ready in some measure to imitate the English in things both good and bad." 33. W[illiam] C[astell], A Petition of W.C. Exhibited to the High Court of Parliament now assembled, for the propagating of the Gospel in America, and the West Indies . . . ([London]: n.p., 1641), pp. 12- 13. 34. See [John] Eliot and [Thomas] Mayhew, Tears of Repentance; Or A further Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel Amongst the Indians in New-England . . . (London: Peter Cole, 1653), a pamphlet directed toward the Corporation for the Propagation of the Gospel in New England. See also George Sherburn and Donald F. Bond, "The Restora tion and the Eighteenth Century," in Albert C. Baugh, ed., A Literary History of England, Second Edition (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall, 1948), p. 826. 35. Lechford, pp. 52-53. Though Dunster was perhaps the first 'minister to the Indians who attempted to teach them in their own lan guage, John Eliot was the man who later received the most notoriety [as an Indian minister and translator. Increase Mather eulogized Eliot as "The Apostle of the American Indians," declaring that "this Rev erend Person, not without very great labour, Translated the whole Bible into the Indian Tongue; he Translated also several English Treatises of Practical Divinity, and Catechisms into their Language." (See Increase Mather, A Letter Concerning The Success of the Gospel amongst the INDIANS in New-England; in Matthew Mayhew, The Conquests and Triumphs of Grace: Being A Brief Narrative of the Success which the Gospel hath had among the INDIANS of Martha's Vineyard . . . [Lon don: Printed for Nath[aniel] Mather, 1695], p. 64.) Cotton Mather, in his history of Eliot, praises him in these words: He hires a Native to teach him this exotick language, and with a laborious care and skill, reduces it into a Grammar which afterwards he published. There is a Letter or two of our Alphabet, which the Indians never had in theirs, tho there were enough of the Dog in their Temper, there can scarce be found an R in their language . . . [B]ut if their Alphabet be short, I am sure the words composed of it are long enough to tire the patience of any scholar in the world; . . . one would think they had been growing ever since Babel, unto the Dimensions to which they are now extended. For in stance, if my Reader will count how many Letters there are in this one word, Nummatchekodtantamooonganunnonash, when he has done, for his reward I'le tell him, it signifies no more in English than, our Lusts .... This tedious Language our Eliot quickly became a master of; he employ'd a pregnant and witty Indian, who also spoke English well, for his assistance in it; and compiling some discourses by his help, he would 242 single out a Word, a Noun, a Verb, and pursue it thro all its variations: having finished his grammar at the Close he writes, Prayers and Pains thro Faith in Christ Jesus will do any thing?' (See Cotton Mather, The Triumphs of the Reformed Religion in America. The Life of the Renowned John Eliot . . . [Boston: Benjamin Harris and John Aleen, 1691], pp. 85—87.) 36. Segal and Stineback, p. 37. 37. Anonymous, New Englands First Fruits: In Respect, First of the Conversion of some, Conviction of divers, Preparation of sundry of the Indians. . . . (London: R. O. and G. D., 1643), p. 3. 38. Anonynous, New Englands First Fruits, p. 3. 39. Anonymous, New Englands First Fruits, pp. 7-8. 40. All quotations are from [John] Eliot and [Thomas] Mayhew, Tears of Repentance: Or, A further Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel Amongst the Indians in New-England . . . (London: Peter Cole, 1653), pp. 37-39. 41. Eliot and Mayhew, Tears of Repentance, pp. 46-47. 42. R------ G------, Virginia's Cure: Or An Advisive Narrative Con cerning Virginia Discovering the true Ground of that Churches Unhap piness, and the only true Remedy. . . . (London: W[illiam] Godbid, 1662), p. vi. The brunt of the preface to this work is that, lacking the advantages of Christian society, strong pastors, and established schools, the planters are little better than the Heathens among which they find themselves. 43. John Eliot, A Brief Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel amongst the Indians in New-England, in the Year 1670. . . . (London: Printed for John Allen, 1671), p. 6. 44. Eliot, A Brief Narrative of the Progress of the Gospel, p. 5. 45. Anonymous, New Englands First Fruits, p. 3. 46. Anonymous, New Englands First Fruits, p. 3. 47. Eliot and Mayhew, Tears of Repentance, pp. xiii, xiv. 48. Thomas Shepard, The Clear Sun-shine of the Gospel Breaking Forth Upon the Indians in New-England . . . (London: R. Cotesa, 1648), p. 3. Shephard continues on this same page to explain that The Town therefore was granted them; but it seemes [sic] that the opposition made by some of themselves more malignantly set against these courses, hath kept them from any present setling [sic] downe: and surely this opposition is a speciall finger of Satan resisting these budding beginnings; for what 243 more hopefull way of doing them good then by cohabitation in such T o w n e s , n e a r e unto good examples, and such as may be continually whetting upon them, and dropping into them of the things of God. 49. Shephard, pp. 4—5, proposals 1, 2, 8, 12, 14, 15, 18, 21, 23, 25, 26, 27. 50. John Eliot, in a letter to Thomas Shepard, 24 September 1647; quoted in Shepard, p. 25. 51. Shepard, pp. 33—34. 52. Abraham Peirson, Some Helps for the Indians Shewing them How to improve their natural Reason .... Examined and approved by Thomas Stanton Interpreter-Generall to the United Colonies for the Indian Language, and by some others of the most able Interpreters amongst us {London: M. Simmons, 1659), p. 25. 53. Increase Mather, A Relation of the Troubles which have hapned in New-England, by reason of the Indians there: From the Year 1614. to the Year 1675. . . . (Boston: John Foster, 1677). Though it is concerned primarily with early New York history, Allen Trelease's chapter entitled "The Perils of Coexistence" in his Indian Affairs in Colonial New York: The Seventeenth Century (Ithaca: Cornell Univer sity Press, 1960), pp. 85—111, provides a brief yet relatively com plete account of the sorts of tensions existing between the Indians and the whites in all the Eastern colonies. 54. See Francis Murphy, introduction to "A Narrative of the Cap tivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson," in The Norton An thology of American Literature, Volume 1, ed. Ronald Gottesman, et. al. (New York: Norton, 1979), p. 58. 55. The best treatments of King Phillip's War and its historical ramifications are Charles M. Segal and David C. Stineback, previously cited, and Richard Slotkin and James K. Folsom, So Dreadfull a Judg ment: Puritan Responses to King Philip's War, 1676-1677 (Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1978). The most complete— albeit a long and often overdramatic— treatment of Philip's and other Indian wars is C. Hale Sipe, The Indian Wars of Pennsylvania . . . (Harrisburg: Telegraph Press, 1929). Additional information is to be found in Al len Trelease, Indian Affairs in Colonial New York, previously cited; Richard H. Dillon's North American Indian Wars (New York: Facts-on- File, Inc., 1983) is short on history but includes impressive and fascinating illustrations. 56. See Increase Mather, p. 72; see W[illiam] Hubbard, A Narra tive of the Troubles with the Indians in New-England, from the first planting thereof in the year 1607, to this present year 1677. . . . (Boston: John Foster, 1677), pp. 103, 104. 244 57. Mather's and Hubbard's works have been cited previously; the quotation is from Increase Mather, title page. Hubbard also claimed |to be preserving "the memory of such eminent deliverances, and spe cial preservations granted by divine favour to the people here." (See Hubbard, p. [vii]). Much of the Puritan bitterness towards the In dians undoubtedly resulted from an increased British presence in the Massachusetts settlements and a simultaneous curtailment of New Eng land rights and autonomy, both a direct result of King Philip's War. ! as Segal and Stineback suggest, the war "invited the King of England jto assert his jurisdiction over his subjects in New England, who seemed to have forfeited some of their humanity in the name of a dis torted version of Christianity" (p. 186). 58. See Increase Mather, pp. 11, 21, 67; Hubbard treats these spisodes similarly in the first half of his history. 59. Increase Mather, pp. 75—76. 60. Segal and Stineback, p. 148. 61. Matthew May hew, p. 33. 62. Thomas Dudley, "To The . . . Lady Bridget Countess of Lincoln, Vlarch 12th. 1630," in Anonymous, Massachusetts or The first Planters of New-England . . . (Boston: B. Green and J. Allen, 1696), pp. 26—27. 63. T[homas] A[sh], Carolina; Or A Description Of the Present State of that Country, And The Natural Excellencies thereof . . . (London: Printed for W.C., 1682), pp. 34—35. 64. See Ash, pp. 34—35. 65. R F------, The Present State of Carolina with Advice to the Setlers (London: John Bringhurst, 1682), pp. 5, 13, 14. 66. John Cripps, A True Account of the Dying Words of Ockanickon, an Indian King, Spoken to Jahkursoe, His Brother’ s Son, whom he ap pointed King after him (London: Printed for Benjamin Clark, 1682), pp. 5-6, 8. 67. See William Penn, A Letter from William Poprietary [sic] and Governour of Pennsylvania in America, to the Committee of the Free Society of Traders in that Province, residing in London . . . (Shore ditch: Andrew Sowle, 1683). His comments on the origins of the In dians are on page 7; the balance of the quotations are from page 5. 68. Penn, p. 7. 69. See John Lawson, A New Voyage to Carolina, ed. Hugh Talmage Lefler (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolila Press, 1967), a "true copy"; of the 1709 London Edition. The unusual detail of Law son's account is exemplified by his recording on page 176: "They have 245 no Hairs on their Faces (except some few) and those but little, nor is there often found any Hair under their Arm-Pits. They are contin ually plucking it away from their Faces, by the Roots. As for their Privities, since they wore Tail-Clouts, to cover their Nakedness, several of the Men have a deal of Hair thereon. It is to be observ'd, that the Head of the Penis is cover'd [uncircumcised] (throughout all the Nations of the Indians I ever saw) both in Old and Young. Al though we reckon these a very smooth People, and free from Hair; yet I once saw a middle-aged Man, that was hairy all down his Back; the Hairs being above an Inch long." 70. Lawson, pp. 243—244. 71. All quotations are from Lawson, pp. 245 and 246. 72. [Thomas Nairne], A Letter from South Carolina; Giving an Ac count of the Soil, Air, Products, Trade, Government, Laws, Religion, People, Military Strength, &c. of that province . . . (London: Printed for A. Baldwin, 1710), pp. 31—32, 33. Though Nairne's volume is brief, it is a clearly written and relatively complete source of in formation about early Carolinian law, government, and military struc ture. 73. Nairne, p. 43. 74. Hugh Jones, The Present State of Virginia. Giving a partic ular and short Account of the Indian, English, and Negroe Inhabitants of that Colony . . . (London: Printed for J. Clarke, 1724), pp. 8, 9. 75. Jones, pp. 19, 20. 76. Jones, pp. 17, 92. 77. See Experience Mayhew, Indian Converts ... of Martha's Vineyard . . . (London: Printed for S. Gerrish, bookseller in Boston, :.727), title page. 78. Joseph Frangois Lafitau, Moeurs des Sauvages Ameriguains, Comparees aux Moeurs des premiers temps . . . (Paris: Charles Estienne Hochereau, 1724), Volume II, pp. 608, 610. 79. See Samuel Penhallow, The History of the Wars of New-England, With the Eastern Indians . . . from the 10th of August, 1703 ... to 15th December, 1725. . . . (Boston: T[homas] Fleet, 1726), title page, p. 135. 80. The long quotation is from p. 74 of Penhallow's history; pre vious references are to pp. 6, 27, 37, and 45. 81. Penhallow, p. v. 82. See Penhallow, pp. 37, 46, 113. 246 83. James Grady, et. al., A Description of the famous new Colony of Georgia, In South Carolina . . . (Dublin: James Hoey, 1734), pp. 8-9. 84. See An Honourable Person (pseud.], "A Curious Account of GEORGIA," in A Young Gentleman [pseud.], A New Voyage to Georgia . . . [Second Edition . . . (London: Printed ... at the Three Flower de Luces, 1737), pp. 57—58. 85. An Honourable Person, p. 57. 86. John Wesley, An Extract of the Rev. Mr. John Wesley’ s Journal From his Embarking for Georgia To his Return to London . . . (Bristol: 3. and F. Farley, [1739?]), pp. 11, 23. 87. Wesley, pp. 62—63. 88. Wesley, pp. 73—74. 89. George Whitefield, A Continuation of the Reverend Mr. White- field's Journal, From his Arrival at Savannah, To his Return to Lon- ion . . . , second ed. (London: The Bible and Sun, 1739). 90. David Brainerd, Mirabilia Dei inter Indicos, Or The Rise and Progress Of a Remarkable Work of Grace Amongst a Number of the In dians . . . (Philadelphia: William Bradford, [1746?], pp. 208, 228. 91. Brainerd, p. 237. 92. See James Walcot, The New Pilgrim's Progress; Or, The Pious Indian Convert, Containing A faithful Account of Hattain Gelashmin, A Heathen . . . (London: Printed for M. Cooper, 1748). Referred to ear lier in the paragraph is Thomas [Wilson], The Knowledge and Practice of Christianity Made Easy to the Meanest Capacities: Or, An Essay Towards An Instruction for the Indians . . . (London: J. Osborne, 1741). For the most part, the religious primers written in Indian dialects were likewise published in Britain; an example is the anon ymous Primer for the Use of the Mohawk Children, To acquire the Spelling and Reading of their Own, as well as to get acquainted with the English, Tongue . . . (London: C. Buckton, 1786). 93. John Sergeant, A Letter From the Revd Mr. Sergeant ... To Dr. Colman of Boston; Containing Mr. Sergeant's Proposal of a more effectual Method for the Education of Indian Children . . . (Boston: Rogers & Fowle, 1743), pp. 3, 5. 94. See Samuel Hopkins, Historical Memoirs, Relating to the Hous- atunnuk Indians: Or, An Account of the Methods used, and Pains taken, for the Propagation of the Gospel among that heathenish Tribe, . . . under the late Reverend Mr. John Sergeant . . . (Boston: S. Kneeland, 1753), p. 106. The narrative of his taking the two boys into his home is on pp. 18—19. 247 95. Sergeant, p. 5. 96. Hopkins, Historical Memoirs, pp. 141, 142. 97. All quotations in the two preceding paragraphs are from [Wil liam Smith], Indian Songs of Peace with a Proposal, in a prefatory Epistle, for erecting Indian Schools. . . . (New-York: Parker and Way- man, 1754), p. 5. 98. Smith, title page, p. 27. 99. Eleazar Wheelock, A plain and faithful Narrative of the Orig inal Design, Rise, Progress and present State of the Indian Charity- School at Lebanon, in Connecticut. . . . (Boston: Richard and Samuel Draper, 1763), pp. 19, 25, 27, 28. 100. Brainerd, pp. 186—187. 101. Brainerd, p. 186. 102. See Segal and Stineback, pp. 141—179, "Christianizing the Indians"; see especially p. 148. 103. John Brickell, The Natural History of North-Carolina. With an Account of the Trade, Manners, and customs of the Christian and In dian Inhabitants . . . (Dublin: James Carson, 1737), pp. 296—297. Brickell's manuscript is often described as a plagiarism of John Law son's A New Voyage to Carolina (1709), previously cited— though Brickell's work contains much information not included in Lawson. For a discussion of the relation between the two works, see Hugh Talmage Lefler's introduction to the edition of Lawson previously cited, pp. lii—liii. 104. John R. Dunbar, ed. The Paxton Papers (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1957), introduction, p. 3. Dunbar's book, which is a com pilation of 28 contemporary pamphlets dealing with the Paxton affair, is by far the best source on the subject. His introduction provides a relatively objective and fair perspective on the social and political backgrounds of the incident, though he tends to side with the Pax- tonians in the matter. His notes on each of the pamphlets are concise and useful. A second source of more limited value is Wilbur R. Ja cobs, The Paxton Riots and the Frontier Theory, a volume in the Berkeley Series on American History (Chicago: Rand McNally, 1967). 105. See Dunbar, p. 49. 106. See Benjamin Franklin, A Narrative of the Late Massacres, In Lancaster County, Of A Number of Indians, Friends of this Province . . . ([Philadelphia: Anthony Armbruster], 1764), p. 4. Franklin says there were "7 Men, 5 Women, and 8 Children, Boys and Girls"; of the men, one named Shehaes was "very old"; a second named John was "another good old Man." 248 107. See Dunbar, p. 50. 108. Franklin's text has been cited; the other is Matthew Smith and James Gibson, A Declaration and Remonstrance Of the distressed and bleeding Frontier Inhabitants Of the Province of Pennsylvania, Presented by them to the Honourable the Governor and Assembly of the Province . . . ([Philadelphia]: [William Bradford?], 1764). 109. The short quotations are from Franklin, A Narrative of the Late Massacres, pp. 4—9, 13, and 26—29; the longer quotation concern ing Christian example is from p. 14. 110. Franklin, A Narrative of the Late Massacres, p. 3. 111. Franklin, A Narrative of the Late Massacres, p. 13. The pre ceding shorter quotations come from pp. 12 and 14. 112. The long quotation is from Franklin, pp. 25—27; previous ref erences are to pp. 18 and 24. 113. Franklin, A Narrative of the Late Massacres, pp. 29, 31. 114. See Smith and Gibson, pp. 6, 14. 115. Smith and Gibson, pp. 4—6. 116. Smith and Gibson, p. 10. 117. See Smith and Gibson, pp. 11—18. 118. [Thomas Barton], The Conduct of the Paxton-Men, Impartially represented; The Distresses of the Frontiers, and Complaints and Suf ferings of the People . . . With Some Remarks upon the Narrative, Of the Indian-Massacre, lately publish'd. . . . (Philadelphia: Andrew Steuart, 1764), p. 3. 119. Barton, p. 17. 120. Barton, pp. 9, 21—22. 121. Barton, pp. 29—30. 122. Anonymous, A Dialogue between Andrew Trueman and Thomas Zealot; About the killing the Indians at Cannestogoe and Lancaster ([Philadelphia: Anthony Armbruster, 1764]), pp. 3, 6. 123. Christopher Gymnast [pseud.], The Paxtoniade. A Poem. . . . (Philadelphia: John Morris, [1764]), p. 2. 124. Gymnast [pseud.], pp. 3, 4. 249 125. Native of Donegal [pseud.], The Paxton Boys, A Farce . . . , second edition (Philadelphia: Anthony Armbruster, 1764), pp. 7—8. 126. Native of Donegall [pseud.], p. 8. 127. Native of Donegal [pseud.], p. 15. 128. Native of Donegal [pseud.], p. 16. 129. Native of Donegal [pseud.], p. 16. 130. Dunbar, p. 50. 131. See Thomas Jefferson, An Appendix to the Notes on Virginia Relative to the Murder of Logan's Family (Philadelphia: Samuel H. Smith, 1800), pp. 50—51. Logan's speech was originally published in Jefferson's Notes on Virginia (Paris, 1784); he made slight correc tions in the version published in the Appendix Jefferson's 1784 ac count of the speech drew a number of complaints, particularly from friends of Colonel Cresap, the man Jefferson had accused of killing Logan's family. Many of these critics accused Jefferson of misrepre senting historical facts in his account; he was eventually prompted to release the 58-page Appendix in order to explore alternative ac counts of the lives of Logan, Cresap and others. 132. Besides being anthologized in dozens of contemporary primers, "The Speech of Logan" was featured by Noah Webster in the second issue of his American Magazine 1:2 (January 1788), 106, where it is literally lost between a long historical introduction and the endless notes which follow it; it also was the leading feature in an 1803 miscellany, The Speech of Logan, By T. Jefferson; . . . &c. (New-York: Elliot & Hunt, [1803]), p.3. 133. Samuel Hopkins, An Address to the People of New-England, Representing the very great Importance of attaching the Indians to their Interest . . . (Boston: n.p., 1753; reprinted Philadelphia: Benjamin Franklin, 1757), pp. 3, 4. 134. Hopkins, An Address, pp. 9, 11, 12, 16, 18. 135. [Jacob Duche, Clerk to George Croghan], Minutes of Conferen ces, Held with the Indians, At Harris's Ferry, and at Lancaster. In March, April, and May, 1757 (Philadelphia: Franklin and Hall, 1757), p. 4. Croghan was Deputy Agent to William Johnson, Baronet, the King's Agent and Superintendent of the Affairs of the Six Nations. The assembled tribes were the Delawares, Conestogas, Nanticokes, Onondagoes, Cayugas, Senecas, Tuscaroras, Oneidoes, and Mohawks. 136. [Jacob Duche, Clerk to George Croghan], Minutes of Conferen ces, Held with the Indians, at Easton, In the Months of July, and August, 1757 (Philadelphia: Franklin and Hall, 1757), p. 24. Teedyus- cung was chief of the Delawares. 250 137. [Abel James, Clerk], To William Denny, Esquire Lieutenant Governor and Commander in Cheif [sic] of the Province of Pennsyl vania, &c. The Address of the Trustees and Treasurer of the Friendly Association for regaining and preserving peace with the Indians by Pacific Measures ([Philadelphia: Franklin and Hall, 1757) [broad side], p. 1. 138. [Abel James, Clerk], p. 4. 139. Benezet, Some Observations, p. 8. 140. Benezet, Some Observations, pp. 8, 34— 35. The history of the "Moravian Massacres" is on pp. 26—33. 141. Benezet, Some Observations, p. 40. 142. Benjamin Franklin, Two Tracts: Information to those Who Would Remove to America. And, Remarks Concerning the Savages of North Amer ica (London: Printed for John Stockdale, 1784), pp. 29—30; the pre ceding shorter quotations are from pages 25 and 27. 143. Franklin, Remarks Concerning the Savages, pp. 28—29. 144. Franklin, Some Remarks Concerning the Savages, pp. 30—31. 145. Franklin, Some Remarks Concerning the Savages, pp. 34—35. 146. Franklin, Some Remarks on the Savages, p. 39. 147. Noah Webster, On the Morality of Savage Nations, in A Collec tion of Essays and Fugitive Writings. On Moral, Historical, Political and Literary Subjects . . . (Boston: Thomas and Andrews, 1790), p. 233 ff. The quotations cited are from p. 233. 148. Webster, On the Morality of Savage Nations, p. 233. 149. Webster, On the Morality of Savage Nations, p. 233, body and footnote. 150. Webster, On the Morality of Savage Nations, p. 234. The pre ceding quotations are from pp. 233, 234. 151. Benjamin Rush, An Account of the Vices Peculiar to the In dians of North America, in Essays, Literary, Moral & Philosophical . . . (Philadelphia: Thomas & Samuel Bradford, 1798), pp. 257—262. The quotations are from p. 257. 152. Rush, An Account of the Vices, pp. 259—260. 153. Rush, An Account of the Vices, p. 257. 251 154. See James H. O'Donnell, III, Southern Indians in the American Revolution (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1973), p. vii. 155. Quoted in O'Donnell, p. ix. 156. See Trelease, p. viii. 157. See O'Donnell, p. ix. 158. O'Donnell, pp. ix—x. 159. Sipe, p. 718. 160. Alexis de Toqueville, Democracy in America, Volume I, ed. Phillips Bradley (New York: Knopf, 1966), pp. 333-334. 252 CHAPTER 4 Humanitarian Essays 2: White Responsibilities to Blacks When a "Dutch man of warre" brought "twenty negars" to Virginia in 1619, John Rolfe mentioned it only briefly in his personal his tory. His recording of the first "forced immigration" of Africans to America evinces no guilt, no sense of regret, certainly no suggestion of the shame, hatred and anguish that institutionalized black slavery would eventually bring upon the entire nation. There are two obvious reasons for Rolfe's indifference. First, the introduction of blacks in Virginia was hardly unusual. White Europeans had long believed that the African's physique and pigmentation suited him to hard labor and to extended exposure to the sun; the practice of using African natives as slaves or servants had existed in Europe and European colonies for nearly 200 years. And slavery had recently been intro duced in the "sugar plantations" of Jamaica, Barbados and the West Indies to tremendous economic advantage. Second, although the 1619 importation did indeed mark the begin ning of the Virginian as well as the American slave trades, it is unlikely that the early settlers could have guessed the eventual ram ifications of colonial slavery. The first blacks had been brought to Virginia "on trial," as it were, and the slave trade would remain 253 experimental through the 1630s, when the first black laborers were brought to Maryland. Even as late as 1669, when the Carolinas were opened to the trade, plantation companies relied most extensively not on black slavery, but on the labor of white indentured servants. In deed, black slaves were often purchased out of necessity rather than convenience. Through the 1680s countless British whites, made des perate by poverty, anxiously became indentured servants in return for passages to the New World; a plantation owner incurred less expense by paying the passage of a white than that of a black. And with white slaves, there were few linguistic or cultural barriers. Accordingly, the number of blacks in the colonies increased slowly during the eighteenth century. In fact, there were only 300 blacks in all of Virginia in 1649, thirty years after the first transaction with the Dutch traders.1 Initially, there were comparatively few technical or legal dif ferences between the white and black servants who worked the American plantations. "In the main," writes Kenneth Stampp in The Peculiar Institution, "Maryland and Virginia masters first subjected their Ne groes to the customary forms of servitude": Like white servants, some of them gained their freedom after serving a term of years, or after conversion to Christianity. If their bondage tended to be more severe, their terms of service longer or even of indefinite duration, this merely indicated that attractive inducements did not have to be held out to servants whose coming to America was not a matter of free choice. Moreover, the Negro and white servants of the seven teenth century seemed to be remarkably unconcerned about their visible physical differences. They toiled together in the fields, fraternized during leisure hours, and in and out of wedlock, collaborated in siring a numerous progeny. Though the first southern white settlers were quite familiar with 254 rigid class lines, they were as unfamiliar with a caste sys tem as they were with chattel slavery. 3 Until the late 1600s, there was actually less tension between blacks and whites than between Indians and whites, a situation re sulting from— ironically enough— what was perceived as the Africans' lack of humanity. Regarding Indian/white relations, Brooks, Lewis and Warren point out in their American Literature: The Makers and the Making that the tensions which inevitably arose between the two races were often viewed in a religious context; this occasioned a "pecu liarly ferocious response" from the early colonists. The intensity of white reaction derived primarily from the fact that the Indian was recognized as a man— that, indeed, he was numbered among the King's subjects; that Christianity and civilization were accessible to him. Simply stated, "the Indian was human," yet "by his color, by his con duct, in his heathen, naturalistic religious rites, the Indian per sistently betrayed the humanity he allegedly possessed." The black, on the other hand, "aroused no corresponding zeal in the colonial heart": although "his nature had not yet been determined (the ques tion being whether he was simply property or a lower animal form) it was clear that he was not human."3 In the minds of the early planters, there were also practical, slavery-related reasons for distinguishing between the Indian and the black. Though there were important exceptions, the general policy in all the early colonies was against Indian slavery. "Indian servi tude," as Stampp makes clear, "was never an adequate or satisfactory answer to the labor needs" of the major settlements, especially those in the South: 255 Cultural factors made It difficult for Indians to adapt to the plantation regime. Unlike the Negroes, Indian slaves found it relatively easy to escape along familiar forest trails to the protection of their own people. The weakness of the early white settlements ordinarily caused them to value the friendship of neighboring Indians more than their poten tial labor.4 But if the Indian was not a slave to the early white landowners, neither— in name, at least— was the black, at least not initially. Two things occurred during the late 1600s, however, which greatly changed the position of the black in colonial society. First, his numbers in creased dramatically. During the first seventy years of the American slave trade the total number of blacks brought into the colonies probably did not exceed forty or fifty thousand. But during the next century— between 1690 and 1798, when the legal slave trade was brought to an end— as many as five million blacks were brought into the New World, sometimes at the rate of over 70,000 per year.® This meant that at various times in the history of the Southern colonies, the blacks outnumbered the whites by two to one. Thus threatened, the whites devised ways and means for increasing their own power and cur tailing that of the blacks, resulting in the black indentured ser vant's being transformed by the early 1700s into a chattel slave. And second, as freed blacks— together with black servants who were afforded appropriate opportunities by their owners— began to demonstrate their intelligence, their sense of reason, their capacity to adapt to white society, and in some cases their ability to read and write, many whites moved to downplay their accomplishments and to delimit their freedom to pursue knowledge or specialized training. The "humanization" of blacks was an even larger threat to white soci- 256 ety than their increasing population because it disallowed the three central pretenses upon which their control had been maintained: 1) that in the wisdom of God the black had been created for intensive labor, 2) that "by intellect and temperament [the black] was the nat ural slave of the white man," and 3) that "Africans were barbarians" who "needed to be subjected to rigid discipline and severe controls." And so in order to preserve pretenses, to maintain white dominance, the gradual enslavement of the blacks was defended as being "essen tial [to] their own good and [to] the preservation of white civiliza tion." 6 At the risk of oversimplification, then, it can be argued that the American caste system grew up in both the northern and southern colonies in response to threats posed by a rapidly expanding black population and the blossoming of a Black American culture. In ex plaining the caste system inherent to American slavery, Alexis de Tocqueville compared it to that of aristocratic European society, pointing specifically to Marquise de Sevigne, a woman of letters who was renowned for her civility and cultural sense. Tocqueville tells how she once gave a cool and detached description of the gruesome torture/death of a wandering fiddler "for getting up a dance and stealing some stamped paper." Drawing a parallel between the Marquise and an American slave owner, Tocqueville emphasized that she was nei ther inhuman nor cruel— but, instead, that she "had no clear notion of suffering in anyone who was not a person of quality." Tocqueville continued: "The same man who is full of humanity toward his fellow creatures when they are at the same time his equals, becomes insen 257 sible to their afflictions as soon as the equality ceases. His mild ness should therefore be attributed to the equality of status rather than to civilization and education."7 Tocqueville argued, in other words, that where inequality sprang up or resided, "so did inhumanity." But he also believed the converse to be true: that a sense of "general compassion" prevailed among peo ple who perceived the equality of all mankind— so that in his mind the humanitarian ethic was inextricably tied to "the rise of the idea of equality."8 True to Tocqueville's argument, the first documenta tions of black accomplishment were quickly followed by writings en couraging his improvement or demanding his freedom; writings which argued for the basic rights of blacks were further stimulated by the passage of the first colonial slave laws. Thus, as many slave owners sought to maintain their positions in society by disavowing black hu manity, the American abolition movement was being born through the writings of those who refused to allow the grossest immorality to be covered by pretense and wrong traditions. To devote more space to backgrounds of American slavery would be pointless: slavery and its historical contexts have been explored thoroughly and proficiently and from numerous perspectives.9 For the purpose of the ensuing discussion, it is sufficient to note that the Indian and the black were perceived very differently by white soci ety, and that it was the Indian's "wild" or "irrational" behavior in the face of his accepted humanity that occasioned white suspicion and resentment; that the unforeseen yet unmistakable manifestation of black humanity was more threatening or unsettling to whites than the 258 expansion of the black population; and that both slavery and aboli tion evolved in deliberate response to strong and pervasive emotions associated with white society's growing awareness of black humanity. The first documents advocating the rights of blacks working on the American plantations, such as Morgan Godwyn's The Negro's & In dians Advocate Suing for their Admission into the Church (1680), were published in Britain. As was the intention of the writers of many of jthese earliest tracts, Godwyn is concerned with proving that "every Man [has] an equal Right to Religion," declaring that because the "Negro's are Men, ... to deprive them of this Right is the highest Injustice." But unlike his immediate contemporaries, Godwyn was not ex clusively concerned with securing the rights of baptism for black slaves: his essay examines fundamental questions related to freedom, physical appearance, and the soul and mind of man, questions that would later cross the Atlantic to haunt Woolman and Benezet. Observes Godwyn, "The Negro's in their Native Country, and perhaps here [Vir ginia] also, if they durst speak their inward Sentiments, do entertain as high thoughts of themselves and of their Complexion, as our Euro peans do; and at the same time holding the contrary in an equal dis dain." But Godwyn is not simply pointing out cultural/physical dif ferences; he is demonstrating what white perceptions imply about black character and about God. Referring to the notion that "the countenance of the black is somewhat removed from that of perfect and real Men," he writes: 259 This opinion . . . , if driven to the head, would infer [a] strange and before unheard of conceit in Divinity, viz. That Colours are a means of Grace, and have a power in them to recommend us to God. Whence it would follow, that Vertue should be an unseparable attendant upon Beauty; and the fair est Bodies must then inevitably inshrine [sic] the purest and brightest Souls; the contrary whereto was the Satyrist's ob servation. 10 Godwyn dismisses the traditional scriptural basis for slavery— the belief that the blacks were descendants of Ham and therefore the in heritors of the curse of servitude placed on Ham's posterity— as a falsehood and a misreading of the Bible. He argues further that even supposing Servitude to be the thing intended in that Im precation, (or Prediction, as I rather believe it) and that our Negro’ s, improbable as it is, were the very Parties con cerned therein; yet, as it toucheth not their Right to Reli gion, . . . neither doth it therefore confer any Right or Au thority over them upon any, nor commission us to be the Ex ecutioners of the Sentence.11 The validity of Godwyn's arguments hinges on a conviction of white hypocrisy. This, indeed, is the theme of virtually all aboli tion documents from Godwyn through Stowe: if blacks— or members of any other race— may be defined as men, then conscience and right rea son forbids any degree of discrimination against them. Certainly this is one theme of the Germantown Friends' Protest against Slavery (1688), generally regarded as the first American abo lition tract. Addressed specifically to the Philadelphia Quakers, many of whom were slaveholders at the time, the tract observes that "the most part of such negers [as are sold in the American colonies] are brought hither against their will and consent, . . . many of them stolen." The authors of the tract then demand: And those who steal or robb men, and those who buy or purchase them, are they not all alike? ... In Europe there are many oppressed for conscience sake; and here there are those op 260 pressed wh[o] are of a black colour. And we who know that men must not comitt adultery, — some do committ adultery in others; and some sell the children of these poor creatures to other men. Ah! doe consider well this thing, you who doe it, if you would be done at this manner? and if it is done ac cording to Christianity? . . . This makes an ill report in all those countries of Europe, where they hear oft, that the Quakers doe here handel men as they handel there the cattle. And for that reason some have no mind or inclination to come hither. And who shall maintain this your cause, or pleid for it? Truly we can not do so.12 Although the Philadelphia Quakers initially rejected the peti tion of their contemporaries in Germantown, judging it improper "to give a Positive Judgment in the Case, It having so General a Relation to many other Parts,"13 most had adopted an anti-slavery position by the turn of the century. The change in Quaker doctrine can largely be ascribed to the influence of George Keith, a prominent British Quaker who acquired immense popularity among Americans of his faith and who firmly warned against slavery as early as 1693: In true Christian Love, we earnestly recommend it to all our Friends and Brethren, Not to buy any Negroes, unless it were on purpose to set them free, and that such who have bought any, and have them at present, after some reasonable time of moderate Service they have had of them, . . . they may set them at Liberty, and during the time they have them, to teach them to read, and give them a Christian Education.14 George Fox, another prominent British Quaker, encouraged believ ers to "consider seriously" what they would do if they found them selves "in the same condition as the Blacks." Considerably less lib eral than Keith, Fox stops short of condemning the slave trade. But holding up the golden rule as a standard to be followed by his lis teners as they seek to be duly sensitive to the "slavish Condition" of the blacks, he conveys anxiety over the general treatment of slaves by their masters, wondering how many blacks are brought "to 261 know the Lord Christ" through the kindness of their owners. In this context, he established recommendations on marriages between black slaves, recommendations that were highly controversial outside the Quaker community where black marriages were neither encouraged nor recognized: If any of your Negroes desire to marry, let them take one another before Witnesses, in the Presence of God, and the Masters of the Families, in the Name of Jesus, the Restorer of all Things to the Beginning, when God made them Male and Female, not one Man and many Women, but a Man and a Woman, and they were to continue and consort together as long as they lived, and not to break the Covenant and Law of Marriage (nor defile the Marriage-Bed).15 In the meantime, Cotton Mather had begun to outline the rudi ments of the Puritan doctrine on slavery. As is exemplified by The Life of the Renowned John Eliot (1691), Mather's stance is widely divergent from Keith's, approaching that of Fox: May the several Plantations, that live upon the Labours of their Negroes, no more be guilty of such a prodigious wicked ness, as to deride, neglect, and oppose all due means of brin[g]ing their poor Negroes unto our Lord; but may the Mas ters of whom God will one day require the Souls of the Slaves committed unto them, see to it, that like Abraham, they have Catechised Servants; and not imagine that the Almighty God made so many thousands of Reasonable creatures for nothing, but only to serve the Lusts of the Epicures, or the gains of Mammonists; lest the God of Heaven out of meer [sic] Pity, if not Justice, unt[o] those unhappy Blacks, be provoked unto a vengeance which may not without Horrour be thought upon. Lord, when shall we see Ethiopians read thy Scriptures with Unders tanding/* ® Mather and other leading Puritans believed that slavery was justified by the Old Testament; and the New England churches wanted no share in criticizing or putting aside what God had apparently ordained— or in tangling with Puritan authority. And so members and ministers alike took slavery for granted, rarely considering questions of its legit 262 imacy; most followed Mather in arguing for moral responsibility within the existing traditions of slave ownership. In Bonifacius: An Essay upon the Good . . . and to Do Good (1710), for example, Mather begins a short discussion of slavery with a lament worthy of George Keith. "Oh! that the Souls of our Slaves, were of more Account with us!" he declares; "that we gave a better Demonstration that we Despise not our own Souls, by doing what we can for the Souls of our Slaves, and not using them as if they had no Souls!" But his concern, of course, is not with slavery itself or even with the physical treatment of blacks; instead, he denounces the whites' withholding of Christian conversion from their servants: That the poor slaves and Blacks, which Live with us, may by our means be made the Candidates of the Heavenly Life! How can we pretend unto Christianity, when we do no more to Christianize our Slaves! . . . Certainly, They would be the Better . . . , the more Faithful, the more Honest, the more In dustrious, and Submissive Servants to you, for your bringing them into the Service of your Common Lord. ... In the mean time, the Slave-Trade is a Spectacle that Shocks Humanity. The harmless Natives basely they trepan And barter Baubles for the Souls of men. The Wretches they to Christian Climes bring o’ er To serve worse Heathens than they did before.11 Mather invites all Christian slaveholders to submit to the fol lowing "RESOLUTION of a MASTER": "I would always Remember, that my Servants are in some sort my Children. In a Care, That they may want nothing that may be good for them, I would make them as my Children." Included in this commitment are the responsibilities of seeing that one's slaves have been "Instill[ed with] Piety," "furnished with Bi bles, and Able and Careful to Read," compelled to attend "the Relig ious Exercises of [the] Family," taught the catechism and given "a Reward when they have done it," shown that their master is " Inquisi 263 tive and Sollicitous about the[ir chosen] Companions," appropriately employed in teaching "Lessons of Piety unto [the master's] Children," 1 R and instructed individually concerning "the State of their Souls."*0 As for the slaves themselves, Mather expects them to be patient and submissive, relying on God— and on their masters— for spiritual redemption. He addresses himself to the slaves; but because they would have constituted a virtually illiterate audience, it hardly seems possible that his primary intention was to edify the blacks. Instead, he is almost surely attempting to conciliate slave owners when he writes: "0 Servants . . . remember but Four Words, and En deavour all that is comprized in them, OBEDIENCE, HONESTY, INDUSTRY, and PIETY, [and] you will be the Blessings and the Josephs of the Families to which you belong."19 Mather's counsel on slavery became the basis of the attitudes which, by and large, predominated in New England until after the Revolution; certainly it was the basis for Puritan doctrine on the issue. As Lester B. Scherer has pointed out in his Slavery and the Churches in Early America, the early Christians— in or out of New England— rarely believed that "involvement in slave property dis qualified one from Christian fellowship the way that . . . fornica tion" — or even drunkenness— "usually did." In fact, Scherer argues that until as late as 1820, the opposition to slavery was always a minority sentiment within the church, and practical resistance to the institution was limited to an even smaller fraction of the membership. Vari ous kinds of passivity were more characteristic: (1) direct ing the churches' mission chiefly to whites, (2) persuading owners that Christianity was useful to their interests, (3) treating slavery as merely a lower degree in a God-given so cial order, (4) not supporting even the "religious rights" of 264 slaves (worship, marriage, etc.), and (5) pushing slavehold- ing into the realm of morally neutral things.20 Scherer argues that "one of the ironies" of the American abolition movement was that "those churches most influential and most eager to convert the whole nation to godliness" were often the very ones most guilty of various forms of active and passive discrimination. On the other hand, he says, "the most effective antislavery church was the Society of Friends, whose ventures in abolitionism were motivated chiefly by a desire to purify their own sect. They were afraid that God would disown them if they did not disown slaveholders." Indeed, most Americans, Christians or not, "seemed a good deal more fright ened of emancipated slaves than of divine punishment for enslaving them."21 If white fears constituted the primary resistance against the abolition movement, such fears were fueled in main by the pro-slavery pamphlets which proliferated in the wake of abolitionist publica tions. Instead of answering such writers as George Keith of George Fox directly, the earliest pro-slavery documents played on settlers' greed or their sense of physical security. The anonymous tract The Present State of Carolina (1682) informs prospective immigrants that the labor of black slaves "proclaims the Setlers [sic] plenty" and that their "service doubles their security, if ... a Foreigner should attempt to invade them." The slaves also afford protection against the Indians, "enervat[ing] the feminine Native, if at any time he conspires against the Inhabitant, who can never be insensible of the natural antipathy the Native, and the Negro has [sic] one against another"; this, says the author, "rather confirms the Setlers secur 265 ity."22 Similarly, A Letter from South Carolina (1710) boasts that "there are . . . enrolled in our Militia, a considerable Number of ac tive, able, Negro Slaves"; emphasizing the fairness of local laws and the consequent unlikelihood of black mutiny, the writer adds that "the Law gives every one of these his Freedom, who in the Time of an Invasion, kills an Enemy; the publick making Satisfaction to his Mas ter for the Damage sustained by the Slave's Manumission."23 In The Present State of Virginia (1724), Hugh Jones holds up the promise of wealth to potential slaveholders, informing his audience that, in Virginia, "the Negroes are very numerous, some Gentlemen 'having Hundreds of them of all Sorts, to whom they bring great Pro fit." The well-to-do plantation owner is described as augmenting his slave holdings through "fresh Supplies" of "new Negroes" from Africa, whose languages "are very harsh Jargons." However, Jones assures his more frugal and insecure readers that the blacks "are very prolifick among themselves; and they that are born [in Virginia] talk good Eng lish, and affect our Language, Habits, and Customs; and tho1 they be naturally of a barbarous and cruel Temper, yet are they kept under control by severe Discipline upon Occasion, and by good Laws are pre vented from running away." And for the benefit of the squeamish— those who may have qualms about the morality of slavery— Jones con fides: Their Work ... is not very laborious; their greatest Hardship consisting in that they and their Posterity are not at their own Liberty or Disposal . . . ; and when they are free, they know not how to provide so well for themselves generally; neither did they live so plentifully nor ... so easily in their own Country, where they are made Slaves to one another. . . . 266 Their Work is to take Care of the Stock, and plant Corn, Tobacco, Fruits, &c. which is not harder than Thrashing, Hedg ing, or Ditching: besides, tho' they are out in the violent Heat, wherein they delight, yet in wet or cold Weather there is little Occasion for their working in the Fields, . . . lest by this means they might get sick or die, which would prove a great Loss to their Owners. . . . Several of them are taught to be Sawyers, Carpenters, Smiths, Coopers, &c. and though for the most Part they be none of the aptest or nicest; yet they are by Nature cut out for hard Labour and Fatigue, and will perform tolerably well; though they fall much short of an Indian, that has learn'd and seen the same Things; and those Negroes make the best Servants, that have been Slaves in their own Country, for they that have been Kings and great Men there are generally lazy, haughty, and obstinate; whereas the others are sharper, better humoured, and more laborious. . . . [Again], the most laborious [of their work] is the fell ing of Trees and the like, to which kind of Slavery (if it must be so called) our Wood-Cutters in England are exposed; only with this Difference, that the Negroes eat wholsomer Bread and better Pork with more Plenty and Ease; and when they are Sick, their Owners Interest and Purse are deeply engaged in their Recovery, who likewise are obliged to take all the Care imaginable of the Children of their Slaves for their own great Profit; so that the Negroes, though they work moderate ly, yet live plentifully, have no Families to provide for, no Danger of Beggary, no Care for the Morrow.2* Jones's discussion establishes three notions which appear again and again in pro-slavery publications: first, that the black is physically equipped not only to perform hard labor but to enjoy it; second, that his condition is better as a slave in America than as a free man in his native country; and third, because he is inclined to be "lazy, haughty and obstinate" and because he possesses less intel ligence and capacity than an Indian, he is, by extension, fit to be little more than a slave. Clearly this is the implication of Jones's comments regarding the black slaves at William and Mary College: There is very great Occasion for a Quarter for the Negroes and inferior Servants belonging to the College; for these not only take up a great deal of Room and are noisy and nasty, but also have made me and others apprehensive of the great Danger of 267 being burnt with the College, thro' their Carelesness [sic] and Drowsiness.25 But Jones's deepest feelings about black slaves are revealed, interestingly enough, through his references to white indentured ser vants in the colony, a type of humanity which later generations would disparagingly label white trash. "For the generality," Jones de clares, "the Servants and inferior Sort of People, who have either been sent over to Virginia, or have transported themselves thither, have been, and are, the poorest, idlest, and worst of Mankind, the Refuse of Great Britain and Ireland, and the Outcast of the People." He seems almost relieved to know that "these Servants are but an insignificant Number, when compared with the vast Shoals of Negroes who are imployed as Slaves to do the hardest and most Part of the Work." But then Jones makes this curious preachment: "To me it seems to be more Prudence and Charity for our own Poor and Vagabonds to be there imployed and provided for, than for us to maintain and use such great Numbers of Africans.” While Jones’ s recommendation has a human itarian basis, his sensitivities are divorced from the condition of blacks. He is concerned only that "Shoals of Beggars" in Britain are "suffer[ed] to [be] consume[d] with Laziness and Want" while black slaves in America "work moderately, yet live plentifully."26 All of this underscores the horrifying degree to which blacks were exploited — even as early as 1720— and the utter lack of value assigned to black lives and accomplishments. The "good Laws” to which Jones refers— those used to maintain "control by severe Discipline"— had become formalized throughout the Southern colonies by the 1730s. John Brickell, in The Natural History 268 of North-Carolina (1737), writes that "the Planters seeing the Incon- veniencies that might attend [improper] Priviledges to the Negroes," carefully established laws "to prevent all Opportunities they might lay hold of to make themselves formidable." Brickell points to one law in particular: If a Negroe cut or wound his Master or a Christian with any unlawful Weapon, such as a Sword, Cymiter, or even a Knife, and there is Blood-shed, if it is known amongst the Planters, they immediately meet and order him to be hanged, which is always performed by another Negroe, and generally the Plan ters bring most of their Negroes with them to behold their Fellow Negroe suffer, to deter them from the like vile Prac tice. This Law may seem to be too harsh amongst us, to put a Man to death for Blood-shed only, yet if the severest Laws were not strictly put in execution against these People, they would soon overcome the Christians in this and most of the other Provinces in the Hands of the English.27 Indeed, a clear implication of Brickell's discussion of slavery is that the control of the slaveholder extended to virtually every aspect of the slave's existence. Regarding the planters "so chari table as to have the[ir] Negroes . . . baptized and instructed in the Christian Faith," Brickell assures his audience that "this Freedom does not in the least exempt them [the blacks] from their Master's Servitude, whatever others may imagine to the contrary." The planter determined what his slaves did or did not wear, often to his economic benefit: "The Children of both sexes wear little or no Cloaths," says Brickell, "except in the Winter, and many of the young Men and Women work stark naked in the Plantations in the hot Season, except a piece of Cloath (out of decency) to cover their Nakedness; upon which Ac count they are not very expensive to the Planters for their Cloath- ing." The planter even controlled his slaves' marriages and sexual 269 relationships, often breeding them like animals. In Brickell's unin tentionally chilling words: Their marriages are generally performed amongst themselves, there being very little ceremony used upon that Head. ... It frequently happens, when these Women have no Children by the first Husband, after being a Year or two cohabiting together, the Planters oblige them to take a second, third, fourth, fifth, or more Husbands or Bedfellows; a fruitful Woman amongst them being very much valued by the Planters, and a numerous Issue esteemed the greatest Riches in this Country. The Children all go with the Mother, and are the Property of the Planter to whom she belongs. Finally, regarding the blacks who "frequently run away from their Masters into the Woods," Brickell nonchalantly observes that "the Indian Kings are sent for on these Occasions," who "never cease pursuing" until "they destroy or hunt [the blacks] out of the Woods." In fact, declares Brickell, "these Negroes whenever they find the Indians in pursuit of them, they return, and chuse rather to submit to the Christians, whom they have injured, than fall into the Hands of the others, who have a natural aversion to the Negroes, and take Pleasure in putting them to the most exquisite Torments."29 Tragical ly, otherwise sensitive whites were— and perhaps still are— slow to decry this playing off of one racial minority against another. As was mentioned earlier, nothing was more threatening to those whites who supported institutionalized slavery than the fact of black humanity. On the rare occasions when a pro-slavery document alludes to black literacy, it hastens to assure the reader that such is a rarity, that it is easily controlled by an alert master, or that it may actually work to the plantation's benefit.30 Recognizing the vul nerability of self-righteous slaveholders to evidences of black human ity— and recognizing further the inherent moral power of their posi 270 tion— abolitionists repeatedly struck at the myths of black stupid ity and barbarity, arguing the causative role of repression, coercion and chains where these existed. Thomas Bluett's Some Memoirs of the Life of Job, the Son of Sol omon the High Priest of Boonda (1734) is a case in point. Bluett's narrative has two purposes: to prove the existence of rather highly- developed cultures among the West African tribes and to show that "Job,” counted among the royalty of his tribe, possessed a keen and remarkable intellect. Bluett seeks to accomplish his first aim by proving generally-held notions of black society false: that modesty and shame are contrary to black culture, for example, or that black religion is comprised of pagan ritual contrary to scripture and reason. Regarding black modesty, Bluett states that African women are so modest that "they will never permit their Husbands to see them without a Vail on for three Years after they are married"; that be cause Job had been married only two years before being enslaved, he had, in fact, never seen his wife "unveiled since Marriage" even though he "ha[d] a Daughter by [her]." And Bluett shows that not only is there order to black religious practices, but that they bear close resemblance to Jewish rites recorded in the New Testament.31 Bluett praises Job's "natural Temper," characterized by "a happy Misture of the Grave and the Chearful, a gentle Mildness, guarded by a proper Warmth, and a kind and compassionate Disposition"; he then describes Job's intelligence in the following terms: His Memory was extraordinary; for when he was fifteen Years old he could say the whole Alcoran by heart, and while he was here in England he wrote three Copies of it without . . . As sistance. . . . 271 In Conversation he was commonly very pleasant; and would every now and then divert the Company with some witty Turn, or pretty Story, but never to the Prejudice of Religion, or good Manners. . . . It was [only] with great Difficulty that he could be brought to sit for his [Picture], . . . When the Face was fin ished, Mr. Hoare ask'd what Dress would be most proper to draw him in; and, upon JOB'S desiring to be drawn in his own Country Dress, told him he could not draw it, unless he had seen it, or had it described to him by one who had: Upon which JOB answered, If you can't draw a Dress you never saw, why do some of you[r] Painters presume to draw God, whom no one ever saw? . . . Several more of his smart Repartees in Company, . . . shewed him to be a Man of Wit and Humour, as well as good Sense.32 In a letter addressed "To the Inhabitants of Maryland, Virginia, North[-] and South-Carolina" (1740), the British minister George Whitefield condemned Southerners for treating their slaves worse than their Horses. "These," he declares, after they have done their Work, are fed and taken proper Care of; but many Negroes when wearied with Labour in your Plantations, have been obliged to grind their own Corn after they return home." He continues: I must inform you in the Meekness and Gentleness of Christ, that I think God has a Quarrel with you for your abuse of and Cruelty to the poor Negroes. Whether it be lawful for Chris tians to buy Slaves, and thereby encourage the Nations from whom they are bought, to be at perpetual War with each other, I shall not take upon me to determine; sure I am, it is sin ful, when bought, to use them as bad, nay worse, than as though they were Brutes. . . . It might be better for the poor Creatures themselves, to be hurried out of Life, than to be made so miserable, as they generally are in it. And indeed, considering what Usage they commonly meet with, I have wondered, that we have not more Instances of Self-Murder among the Negroes, or that they have not more frequently rose up in Arms against their Owners.33 After admitting that his "blood has frequently almost run cold" when he has considered the fact that many slaves "had neither con venient Food to eat or proper Raiment to put on," despite the fact that "most of the Comforts" enjoyed by the whites "were solely owing 272 to their [slaves'] indefatigable Labours," Whitefield declares that "enslaving or misusing their Bodies would, comparatively speaking, be an inconsiderable Evil, was proper Care taken of their Souls. But I iave great reason to believe," he continues, speaking of secular as well as spiritual literacy, "that most of you, on Purpose, keep your I *5 A Negroes ignorant."0* Elsewhere he writes: "[I am] more and more con- jvince[d] . . . that the Negroes Children, if early brought up in the iNurture and Admonition of the LORD, would make as great a proficiency as any white People's Children whatsoever."®® The complete absence of freedom or opportunity accorded to black slaves is underscored, ironically, by various accounts of white slav ery which appeared during the mid-1700s, accounts such as the anon ymous British novel, Memoirs of an Unfortunate Young Nobleman, Re turn'd from a Thirteen Years Slavery in America (1743). This is the story of a young man bound out by his wicked uncle to an American plantation owner widely known for his cruelty; its author describes American white slavery in this way: The Hardships of an American Slavery ... is infinitely more terrible than a Turkish one, frightful as it is represented; for besides the incessant Toil they undergo, the Nature of their Labour is such, that they are obliged to be continually exposed to the Air, which is unwholesome enough, the Heats and Colds which the different Seasons of the Year bring on these Parts, being far greater than any we know in Europe. . . . The [slavemaster takes] a Delight in heig[h]t[e]ning [his slaves’ ] Calamities. Nor Age, nor Sex, nor the Accidents which [occasion] their being in his Power, [can] move him to the least Compassion, but on the contrary, those [receive] the worst Treatment from him that [are] entitled to the best.®® The author's summary comment on the condition of white indentured servants was probably designed as a warning to hapless miscreants and 273 debtors who believed their problems would be solved by crossing the Atlantic. But if the description applied to men who would always (maintain some degree of control over their own lives, how much more tragically and forcefully could it be applied to the situation of black slaves: "Those therefore who are so unhappy," says the author, "either by their own Inadvertency or the Cruelty of others, to be sent thither [to America], have no real Remedy but Patience, since, in seeking any other, they but prolong their Misery, and give a Shew of Justice to the Persecutions inflicted on them."37 Most of the pro-slavery documents published during the 1730s and 1740s seem hastily written; though the fact that they are written on a crumbling morality is indisputable, they nevertheless lack any de gree of depth or controlled rationale, answering specific charges with defensive generalities, facts with invectives. One such document is Alexander Garden's response to Whitefield's attack on slavery, Six Letters to the Rev. Mr. George Whitefield (1740). Not only does Gar den fail to support his own assertions, he illogically dismisses Whitefield's charges on the grounds that Whitefield is a meddler and an outsider: Your Charge [that the black slaves are treated as Brutes] is false and injurious! and . . . the very Reverse of it is true, viz. that what particular Exceptions soever there may be as to good Usage of Slaves (as some doubtless there are) yet . . . the Generality of Owners use their Slaves with all due Humanity, whether in respect of Work, of Food, or Raiment. And therefore I farther think and believe, that the General ity of Owners of Slaves in the respective Colonies, may bring their Actions of Slander against you; and that in a certain Country I know, you wou'd be indicted for meddling, as you have done in this Matter, which may endanger the peace and Safety of the Community.38 274 Undoubtedly, much of Garden's anger derives from white fears and suspicions of the blacks. Indeed, such fears so permeated white so ciety that the abolitionists themselves often fell victim to them. Seorge Whitefield, for example, weakens his arguments against slavery (quoted earlier) with Mather-inspired declarations— "I challenge the whole World to produce a single Instance of a Negroe's being made a thorough Christian, and thereby made a worse Servant"— and racist supplications — "I heartily pray God they [the Negroes who rise up in Arms against their owners] may never be permitted to get the upper Hand; yet should such a Thing be permitted by Providence, all good Men must acknowledge the Judgment would be just."^ And Whitefield's hidden fears of the blacks are revealed by his recording in his jour nal— only five days after noting his full confidence in black po tential— a brief narrative of a horseback journey with a small com pany of travelers who lost their way on a moonless night. He remem bers that they approached a cottage for directions only to discover it to be "a Hut full of Negroes"; he and his companions imagined the blacks to be "some of those who lately had made an insurrection in the Province": [We] therefore thought it best to mend our Pace. Soon after, we saw another great Fire near the Road Side; but imagining there was another Nest of such Negroes, we made a Circuit into the Woods.— One of my Friends, at a Distance, observed them Dancing round the Fire. The Moon [now] shining bright, we soon found our Way . . . and after we had gone about a Dozen Miles, expecting to find Negroes in every place, we came to a great Plantation, the Master of which to our great Comfort, . . . gave us Satisfaction about the Negroes, in formed us whose they were, and upon what Occasion they were in those Places in which we found them.^0 275 In other words, the dissemination of abolitionist ideals— though eventually exerting untold influence on the colonial conscience and on America's developing social morality— did not immediately dispel white defensiveness, anxiety or fear, even in the North or even among abolitionists themselves. In fact, the immediate effects of the move ment were sometimes just the opposite. Between 1665 and 1690, for ex ample, the first laws were passed in Virginia and Maryland which dis tinguished between the rights of white servants and black servants and which forbade all marriages between blacks and whites. These laws seem motivated in part by initial British and American criticisms of black slavery. Laws which consciously limited the rights and freedoms of black slaves and which gradually resulted in institutionalized slavery were most assuredly the answers of plantation owners to pub lic censure of slavery, slave treatment, and slave economy.41 Even in the North, where public sentiment was increasingly opposed to slavery and where free blacks were provided harbor, if not full acceptance, suspicions of and misgivings towards the blacks persisted. Indeed, Edgar McManus argues that the relatively unhindered in teraction between slaves and free blacks in the Northern cities aug mented the fears of whites who lived there and who had long been con vinced that, even when protected from the "dangerous" ideas of free blacks or from the envy induced by associating with them, a "large slave population had numerous opportunities for conspiracy."42 Whe ther perceived or real, threats to the well-being of white society often negated the otherwise convincing rationale of anti-slavery rhe 276 toric. In 1712, for example, a small group of slaves in New York City staged "what turned out to be a badly executed but nevertheless bloody insurrection": Preparations for the uprising were a well-kept secret, with recruits bound to silence by primitive but effective oaths. Early in April, twenty-four of the conspirators met in an orchard on the northern outskirts of the town where muskets and other weapons had been cached. After arming themselves, they set fire to a nearby building and then took cover behind the trees. When the alarm was given and whites began to hurry toward the blaze, the slaves opened fire, killing five and wounding six. The whites who escaped the ambush returned to the town to arm themselves and alert the garrison. By the time the soldiers arrived, however, the townspeople had al ready counterattacked and driven the hopelessly outnumbered slaves into the woods. . . . The plight of these fugitives soon became desperate, for the woods offered neither shelter nor food. In the end, the principal leaders of the rebels committed suicide, and the rest, half-mad from hunger, sur rendered. A total of seventy negroes, counting those arrested outside New York City, were jailed within two weeks of the uprising.43 Although specific details of the "1712 Conspiracy" were soon forgotten, with free blacks throughout the northern colonies grad ually (and predictably) being accepted as menial laborers in the working class, an underlying distrust of blacks persisted among whites in New York and other increasingly populous northern cities. And so when rumors of a second conspiracy swept New York twenty-nine years later, in 1741, the city was gripped by a bizarre paranoia. A parade of trials followed which, in their accompanying melodrama and hysteria, rivaled the Salem witch hearings of fifty years earlier. A total of 175 persons were committed to prison, 155 blacks and 20 whites. Of these, 31 blacks and four whites were executed (22 hanged and 13 burned), 71 blacks were transported from the country, and 8 whites were evicted from the province.44 277 The most complete account of the "Conspiracy of 1741"— which represents black/white relations during the mid~1700s in much the same way the "Lancaster Incident" embodies Indian/white relations of the same period— is provided by Daniel Horsmanden's A Journal of the Proceedings in the Detection of the Conspiracy (1744). Horsmanden was one of the presiding justices at the ensuing trials; his account is accordingly biased in favor of his own judgments in the case. It is nonetheless to his credit that his virtually complete transcriptions of all testimonies and other court proceedings allow a modern reader to see the manipulation of witnesses, facts and confessions by Hors manden and the other justices. As nearly as can be determined from Horsmanden, the case began with a robbery: a quantity of Spanish gold pieces, linens and other goods were stolen from Mrs. Robert Hogg late in February, 1741, by three slaves known as Caesar, Cuffee, and Prince. The three had ap parently been involved in previous robberies as well, invariably dis posing of their booty through four whites— John and Sarah Hughson, who owned a seedy tavern/brothel on the Hudson River; Peggy Kerry [Carey], one of the Hughson's "girls" and Caesar's mistress (he hav ing fathered a child by her); and John Romme, a shoemaker. All this was disclosed by Mary Burton, a sixteen-year-old indentured servant to the Hughsons, who was promised immunity if she confessed what she knew. The three blacks, the Hughsons and Kerry were jailed; Romme skipped town.^5 About two weeks later, a series of fires in the city— some whose causes apparently were inexplicable— set whites in panic. It wasn't 278 long before several of the fires were ascribed to black sailors from a captured Spanish main, who, despite their insisting that they were freemen, had been sold into slavery in the city; these men had subse quently "spoke[n] openly of the injustice done them," and some had threatened revenge.^® Humors began circulating that perhaps the Hugh sons had been involved in more than a simple robbery ring; Mary Bur ton was called in for further questioning. At first she said nothing, but— according to Wood Clarke— when she was promised that, by telling her questioners what they wanted to hear, she "would be given her liberty from her master, . . . pardoned for any part she had taken in the affair and . . . given one hundred pounds," her "tongue and her imagination were loosened."47 The testimony Burton concocted over a period of several months was that John Hughson had "by Degrees deluded [a Number of Negroes] to engage in the Conspiracy, upon his Promises, that they should all be Freemen, and that other fine Things should be done for them," and that he "bound them to their Engagements by horrible Oaths." Their specific "engagements" were to destroy this City by Fire, and massacre the Inhabitants: That the Fire was to be put to several Quarters of the Town, at one and the same Time: That the English Church was to be set on Fire, at a Time when 'twas most likely there would be the fullest Congregation, and the Avenues from the Church were to be guarded by these Ruffians, in order to butcher those that should attempt to escape the Flames.48 John Ury, a white schoolmaster and a friend of a certain Mr. Campbell who took possession of the Hughsons1 home following their incarceration, was later implicated by Burton; he was accused of being a practicing Jesuit and of "swearing the White Conspirators" as 279 they stood in a ring around him, "he, while the Oath administ[e]ring, holding a Crucifix over their Heads."49 Despite his unchanging in sistence upon his innocence, Ury was convicted of the charges against him; soon after the executions of John and Sarah Hughson and Peggy Kerry, he was also hanged. During the course of the trial, accused slaves were promised immunity if they would "make full confessions," which, as it was soon learned, meant implicating other blacks. In rather short order, local jails were filled to overflowing, and the entire papulation of the city, black and white, was in a perpetual state of anxiety. Like her predecessors at Salem, however, Mary Burton eventually pushed her newly-acquired fame and influence too far: she began accusing certain of the city's founding fathers whose lives were known to be beyond reproof. The trials were abruptly concluded. Burton was given her reward and excused, and the deportations/releases of the remaining prisoners were expedited. Despite its windy technicality, Horsmanden's account was un doubtedly read as a contemporary "potboiler"; interestingly, the most lurid details about its principal characters often provide the most significant information regarding black/white relations of the mid- 1700s. John Hughson, for example, the "Instigator of [the] Deeds of Darkness amongst the Slaves," is described as "having kept a publick House for some Years," a place "where Numbers of Negroes used to re sort"— often "20, 30, 40 or 50 at a Time"— and where they were "entertained privately (in Defiance of the Laws) at all Hours." Hugh son is not castigated by white society for having managed a brothel 280 so much for having entertained blacks there. Similarly, Horsmanden indignantly observes that Peggy Kerry "pretended to be married, but no Husband appeared"; that she was "a Person of infamous Character, a notorious Prostitute, and also of the worst Sort, a Prostitute to Negroes"; and that she was "lodged and supported by Caesar, . . . big with Child by [him], as was supposed, and was brought to Bed . . . not many Days before the Robbery at Hoggs, of a Babe largely partaking of a motley Complexion."50 Again, what made Kerry highly suspect was not simply that she was a prostitute, but that she was a "prostitute to Negroes"— and that she had been careless or brazen enough to be come pregnant with a black man's child. Regarding Dry's involvement, Horsmanden writes: "Though the mys tery of iniquity has been unfolding by very small and slow degrees, it has at length been discovered that popery was at the bottom, and the old proverb has herein also been verified that there is scarce a plot but a priest is at the bottom of it."51 Ury was said to have become acquainted with Hughson and his plot through Kerry— "she being a profest Papist might [have] disclosed it [in confession] to the Priest"; Ury supposedly persuaded uneasy blacks to whom he ad ministered secret oaths that " the French and Spaniards were soon to come and join them." And if any of the blacks "were squeamish," he could "forgive Sins, and did forgive them all they had committed, or should commit, provided they performed what they had engaged in, and kept all secret to their last Breath."52 After the affair has been concluded, Horsmanden's recommendation to the inhabitants of New York is that they "ought once a Year at 281 least, to pay [a] Tribute of Praise and Thanksgiving to the Divine BEING," who, through his merciful Providence and infinite Goodness, caused this inhumane horrible Enterprize to be detected, and so many of the wicked Instruments of it to be brought to Justice, whereby a Check has been put to the execrable Malice, and bloody Purposes of . . . Foreign and Domestick Enemies.53 But a modern reader, unmoved by Horsmanden's rhetoric, is likely to see the lengthy trial as little more than a sideshow of eighteenth- century hobgoblins: slave conspiracies; white duplicity and treachery in the name of "black sympathy"; Catholic-sponsored subversion, per haps with Spanish or French backing; pagan oaths and secret rituals; interracial socialization and sexual congress; miscegenation. Because these elicited simultaneous fascination and terror in an eighteenth- century world— and precisely because they were considered bugbears — we learn that free blacks of the mid-1700s were free in name only, that blacks and whites of this period inhabited mutually exclusive worlds, even in the North. Small wonder, then, that the Reverend Thomas Bacon was informing a congregation of Maryland slaves in 1749 that they were expected to serve their masters " with Chearfulness, and Reverence, and Humility* ' and that in giving such service, they were to keep in mind "one gen eral Rule": To do all Service for THEM [your Masters and Mistresses], as if you did it for GOD himself— Poor Creatures! you little consider, when you are idle and neglectful of your Master's Business,— when you steal, and waste, and hurt any of their Substance,— when you are saucy and impudent,— when you are telling them Lies, and deceiving them,— or when you prove stubborn or sullen, and will not do the Work you are set about without Stripes and Vexation;— you do not consider, I say, that what Faults you are guilty of towards your Masters and Mistresses, are Faults done against GOD himself, who hath 282 set your Masters and Mistresses over you, in his own Stead, and expects that you will do for them, just as you would do for Him.— 54 Bacon's twisted version of the Golden Rule sets up God as a "master" over "slaves," thereby implying divine approval of the master/slave relationship. More chillingly, it establishes the flesh-and-blood masters of blacks as "gods" set over them by God himself; and, by ex tension, protects their actions and will, no matter how gross or worldly, from reproof, criticism or association with evil. Bacon's sermon makes explicit what was only suggested by "Conspiracy of 1741" trials: that the "safe" or "good" black is cheerful, obedient and — above all— subservient. There were few practical differences, then, in the status of a Northern as opposed to a Southern black: for although "free blacks" supposedly found sanctuary in the North, their acceptance into North ern society was virtually blocked by white prejudice. Indeed, until the late 1860s, when humanitarian fervor was generated by the im minent Revolution, the attitudes of Northern whites towards all blacks, bond or free, generally mirrored the emotions of their South ern counterparts. Thus, it is partially understandable why later gen erations in the South were resentful towards what they interpreted as a Northern "about-face" or a hypocritical repentance. Simply put, participation in the slave trade had not been limited to the South; instead, as Stampp observes, the "middle colonies" had traditionally "purchased a substantial number of Negroes" annually. And "if only a few New Englanders became slaveholders," it was also true that "some merchants of Newport, Providence, Boston, and Salem were vigorous and 283 eminently successful participants" in the trade with the South. And therefore, says Stampp, it was difficult for later Southerners to forget that "the ancestors of the abolitionists had helped to keep them well supplied with slaves."55 Beginning in the late 1740s a crucial new argument surfaced in Quaker anti-slavery literature. Whereas former arguments, consisting primarily of proofs of black intelligence and accomplishment or ap peals to slaveowners' compassion, had elicited only sarcastic or bit ter responses, the new appeals were to the well-being and dignity of the slaveowner himself. This theme is only hinted at in the first edition of Observations On the Inslaving, importing and purchasing of Negroes (1748), extracted from minutes of the annual Quaker confer ence held in London: "The Trade ... is destructive of the Welfare of human Society," it declares, "and inconsistent with the Peace and Prosperity of a Country." But a second edition, published in 1760, is much more explicit: We fervently warn all in profession with us, that they be careful to avoid being any Way concerned in reaping the un righteous Profit arising from that iniquitous Practice of dealing in Negroes and other Slaves; . . . which hath often been observed, to fill their Possessors with Haughtiness, Tyranny, Luxury and Barbarity, corrupting the Minds, and de basing the Morals of their Children, to the unspeakable Pre judices of Religion and Virtue, and the Exclusion of that holy Spirit of universal Love, Meekness and Charity, which is the unchangeable Nature S c the Glory of true Christianity.56 John Woolman explored similar themes two years later in Con siderations on Keeping Negroes (1762), one of the most gracefully written of all abolitionist documents. Though his tone is diplomatic, 284 never brashpr judgmental, Woolman's arguments against slavery remain some of the most rational and profound ever written. In his preface, Woolman admits the logic behind several argu ments for keeping slaves, the "good master" theory chief among them: While we have no Right to keep Men as Servants for Term of Life, but that of superior Power; to do this, with Design by their Labour to profit ourselves and our Families, I believe is wrong; but I do not believe that all who have kept Slaves, have therefore been chargeable with Guilt. If their Motives thereto were free from Selfishness, and their Slaves content, they were a Sort of Freemen; which I believe hath sometimes been the Case.57 But observing that "when that which is inconsistent with perfect Equity, hath the Law," a people will "have many Difficulties to en counter," Woolman quickly leads up to a major thesis of his essay: It looks to me that the Slave Trade was founded, and hath generally been carried on, in a wrong Spirit; that the Ef fects of it are detrimental to the real Prosperity of our Country; and will be more so, except we cease from the common Motives of keeping them, and treat them in future agreeable to Truth and pure Justice.58 Having established the generally evil nature of all slavery through this and other arguments, Woolman addresses what might be called the psychology of slavery, focusing on master/slave relation ships. Noting that blacks "who have had an agreeable Education," have also "manifested a Brightness of Understanding equal to many of us," and condemning the "force of long Custom" which has connected "the Idea of Slavery" with "the Black Colour, and Liberty with the White," Woolman insists that the race "of a Man avails nothing, in Matters of Right and Equity." Therefore, he argues, a central flaw of any system of slavery is that forced Subjection, on innocent Persons of full Age, is incon sistent with right Reason; on one Side, the human Mind is not 285 naturally fortified with that Firmness in Wisdom and Good ness, necessary to an independent Ruler; on the other Side, to be subject to the uncontroulable Will of a Man, liable to err, is most painful and afflicting to a conscientious Crea ture.59 Rather than exploring the effects of slavery only on the slave, as had been the practice of most anti-slavery writings in the past, Woolman uses the example set by the new Quaker tradition and de scribes what repression and cruelty do to the slaveowner: Placing on Men the ignominious Title SLAVE, dressing them in uncomely Garments, keeping them to servile Labour, in which they are often dirty, tends gradually to fix a Notion in the Mind, that they are a Sort of People below us in Nature, and leads us to consider them as such in all our Conclusions about them. And, moreover, a Person which in our Esteem is mean and contemptible, if their Language or Behaviour toward us is unseemly or disrespectful, it excites Wrath more power fully than the like Conduct in one we accounted our Equal or Superior.60 The end result, argues Woolman, is that "he whose Wants are supplied without [his] feeling any Obligation to make equal Returns to his benefactor" soon discovers that "his irregular Appetites" have found "an open Field for Motion," and that he "is in Danger of growing hard, and inattentive to their Convenience who labour for his Support; and so loses that Disposition, in which alone Men are fit to govern."61 Woolman believes that "the disposition to govern" ends where "luxury" begins; once again, the focus of his argument is the well being of the slave owner. Although the conclusion of his essay is directed exclusively to whites, a plea that they will live "in true Gospel Simplicity, free from all wrong Use of Things," the clear im plication is that the status derives from his treatment by the whites and that negligent whites will answer for the slave's misery as well as their own: 286 Such is the Kindness of our Creator, that People, apply ing their Minds to sound Wisdom, may, in general, with mod erate Exercise, live comfortably, where no misapplied Power hinders it.— We in these Parts have Cause gratefully to ac knowledge it. But Men leaving the true Use of Things, their Lives are less calm, and have less of real Happiness in them. Many are desirous of purchasing and keeping Slaves, that they may live in some Measure conformable to those Customs of the Times, which have in them a Tincture of Luxury; for when we, in the least Degree, depart from that Use of the Crea tures, which the Creator of all Things intended for them, there Luxury begins. . . . A Covetous Mind, which seeks Opportunity to exalt itself, is a great Enemy to true Harmony in a Country: Envy and Grudging usually accompany this Disposition, and it tends to stir up its Likeness in others. And where this Disposition ariseth so high, as to embolden us to look upon honest indus trious Men as our own property during Life, and to keep them to hard Labour, to support us in those Customs which have not their Foundation in right Reason,- or to use any Means of Op pression, a haughty Spirit is cherished on one Side, and the Desire of Revenge frequently on the other, till the Inhabi tants of the Land are ripe for great Commotion and Trouble; and thus Luxury and Oppression have the Seeds of War and De solation in them.6 ^ But perhaps the man who most successfully adopted the "new rea soning" of the Quaker anti-slavery writers was Anthony Benezet, Eng lish Master at the Society of Friends' Academy in Philadelphia. A slight man but a skilled and prolific essayist, Benezet became the unofficial voice of the colonial abolition movement after 1760.63 His first major publication, A Short Account Of that Part of Africa, Inhabited by the Negroes (1762), is a compilation of excerpts from various books and pamphlets written against the slave trade; Benezet focuses primarily on writers who have been eyewitnesses to what they describe. As Bruns has emphasized, the pamphlet represents "a major effort to bring together writings of philosophers, jurists, and Eng lish, French and Dutch factors who had worked in Africa to prove that blacks were 'different from the stupified and malicious People some 287 would have thought them to be.'"64 The long Introduction and conclu sion to the pamphlet were written by Benezet himself; in the former, he outlines his purpose as follows: The End proposed by this Essay, is to lay before the candid Reader the Depth of Evil attending this iniquitous Practice, in the Prosecution of which, our Duty to GOD, the common Fa ther of the Family of the whole Earth, and our Duty of Love to our Fellow Creatures, is totally disregarded; all social Connection and tender Ties of Nature being broken, Desolation and Bloodshed continually fomented in those unhappy People's Country. It is also intended to invalidate the false Argu ments, which are frequently advanced, for the Palliation of this Trade, in Hopes it may be some Inducement to those who are not defiled therewith to keep themselves clear; and to lay before such as have unwarily engaged in it, their Danger of totally losing that tender Sensibility to the Sufferings of their Fellow Creatures, the Want whereof sets Men beneath the Brute Creation.65 Benezet's appeal is to the reader's compassion, but only by way of the reader's pride and sense of self. In asserting that the loss of "sensitivity to suffering" lowers man to a sub-animalistic level, Benezet goes much further than Woolman or his predecessors in con demning the effects of slavery on the white character; Benezet's is the theme followed by virtually all subsequent abolitionist writers. A Short Account Of that Part of Africa, however, is not simply a tirade against slavery or an analysis of its influences on white so ciety. Having established that a culture governed by the ideal of true equality is richer, stronger and more enduring than one which sanctions slavery, Benezet attempts to capitalize on the "rights of man" fervor possessing many colonists during the 1760s— and on Amer ican practicality— when, in his conclusion, he suggests a plan for freeing and subsequently governing black slaves. To return them to Africa, he declares, "would be to expose them in a strange land to 288 greater difficulties than many of them labour under at present"; to "set them suddenly free" in the American colonies, he believes, might be "attended with no less difficulty; for undisciplined as they are in religion and virtue, they might give a loose to those evil habits, which the fear of a master would have restrained." He argues instead that "if the government was so considerate of the iniquity and danger attending on this practice as to be willing to seek a remedy, doubt less, the Almighty would bless this good intention, and such methods would be thought of, as would not only put an end to the unjust op pression of the Negroes, but . . . would enable them to become profit able members of society." In this context, he makes the following suggestions: In the first place, let all farther Importation of Slaves be absolutely prohibited, and as to those Slaves already pur chased, or born among us, after serving so long as shall be adequate to the Money paid, or the charge of bringing them up, . . . let them by law be declared Free. Let every Slave thus set free be enrolled in the County Court, and obliged to be a Resident during a certain Number of Years within the said County, under the Inspection of the Overseers of the Poor. Thus . . . they would be obliged to act circumspectly, and make proper Use of their liberty, and their Children have an Opportunity of such Instruction as [is necessary to the common occasions of life]; thus both Parents and Children might grow up to be useful Members of the Community. And further, . . . suppose a small tract of land [in our southern or most western colonies] were assigned to every Negro Family, and they obliged to live upon and improve it, (when not hired out to work for the Whites) this would en courage them to exert their Abilities, and become industrious Subjects: Thus both Planters and Tradesmen would be plenti fully supplied with chearful and willing-minded Labourers, much vacant Land would be cultivated; the Produce of the country be justly encreased; Arts and Manufactures advanced; the Taxes for the Support of Government lessened to Individ uals by the encrease of Taxables. And the Negroes instead of giving just Cause of fearful Apprehensions, and weak[e]ning the internal Strength of the Government where they reside, as they certainly must in their present Condition, would become interested in its Security and Welfare.66 289 Benezet returned to this proposal again and again in his writ ings, modifying it, expanding it, defending it. To a modern reader, it seems simplistic, insensitive and even racist. But one must con sider how revolutionary it must have appeared to the eighteenth- century colonist for whom the eventual manumission of slaves was only the remotest of possibilities— and for whom the notion of permitting freed slaves to remain on American soil was terrifying, if not simply mad. And so, more than twenty years after the proposal was originally published, some of Benezet's closest friends continued to debate its merits.67 Indeed, not until Noah Webster's Effects of Slavery on Morals and Industry was published in 1793 would a more thoughtful or workable plan for black emancipation appear— and even then, the in fluence of Benezet's original proposal on Webster is obvious. Benezet's purpose in subsequent writings, as exemplified by A Caution and Warning to great Britain and Her Colonies (1766), seems threefold: first, to prove that the blacks, equally with the whites, are capable of acquiring and demonstrating intelligence; conversely, to illustrate that that whites are at least equal to the blacks— if they do not indeed surpass them— in their capacity for cruelty and barbarism; and finally, to illustrate the danger of ignoring the im plications of either of these two propositions. With regard to black intelligence and sensibility, Benezet acknowledges that for those "who have only seen Negroes in an abject state of slavery, broken- spirited and dejected"— and who know nothing of the condition of blacks in their homeland— may be convinced that their slaves "are naturally unsensible of the benefits of Liberty, being destitute and 290 miserable in every respect." Further, they may believe that their "suffering [the blacks] to live amongst [them], tho' even on . . . op pressive terms, is to them a favour." Quickly dismissing this belief as the fruit of ignorance, dupli city and falsehood, Benezet insists that "the most authentic accounts" show "the inhabitants of Guinea" to be "an industrious, humane, soci able people, whose capacities are naturally as enlarged, and as open to improvement, as those of the Europeans." In addition, "their Coun try is fruitful, and in many places well improved, abounding in cat tle, grain and fruits."68 Though Benezet admits the existence of black barbarism, he is convinced that much of it is induced by white cruelty or by the slave trade itself. "Those who are acquainted with the trade agree," he writes, "that many Negroes on the sea-coast, who have been corrupted by their intercourse and converse with the European Factors, have learnt to stick at no act of cruelty for gain." These blacks, he says, make it a practice to steal abundance of little Blacks of both sexes, when found on the roads or in the fields, where their parents keep them all day to watch the corn, &c. Some authors say the Negroe Factors go six or seven hudnred miles up the country with goods, bought from the Europeans, where markets of men are kept in the same manner as those of beasts with us.69 Arguing that the "Negro Factors" persist in their crimes only because unscrupulous whites have created a market, Benezet lays further blame at the feet of the white traders when he shows that, in contrast with black crimes, those of the whites are far more cruel, shocking and heinous: 291 When the poor slaves, whether brought from far or near, come to the sea-shore, they are stripped naked, and strictly ex amined by the European Surgeons, both men and women, without the least distinction or modesty; those which are approved as good, are marked with a red-hot iron with the ship's mark, after which they are put on board the vessels, the men being shackled with irons two and two together. . . . Reflect, that each individual of this number had some tender attachment which was broken by this cruel separation; some parent or wife, who had not an opportunity of mingling tears in a part ing embrace: perhaps some infant or aged parent whom his la bour was to feed [or] protect; . . . [but that all are never theless] pent up within the narrow confines of a vessel, sometimes six or seven hundred together, where they lie as close as possible. Under these complicated distresses they are often reduced to a state of desperation, wherein many have leaped into the sea, and have kept themselves under water, till they were drowned; others have starved themselves to death, for the prevention whereof some masters of vessels have cut off the legs and arms of a number of those poor des perate creatures, to terrify the rest. Great numbers have also frequently been killed, and some deliberately put to death under the greatest torture, when they have attempted to rise, in order to free themselves from their present misery, and the slavery designed them.70 Because the slave trade is "inconsistent with the plainest pre cepts of the gospel, the dictates of reason, and every common senti ment of humanity," Benezet implies that it can only be carried on when black individuality and white self-respect are deliberately ig nored. Partially because of its inherent nature, and partially be cause of the hypocrisy and conscious deception it necessarily in volves, slavery is, in direct proportion to its prevalence, "destruc tive of the welfare of human society, and of the peace and prosperity of [the] country": It destroys the bonds of natural affection and interest, whereby mankind in general are united; ... it introuduces idleness, discourages marriage, corrupts the youth, ruins and debauches morals, excites continual apprehensions of dangers, and frequent alarms, to which the Whites are necessarily ex posed from so great an encrease of a people, that, by their bondage and oppressions, become natural enemies, yet, at the same time, are filling the places and eating the bread of 292 those who would be the support and security of the coun try.71 Benezet's Some Historical Account of Guinea (1771), which Bruns defends as "one of the most significant antislavery works of the eighteenth century," seems composed primarily to dispel white myths regarding the character and native culture of the African blacks. Bruns argues that the work portrays an "African Eden of plentiful food and temperate climate, enjoyed by innocent natives"; but that once the natives were "taken from their Eden," they were "broken by demeaning, rigorous labor, denied education, and . . . humiliated by a caste system that destroyed initiative, self-esteem and honor."72 Repeating the themes of A Caution and Warning, Benezet's 1771 essay emphasizes that the land of the native African is "so well cul tivated, scar[c]e a spot lay[s] unimproved"; that the natives are "a good sort of people, honest, hospitable, just to their word, labor ious, industrious, and very ready to learn arts and sciences"; that they treat one another— and their guests— with "a great deal of ci vility" and "are indeed as susceptible of modesty and shame as other people."7^ Regarding the "depravity" of blacks, he argues that their practice of "making war upon each other, and selling their captives" did not take place "till those bordering on the coast . . . had become corrupted, by their intercourse with the Europeans." He presents numerous instances of the barbaric treatment of blacks by whites, in cluding an account of a slave ship which caught fire and subsequently exploded, destroying 250 of its cargo of 500 slaves simply because the key to unlock the slaves' chains was missing; he describes the slave block, where "mothers are seen hanging over their daughters, 293 bedewing their naked breasts with tears, and daughters clinging to their parents, not knowing what new stage of distress must follow their separation, or whether they shall ever meet again." Benezet's clinching argument is as follows: Such is the woeful corruption of human nature, that every practice which flatters our pride and covetousness, will find its advocates; this is manifestly the case in the [slave trade]. . . . The savageness of the Negroes, in some of their customs, and particularly their . . . captivating and selling each other, gives their interested oppressors a pretence for representing them as unworthy of liberty, and the natural rights of mankind; but these sophisters turn the argument full upon themselves, when they instigate the poor creatrues to such shocking impiety, by every means that satanick sub- tilty can suggest; thereby shewing in their own conduct a more glaring proof of the same depravity. . . . This is no ex cuse for high professing Christians, . . . nor can it justify them in raising up fortunes to themselves, from the misery of others, and calmly projecting voyages for the seizure of men, naturally as free as themselves; and who, they know, are no[t] otherwise to be procured, than by such barbarous means, as none but those hardned [sic] wretches who are lost to every sense of Christian compassion, can make use of. He concludes with this observation on the slave trade and its central characters: "Let us diligently compare and impartially weigh the sit uation of those ignorant Negroes, and these enlightened Christians; then lift up the scale and say which of the two are the greater sav ages."74 Benezet's central themes of black/white equality and black in nocence/white guilt were intensified by the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the outbreak of the Revolution, and the eventual American victory. With the blacks still held captive as the Constitu tion was being drafted— with slavery, indeed, becoming more and more firmly entrenched in the South— white America stood condemned in its own hypocrisy as it began to recognize that slavery endangered the 294 future stability of the Union. This is the implicit message of Notes on the Slave Trade (1781), published only three years before Bene- zet’ s death. Some of the earlier fire is gone, but the insistence on equality remains unequivocal: It cannot be, that either war, or contract, can give any man such a property in another as he has in his sheep and oxen: Much less is it possible, that any child of man, should ever be born a Slave. Liberty is the right of every human creature, as soon as he breathes the vital air. And no human law can deprive him of that right, which he derives from the law of nature. If therefore you have any regard to justice, (to say nothing of mercy, nor of the revealed law of GOD) render unto all their due. Give Liberty to whom Liberty is due, that is to every child of man, to every partaker of human nature. Let none serve you but by his own act and deed, by his own volun tary choice, away with whips, chains, and all compulsion. Be gentle towards all menJ® Subsequent abolitionist writers were, as previously noted, great ly influenced by Benezet's style and themes. Writing in 1767, for example, Nathaniel Appleton endeavored to show "how this [the slave] trade affects private families," insisting that "evils that begin there seldom end 'till the public feel them": When a slave is introduced into a family, at once commences an amazing distinction: they are indeed among us allowed to be of the human species; yet so very inferior, as scarcely to be intitled to any of its priviledges; Nay, when I think of it, I don’ t know of one priviledge they have above the brutes; for as to eating, drinking and sleeping, they are allowed them for the same reason that the beasts are, to sup port life and vigour, to do our labour; but as to choice or property, it is certain they can have none: . . . They are al lowed by us to be of our species, yet so very low, that the first idea which children have of slaves, is, that they are not intitled to the same tenderness, nor even justice, that whites are. This produces an haughty and imperious conduct towards them, and often cruelty; this spirit indulged towards the servants of the family, naturally influences [white] be haviour in all they esteem their inferiors in any sort, and ten to one this temper grows up with them, and they ever af ter be despised by the wise and humane, and hated by all.76 --------------------------------------------------------------------- 295- And speaking of "the glorious stand which America has made for her Liberties" during "the years 1765 & 1766," Appleton demands: "How much glory will it add to us, if at the time we are establishing Lib erty for ourselves and children, we show the same regard to all man kind that come among us?"— if "while we are preventing the chains being put upon us, we are knocking them off from those who already have them on?" Anticipating the very criticisms leveled at the post- Revolutionary Americans for their hypocrisy, Appleton declares that freeing the slaves will shew all the world, that we are true sons of Liberty, and will be expressive of such noble, disinterested and gene rous sentiments, as will give us the highest esteem among mankind, and will for ever prevent any bad ministry harbour ing a thought of making the least infringement upon our privi leges; for the people that will forego so lucrative a trade, on such principles, must be a noble, must be an unconquerable people.7" The British abolitionist Granville Sharp develops a parallel theme in Extract from a Representation of the Injustice and Dangerous Tendency of Tolerating Slavery (1771) when he writes that "true liber ty protects the labourer, as well as his Lord"; that it "preserves the dignity of human nature, and seldom fails to render a province rich and populous." A "toleration of slavery," on the other hand, is the "highest breach of social virtue, and not only tends to depopulation, but too often renders the minds of both masters and slaves utterly depraved and inhuman, by the hateful extremes of exaltation and de pression."78 Indeed, says Sharp, "it is false, that either we [Brit ain] or our colonies would be ruined by the abolition of slavery": It might occasion a stagnation of business for a short time. Every great alteration produces that effect; because mankind cannot, on a sudden, find ways of disposing of themselves and 296 of their affairs: But it would produce many happy effects. It is the slavery which is permitted in America that has hindered it from becoming so soon opulous as it would otherwise have done. Let the Negroes free, and in a few generations, this vast and fertile continent would be crowded with inhabitants; learning, arts, and every thing would flourish amongst them; instead of being inhabited by wild beasts, and bv savages, it would be peopled by philosophers, and by men. These were strong words, especially from an "outsider," and the pro-slavery author was quick to take exception with them. In Slavery Not Forbidden by Scripture, Or a Defence of the West-India Planters (1773), Richard Nisbet angrily denounced "these advocates for human liberty," wondering why they did not "undertake the cause of our brave soldiers and invincible sailors, in preference to that of the negroes": Certainly every body will excuse them for so harmless a par tiality. They ought to advise the ministry to abolish the inhuman custom of pressing, and to allow the soldiers to quit their regiments when they had a mind, instead of being de tained during life. If they received an answer, they would, probably, be told, that the wisest statesmen had never dis covered any other method of manning the navy, especially on a sudden emergency; and that the army could not be maintained, if the time of serving were left in the will of the soldiers. They would, likewise, be told, that private considerations must always give way to the publick good; and that the safety of the state required these extraordinary exertions of power. Will not the same reason oblige government to allow slavery to continue in the colonies? By list[e]ning to one petition, Britain must be conquered by force of arms; by granting the other, she must be undone by losing her commerce. The cause would be different, but the effect the same.80 And Eliphalet Pearson, also writing in 1773, argues that Bene- zet’ s appeal to the "law of nature" in defense of black manumission was invalid; that, indeed, "whatever action in it's [sic] nature . . . tends to happiness of the whole, is agreeable to [the] law [of na ture], and every action of a contrary tendency is hereunto disagree able." Therefore, "whatever practical principle of society . . . hath 297— t this tendency" is to be "reputed just, and [then] approved and adop ted." Observing that foremost among the "practical principles" of society is the "right of authority" and that it may exist— with uni versal approval— "independent of all voluntary contract on the part of the subordinate": Such is the right of the Governor of the universe to govern and direct the conduct of all finite existences, and such is the right of parents to govern and direct the conduct of their children. Now if it be found that there is the same foundation for authority and subordination among different individuals of the human species, between whom no such rela tion sas those above-mentioned do subsist, as there is for authority and subordination in those cases where it is ack nowledged to be just, it will follow, that degrees of right ful authority in some, involving degrees of subordination in others must be admitted among them likewise.81 Responding to Pearson's argument, Theodore Parsons states that "the exercise of authority, only in cases where such exercise is produc tive of happiness, is undoubtedly right." But man's "nature, state, and condition" render it "absolutely impossible" for "human wisdom to distinguish the cases where the exercise of such authority would be proper, from those where it would not be so"— and that it likewise would be impossible for "any practical principle of society, for any human law to make the distinction."82 A case in point is provided by David Cooper's A Mite cast into the Treasury: Or, Observations on Slave-Keeping (1772), published the previdus year: The low contempt with which [blacks] are generally treated by the whites, leads children from the first dawn of reason, to consider people with a black skin, on a footing with domestic animals, form'd to serve and obey, whom they may kick, beat, and treat as they please, without their having any right to complain; and when they attain the age of maturity, can scarce be brought to believe that creatures they have always looked upon so vastly below themselves, can stand on the same footing in the sight of the Universal Father, or that justice requires the same conduct to them as to whites; and those --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------298 ~ j prejudices having been generally countenanced in time past, are become so riveted, that too few even of the sober and religious, can hear the voice of impartial justice, in favour of that abused people, with a proper degree of patience and attention.83 And the rhetorical questions around which Cooper constructs the body of his argument duplicate the key issues raised by Benezet ten years earlier: "Is he who encourages the thief to steal and receives the goods, more innocent than the thief?" "Do the precepts of Christ, or nature of things give a Christian any stronger title to his native freedom than an African?" "If it was a heinous crime to take a fel- low-servant by the throat and deprive him of his liberty because he could not pay a just debt, is it not much more so to deprive our fel- low-servants of their freedom who owe us nothing, nor ever did us the least injury?" "Does not he, who for gain, buys, sells, or keeps in slavery the descendants of those who were unjustly deprived of their freedom, thereby justify the original act, and put himself in the place of the first ag[g]ressor?"84 For Benezet, Cooper, and those who followed, the one possible answer to these and other questions was absolute and resounding. The publication in 1773 of the anonymous satire, Personal Slav ery Established, by the Suffrages of Custom and Right Reason, and Benjamin Rush's An Address to the Inhabitants of the British Settle ments in America, upon Slave-Keeping marked an important change in anti-slavery writing: for the first time, the abolitionist cause be came the domain of a circle of influential and relatively popular Northern intellectuals, including Benjamin Franklin, Benjamin Rush, 2 9 9 — Noah Webster, and Thomas Paine. It should be noted that Franklin, Rush and Paine, together with such other prominent citizens of Phila delphia as James Pemberton, Tench Coxe and William Lewis, founded the Pennsylvania Abolition Society in the spring of 1787. While Benezet had often associated with members of the "Philadelphia Group" before his death in 1784 and had been an especially close friend of Rush, he lacked the verbal facility of most of the writers just mentioned; he was not so capable as they of developing sustained, original argu ments. And while Rush and Franklin were strongly affected by Benezet, admiring his courage, stamina and unchanging moral center, it was actually through them and their contemporaries that the abolition movement acquired the necessary thrust to propel it, vital and in fluential, into the nineteenth century. Personal Slavery Established is a remarkable satire, in language and style resembling the essays of Addison and Steele but in tone and structure the descendant of Jonathan Swift. The work is slyly dedi cated to the "Worshipful Committee-Men of the Royal African Company"; gold/materialism is the underlying metaphor of the inscription: Notwithstanding the endeavours of ignorant bigots, to repre sent the Slave trade in an odious light, I hope this humble attempt to expose them, will meet your approbation; and con vince the world that the lustre of your characters is by no means impaired, but that like pure metal, the more they are rubbed by those enthusiastic advocates for liberty, the brighter they will shine. I am under no personal obligations to you— the gratitude I feel arises from a nobler source— it is a just tribute to that generous disinterested exertion of benevolence and philanthrophy, which has been the principal means of heaping wealth and honours on Europeans and Ameri cans, and rescuing many millions of wretched Africans, as brands from the fire, and even compelling them to the enjoy ment of a more refined state of happiness, that the par tiality of fate had assigned them in their native state. Go on, worthy sirs! in the glorious work.®5 3 0 0 . About half the pamphlet is used in a feigned condemnation of popular anti-slavery tracts, whereby the author subtly excoriates slavery. Regarding John Woolman's Considerations on Keeping Negroes, for ex ample, he writes: "As his arguments against the practice are all drawn from the Old and New Testament, and their authority has been long since rejected by some of our most prevailing systems of poli ticks, I think it is unnecessary to say more, than that it appears to be the dull production of a visionary enthusiast." And concerning Benezet's A Caution and Warning, he sniffs: I have found that this gentleman has no Negroes, and no con cerns in trade. We can therefore be at no difficulty in ac counting for a certain contraction of sentiment, evident in his abstract ideas of right and wrong. They are merely theo- retick, and a little acquaintance with men and things would convince him, [they] are better calculated for the amusements of recluse bigots, than the attention of men endued with a more liberal turn of thinking, and enlarged ideas.86 Among the most bitterly sarcastic passages of Personal Slavery- Established are those which respond to denunciations of black intel ligence and accomplishment, denunciations such as Arthur Lee's An Essay in Vindication of the Continental Colonies of America (1764)— wherein Lee agrees with abolitionists that slavery "admits of little cultivation, and must therefore be always an enemy to virtue and sci ence," but argues that blacks "are involved in the most gross idola try" and "the most stupid reverence," that their "method of feeding is not one remove above absolute brutes," that "cruelty, cunning, perfidy, and cowardice" are their inherent attributes— and, there fore, that the loathsome "fruits of slavery" derive not so much from the institution itself as from what he describes as the inborn and unchanging black character.87 301 The writer of Personal Slavery Established responds to such dis turbing notions in one of the strongest defenses of black accomplish ments and keenest castigations of white bigotry composed during the eighteenth century. As a mark of the writer's skill, an implicit criticism of white double-standards in "acceptable" treatment of black women and pointed references to miscegenation are used to un derscore white rejection of blacks in the face of their manifest hu manity and wit: Such . . . was [the intelligence] of a Negroe fellow in Jamai ca, who seemed to have some parts and learning, and could talk in a manner, that had his colour been concealed, and he had stuck a piece of wax on his nose to make it a little more prominent, might have been mistaken for a rational creature possessing a tolerable knowledge in the law. I have myself seen several negroes, who by dint of great labour and atten tion in their owners, have become very good mechanicks, as jewellers, watch-makers, &c. Nay I have known more than one of them who were capable of keeping a set of books in the Italian method in a neat correct manner. But we are not to suppose a few such instances . . . can add any strength to the suppostion of their being endued with reason. . . . Indeed what we are told of ingenuity in Negroes, has sometimes a little staggered my hypothesis; and would induce a suspicion of their mother's fidelity, was not the whole race of them so extremely forbidding in their persons; and the antipathy of all the whites to them and their descendants so uncon querable, as entirely to satisfy me on that head. The proba bility of the falsity of such relations, or of their being much exaggerated to gratify a natural fondness for the mar vellous and wonderful, is much more in its favour.®® The Juvenalian conclusion to Personal Slavery Established, clearly derivative of Swift's A Modest Proposal, damns the sharply- defined class structure spawned by white laziness and greed and the incredible destruction of human life and dignity occasioned by the slave trade. In one of the most apt and horrifying metaphors of his age, the anonymous author compares slavery to cannibalism: 302 What ... if in resentment for [the abolitionists'] infamous usage of them, the West-Indians should determine to decline their commerce with the northern colonies of America? Resent ment working in men of honour, may carry them a great way. They may find resources to supply themselves with flour and pork, or with succedaneums that will do as well. The white people of fortune in the West-Indies are comparatively few in number, and might be supplied nearly with all they use of these articles from the Carolinas. It would then only remain to supply the lower class of whites, and the demands of the Negroes.— It is supposed that one hundred thousand Slaves are yearly shipped in the African ports for the British West India islands. Of these perhaps twenty thousand die on the passage. Now when their death is not occasioned by any bad disorder, if there was proper quantity of salt on board, the bodies might be cured in pickle or smoak; and the same method pursued with those that die on land, or are past labour. A considerable quantity of provision might be thus procured that would furnish a tolerable succedaneum for pork and hams. I have never heard that this kind of meat is deemed unwhole some, but on the contrary, that the Cannibals are a hardy robust race of people.— The scheme is new, and might not be very eligible— I only mention it as a dernier resort, and which a very high degree of resentment only could ever in cline them to have recourse to.89 Benjamin Rush begins An Address to the Inhabitants of the Brit ish Settlements in America with these words: "So much hath been said upon the subject of Slave-Keeping, that an Apology may be required for this Address. The only one I shall offer is, that the Evil still continues." With that, he launches into an attack on slavery by "summing up the leading arguments against it," beginning with incor rect notions regarding "the moral faculty," the intellect, and the physical characteristics of blacks. It is necessary, he says, to "distinguish between an African in his own country, and an African in a state of slavery in America": Slavery is so foreign to the human mind, that the moral faculties, as well as those of the understanding are debased, and rendered torpid by it. All the vices which are charged upon the Negroes in the southern colonies and the West-In dies, such as Idleness, Treachery, Theft, and the like, are 303 the genuine offspring of slavery, and serve as an argument to prove that they were not intended for it. . . . Nor let it be said, in the present Age, that their black color . . . either subjects them to, or qualifies them for slavery. Montesquieu, in his Spirit of Laws, treats this argument with the ridicule it deserves. "WERE I to vindicate our right to make slaves of the Negroes, these should be my arguments. The Europeans having extirpated the Americas, were obliged to make slaves of the Africans for clearing such vast tracts of land. Sugar would be too dear, if the plants which produce it were cultivated by any other than slaves. These creatures are all over black, and with such a flat nose that they can scarcely be pitied. It is hardly to be believed that God, who is a wise being, should place a soul, especially a good soul, in such a black ugly body. The Negroes prefer a glass necklace to that of gold, which polite nations so highly value: can there be a greater proof of their wanting common sense? It is impossible for us to suppose these creatures to be men, because, allow ing them to be men, a suspicion would follow, that we our selves are not Christians."90 To those who attempted to justify slavery through appeals to the Bible, Rush observes that "every prohibition of Covetousness— In temperance— Pride— Uncleanness— Theft— and Murder" delivered by Christ, together with "every lesson of meekness, humility, forbear ance, Charity, Self-denial, and brotherly-love” condemn the slave trade, for while slavery "includes all the former Vices, [it] neces sarily excludes the practice of all the latter Virtues, both from the Master and the Slave." Rush advises those attempting to defend slavery through religious appeals to develop "some modern System of Religion to support it, and not presume to sanctify their crime by attempting to reconcile it to . . . Christianity." And he scoffs at the absur dity of excusing slavery on the grounds that it affords blacks an opportunity for Christian conversion, flatly stating that "slavery is an engine as little fitted for that purpose as Fire or the Sword. A Christian Slave is a contradiction in terms."91 304 Of the argument that by making well-treated slaves of blacks, their "situation" is "render[ed] happier in this Country, than it was in their own," Rush observes: "Slavery and Vice are connected to gether, and the latter is always a source of misery. Besides, by the greatest humanity we can show them, we only lessen, but do not remove jthe crime, for the injustice of it continues the same." In another place, he compares slavery to the imposition of taxes on the colonies, implying the strong political tensions occasioned by the slave trade: It is to no Purpose to urge here that Self Interest leads the Planters to treat their Slaves well. There are many things which appear true in Speculation, which are false in Practice. The Head is as apt to mistake its real Interest, as the Heart its real Happiness. It would be the Interest of every Man to live agreeable to the Rules of Reason and Morality; but, how few in this Respect pursue their true Interest? It would be the Interest of Great Britain to give over attempting to tax her Colonies: It would be her Interest likewise to abolish Slavery in every Part of her Dominions; but how has she sac rificed her Interest in these Respects, to the Party or pri vate Considerations of a few weak, or bad Men.92 Finally, Rush joins Benezet, Sharp and others in offering a pro posal for ending slavery; though little more than a list of sketchy suggestions, Rush's plan is unique among those of early anti-slavery theorists in that it relies on rationalism and a sense of public mor ality rather than law: The first thing I would recommend to put a stop to slavery in this country, is to leave off importing slaves. For this pur pose let our assemblies unite in petitioning the king and parliament to dissolve the African committee of merchants. . . . Let such of our countrymen as engage in the slave trade, be shunned as the greatest enemies to our country, and let the vessels which bring the slaves to us, be avoided as if they bore in them the Seeds of that forbidden fruit, whose baneful taste destroyed both the natural and moral world.— As for the Negroes among us, who, from having acquired all the low vices of slavery, or who from age or infirmities are unfit to be set at liberty, I would propose, for the good of society, that they should continue the property of those with -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- . -------------------------- “ 305 whom they grew old, or from whom they contracted those vices and infirmities. But let the young Negroes be educated in the principles of virtue and religion— let them be taught to read, and write— and afterwards instructed in some business, whereby they may be able to maintain themselves. Let laws be made to limit the time of their servitude, and to entitle them to all the privileges of free-born British subjects. At any rate, let Retribution be done to God and to Society. 3 The Revolutionary War and the ratification of the Constitution significantly affected the intensity and scope of the abolition move ment, providing anti-slavery writers with increased intellectual lev erage in their attempts to convict their foes of moral offense. The "conflicts of the Revolutionary period," as Roger Bruns has written, "generated extensive public debate over such concepts as liberty, equality and the natural rights of man," and "such a debate could not fail to include the fate of the black slaves." However, the reformers "knew that in the markets of Newport and plantations of the South change would not come easily, especially with prime slaves bringing about fifty pounds sterling a head and the rice and indigo fields of South Carolina and Georgia swallowing huge numbers of fresh im ports."94 By 1785, the New England states had adopted laws facili tating the gradual manumission of blacks then held in slavery and outlawed the subsequent importation of slaves; the passage of the Northwest Ordinance in 1787 created "free states" north of the Ohio River. But in the South, the conclusion of the War brought different results. Though the slave trade had been "a quiescent institution" during the fighting, it "resumed with a vigor that profoundly disap pointed abolitionists." Says Bruns, "Planters who had been deprived for seven years of the flow of black merchandise into the colonies 306 and who had lost many slaves in the course of the war thirsted for fresh imports. In South Carolina alone several thousand new slaves were herded onto plantations after only three years of peace."96 It was in this context— the context of a newly-created nation burdened with leftover sins— that David Cooper, Samuel Hopkins, James Dana, and other post-Revolutionary abolitionists sought to establish their beliefs. David Cooper's A Serious Address to the Rulers of America, for example, seeks to establish "the Inconsistency of [Governmental] con duct respecting slavery." Referring to the opening lines of the Dec laration of Independence, Cooper asserts: "We need not now turn over the libraries of Europe for authorities to prove that blacks are born equally free with whites; it is declared and recorded as the sense of America." He then orders the "cruel taskmasters" and "petty tyrants" to cease attempting "to vindicate your having the same interest in your fellow men as in your cattle, and let blushing and confusion of face strike every American, who henceforth shall behold advertise ments offering their brethren to sale, on a footing with brute beasts."96 He continues: OUR rulers have appointed days for humiliation, and of fering up of prayer to our common Father to deliver us from our oppressors, when sighs and groans are piercing his holy ears from oppressions which we commit a thousand fold more grievous: pouring forth blood and treasure year after year in defence of our own rights; exerting the most assiduous atten tion and care to secure them by laws and sanctions, while the poor Africans are continued in chains of slavery as creatures unworthy of notice in these high concerns, and left subject to laws disgraceful to humanity, and opposite to every pre cept of Christianity. . . . IT may be objected that there are many difficulties to be guarded against in setting of negroes free, and that, were they all to be freed at once, they would be in a worse condi 307 tion than at present. I admit that there is some weight in these objections; but are not these difficulties of our own creating? And must the innocent continue to suffer because we have involved ourselves in difficulties? Let us do justice as far as circumstances will admit, give such measure as we ask, if we expect Heaven to favour us with the continuance of our hard earned liberty. The work must be begun, or it can never be completed.97 Cooper's theme, that the perpetuation of the slave trade— be cause it constitutes a serious moral crime— will incur divine pun ishment of the new nation, perhaps resulting in the loss of liberty for all, is repeated frequently in the anti-slavery essays published after 1780. Samuel Hopkins, for instance, opined in 1785 that "if we obstinately refuse to reform, what we have implicitly declared to be wrong," continuing to hold black slaves in "a glaring contradiction to our professed aversion to slavery, and struggle for civil liberty, . . . have we not the greatest reason to fear, yea, may we not with certainty conclude, God will yet withdraw his kind protection from us, and punish us yet seven times more?"98 Charles Crawford declared in his Observation upon Negro-Slavery (1784) that the members of the British legislature, and those who are in authority among other nations of the world who carry on the slave-trade, if they do not endeavour by every reasonable exertion to abrogate that trade, are guilty indirectly of murder. They suffer murder to be committed by their neglect. They will answer therefore for such neglect at that dread tribunal, where there will be an, "Inquisition for blood."99 Joseph Samson, in A Poetical Epistle to the Enslaved Africans, in the Character of an Ancient Negro (1790), insists that "A sun-burnt skin was sure a slender plea / To rob our Sires of life or Liberty," and then encourages enslaved blacks to "be patient, humble, diligent, and true, / In hope of coming freedom, as you can— / Commend your right eous efforts to GOD and Man." But "think not to right yourselves," he 308 cautions; instead, "let GOD arise, / Fit you for freedom, and then make you free, / As he design'd his creature MAN to be."100 The im plication is, of course, that God will eventually step in, punish the slaveholders, and reward the patient and longsuffering slaves. James Dana is much less patient than Samson's "ancient Negro" poet; he more closely resembles David Cooper when he affirms in The African Slave Trade (1791) that our late warfare was expressly founded on such principles as these: "All men are created equal: They are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Admitting these just principles, we need not puzzle ourselves with the ques tion, whether a black complexion is a token of God's wrath? . . . The Africans are our brethren. And, according to the principles of our religion, they are children of the free- woman as well as we. This instructs us, that God is no re specter of persons, or of nations. . . . The revolution in the United States hath given free course to the principles of liberty . . . [and] hath estab lished a free constitution. The spirit will spread, and shake the throne of despotic princes. . . . [But] in vain do we assert our natural and civil liber ty, or contend for the same liberty in behalf of any of our fellow-creatures, provided we ourselves are not made free from the condemnation and dominion of sin.101 The "sin" with which Dana is concerned is slavery: and though he is, in the end, perhaps more concerned with "spiritual" than literal slavery— the bondage of sin— he nevertheless questions whether "any servant can be profitable who is not a voluntary one," and declares that "the term slave is odious, be the master's yoke ever so light."102 More pointed than any of these essays, perhaps, is Edward Rush- ton's Expostulatory Letter to George Washington, of Mount Vernon, in Virginia, on his Continuing to be a Proprietor of Slaves (1797). A British abolitionist with strong ties to the Pennsylvania Quakers, 309 Rushton begins his letter by recognizing that "the great family of mankind were never more benefited by the military abilities of any individual, than by those which you displayed during the memorable American contest." After enumerating Washington's accomplishments, [Rushton continues: But it is not to the commander in chief of the American for ces, nor to the president of the united states [sic], that I have aught to address, my business is with George Washington, of Mount Vernon, in Virginia, a man who, notwithstanding his hatred of oppression and his ardent love of liberty, holds at this moment hundreds of his fellow beings in a state of ab ject bondage.— Yes! you, who conquered under the banners of freedom— You, who are now the first magistrate of a free peo ple, are, (strange to relate) a slave-holder. . . . [And] that you, I say, should continue to be a slave-holder, a proprietor of human flesh and blood, creates in many of your British friends both astonishment and regret. You are a republican, an advocate for the dissemination of knowledge and for universal justice— where then are the argu ments by which this shameless dereliction of principle can be supported? . . . Your slaves, it may be urged, are well treated — That I deny— man can never be well treated who is deprived of his rights. They are well cloathed, well fed, well lodged, &c. Feed me with ambrosia, and wash it down with nectar, yet, what are these, if liberty be wanting? You took arms in defence of the rights of man— your negroes are men — Where then are the rights of your negroes? . . . Nor is it likely that your own unfortunate negroes are the only sufferers by your adhering to this nefarious busi ness; consider the force of an example like yours, consider how many of the sable race may now be pining in bondage, merely forsooth, because the president of the united states, who has the character of a wise and good man, does not see cause to discontinue the long established practice. Of all the slave-holders under heaven those of the united states appear to me the most reprehensible; for man never is so truly odious as when he inflicts upon others that which he himself abominates. "In the name of justice," Rushton concludes, "what can induce you thus to tarnish your own well earned celebrity, and to impair the fair features of American liberty, with so foul and indelible a blot?" *04 Rushton's criticism did not differ significantly from that 310 which Washington received at home— except, perhaps, that it was more skillfully phrased. Though Washington apparently bristled when he received Rushton's communication, returning it "under cover, without a syllable in reply,"105 he was sufficiently affected by cumulative criticism— as was Jefferson after him— to free his slaves in his will, though neither man had the capacity to "break with the past" during his lifetime. And, as Rushton predicted, until the President established an appropriate example, American abolition would make slow progress. Of course, those who opposed manumission, gradual or otherwise — and there were many who did, even in the North— were quick to cri ticize the "flaws" in the writings of men like Cooper and Hopkins. Jupiter Hammon [sic], a black slave in New York, wrote An Address to the Negroes In the State of New-York in 1787; the pamphlet takes a much less rigid position than those of the writers just mentioned, advocating a conservative and gradual freeing of Northern slaves. Because An Address to the Negroes plays on and even perpetuates such white myths as that of the "happy, dependent slave," it is easy to see why it appealed to large segments of the national white audience. Hammon claims doubt as to "whether it is right, and lawful, in the sight of God" for the whites to make slaves of blacks; nevertheless, he is "certain that while we are slaves, it is our duty to obey our masters." He then declares: Now I acknowledge that liberty is a great thing, and worth seeking for, if we can get it honestly, and by our good con duct, prevail on our masters to set us free: Though for my own part I do not wish to be free, yet I should be glad, if others, especially the young negroes were to be free, for many of us, who are grown up slaves, and have always had mas 311 ters to take care of us, should hardly know how to take care of ourselves; and It may be more for our own comfort to re main as we are. That liberty is a great thing we may know from our own feelings, and we may likewise judge so from the conduct of the white-people, in the late war. How much money has been spent, and how many lives has [sic] been lost, to defend their liberty[!] I must say that I have hope that God would open their eyes, when they were so much engaged for liberty, to think of the state of the poor blacks, and to pity us. He has done it in some measure, and has raised us up many friends, for which we have reason to be thankful, and to hope in his his mercy. What may be done further, he only knows.106 Hammon succeeds in establishing a rather tenuous abolitionist position by the end of his essay— that is, to desire the day when all men will be free. But even this woefully modest success is dependent on his having been exceedingly discreet and circuitous. Had he, a black man, roundly condemned slavery and spoken out for immediate manumission, it is almost certain his pamphlet would have been with held from publication not only in the South, but everywhere in the North except, perhaps, Philadelphia. Instead he adopts the role dic tated to him by white tradition— the subservient, contented and not- too-bright slave: the voice by which many blacks would be forced to communicate with the white world for at least another century. Some of the strongest criticism of the abolition movement came, interestingly enough, from England: merchants and planters feared that the American insurrection would influence or even endanger agri cultural and commercial interests throughout the British Empire. Mat ters reached a head in mid-1789 when William Wilberforce presented a series of appeals to Parliament to end the slave trade. These were seconded by William Innes, who seemed to be speaking for the majority 312 of wealthy Britons when he published The Slave-Trade Indispensable during that same year. Working from the assumption that "no Man can satisfactorily tell" why "the Creator of all Things decreed the Inhabitants of Af rica to be black" or "in what Manner they were to act their respec tive Part in the World," Innes suggests that blacks should fill whatever role brings them the greatest happiness; and since they are "much happier in the West-Indies, than they were in their own Coun try," the trade should continue to be "universally approved and en couraged." His central argument consists of three points: That it is impracticable to cultivate the Lands in the West-Indies, by any other Sort of People, than the Negroes. That, if a sufficient Increase of Negroes, a fortieth Part, which is wanted yearly to maintain the present Strength of the Islands, can neither be procured nor permitted; the Cultivation, of Sugar and other Articles, must of Course dwindle in a few Years, and the Sugar-Plantations turn into waste Land. That there is not a Doubt of the Necessity, of a yearly Importation of Negroes; as the Births are very inadequate, to keep up the indispensable [sic] Number. The want of a larger Proportion of women, is one great Cause; besides epidemical Disorders, and other Disasters; particularly, the Hurricanes, which often sweep numberless Negroes away in one Night. The True State of the Question, Addressed to the Petitioners for the Abolition of the Slave Trade, an anonymous tract published in 1792, echoes Innes's position. If Parliament supports "those who de ceive us with falsehoods, and get us to sign Petitions," the anon ymous writer argues, "[this] must reduce thousands of families to beggary, put the Blacks in a much worse state than they are, and end in Old England paying about two millions of additional Taxes"— which, the writer adds, is "a sum now paid by the Planters on goods imported from the West Indies, which it is impossible to produce without the 313 labour of the Blacks."108 The writer then supports his stance with a discussion of the "state of comparative happiness" enjoyed by the West-Indies slaves; he claims to have gotten his information from a nameless "Parson who had been Chaplain to a Regiment in Jamaica: He said he wished our labouring poor were half as well off as the Negroes: they have each a little snug house and garden, and plenty of pigs and poultry: that exclusive of every Sun day, and half every Saturday, their Masters allow them one day in fourteen for themselves. . . . They have . . . clothes found them, food found them, [sic] both good and sufficient, the best doctors in the Country to attend them when sick, their wives and children provided for, and all without any expence. . . . . . . Some of them are at times whipped; but generally for crimes for which in England they would be hanged, or (in our great mercy) sent to starve to death in Botany Bay. He concluded by saying, that in Africa they are in a wretched situation, and in a much more abject state of slavery, than in our Islands.109 The author then provides a number of "testimonials," many of them, such as the witness of "Robert Norris, Esq. A Carolina Merchant," farfetched exaggerations. Norris claims to have seen "at the Gates of the King's Palace [at an unspecified place in West Africa], two piles of human heads, like shot in an Arsenal," and to have discovered that "when the King waters the graves of his Ancestors, (a phrase for de luging them with human blood) which is an annual custom, very many are put to death, particularly such as Europeans may have refused to purchase."110 Clearly evident in these and similar essays is a seemingly in satiable white greed, an obsession with profitable mercantilism at the expense of all other considerations, including human life itself. Abolitionists on both sides of the Atlantic were quick to assail the gross selfishness of such tracts; indeed, condemnations of material- 314 ism as the primary motivation for the continuance of the slave trade, together with analyses of the influence of slavery on black morality, comprised the central themes of American anti-slavery writers through the end of the century. One of the Britons who sided with Wilberforce against Tarleton and his supporters was Alexander Geddes, who, in his skillful satire, An Apology for Slavery (1792), insisted that "slavery, in the present system of things, cannot be abolished," except "in opposition to the Laws of State-expediency, in opposition to the Laws of British Lux ury, in opposition to the Laws of Self-interest." And so, he says, "the abolition of Slavery is, in the present system of things, nei ther practicable nor necessary." 111 American abolitionists were equally severe in their judgment of "private avarice and the tyrani- cal policy of nations,"112 so that few were likely to agree with Wil liam Patten's assertion in 1793 that it would be "unreasonable and far from the spirit of Christianity to assert, that they who have op pressed the Africans, have done it with a full knowledge of the evil, and against the convictions of conscience" since "it is not common for man deliberately to violate" principles which are "perceived and al lowed to be right."11:^ One of the finest— one of the most reasoned and best struc tured— abolition essays of the eighteenth century is Noah Webster's Effects of Slavery on Morals and Industry (1793), written on behalf of the Connecticut Society for the Promotion of Freedom to which Web ster belonged. "The injustice of [slavery]," begins Webster, "has been the subject of so much public discussion, and is so generally 315 admitted," that "any attempt to prove it, would be a very ill compli ment to the understandings of my enlightened fellow citizens. Nor could any efforts of mine add novelty to the subject; so numerous, elaborate and diffuse have been the essays, and so powerful the elo quence employed in vindicating the violated rights of humanity." Defining his specific purpose for writing, Webster continues: But men, instructed by their avarice in a species of subtle casuistry, have learnt to make a material distinction between abstract rights and private interest or policy. In defending the African Slave trade, its advocates, compelled by the powers of reason to abandon the right, have taken refuge under the policy and necessity of the traffic. Here entrenched as in a strong hold, they maintain their station, and bid defiance to the attacks of reason and religion. To drive them from this citadel of defence, it becomes necessary to encounter them with their own weapons, and upon their own ground.**^ Webster's argument has three parts. First, he discusses the in fluences of slavery on the morality and industry of the individual— arguing that all slavery, "political" or "civil," produces similar effects. He believes that virtually all slaves "may be divided into two classes, the indolent and the villa[i]nous." In the American col onies, he says, "the laziness of slaves has become proverbial"; where pride or initiative is not completely destroyed, the slave becomes "cruel, deceitful, perfidious, and knavish" and is deprived "of all the noble and amiable affections of the human heart."Of the ef fects of slavery on the master, he writes: It is a general truth that the men who, from their infancy hold, and those who feel, the rod of tyranny, become equally hardened by the exercise of cruelty, and equally insensible to the sufferings of their fellow men. Such is the nature and tendency of despotism, that in its operation, it not only checks the progress of civilization, but actually converts the civilized man into a savage; at least so far as respects the humane affections of the heart. 316 Second, Webster examines the influences of slavery on the morals and industry of society at large: these, he says, are parallel to influences on the individual. In addition to swelling crime and pov erty statistics, slavery has the "deplorable effect" of "checking, or destroying the national industry": Wherever we turn our eyes to view the comparative effects of freedom and slavery on agriculture, arts, commerce and sci ence, the mind is deeply affected at the astonishing con trast. . . . ... In a word, the industry of [a slaveholding] country is limited to a supply of immediate wants.117 Finally, Webster argues that "abstract or public right" and "political expedience" are not necessarily divergent; that, in fact, political expedience can and must be made to conform with "public right and justice." In terms of the slave trade, then, Webster in sists that a carefully-planned manumission of all slaves is not only workable, but that it can and must become a matter of political ne cessity and social order. Before presenting his plan for black eman cipation, Webster covers some of the same mental territory Lincoln would track over fifty years later, examining what he calls "the great desideratum": a method for "meliorating the condition of the blacks, without essentially injuring the slave, the master and the public": With respect to the United States of America, no great incon- veniencies occur in gradually abolishing slavery in all the States north of Delaware . . . [where] the number of slaves ... to the free inhabitants [is] only one to forty four. . . . [But] to give freedom at once to almost 700,000 slaves [in the South], would reduce perhaps 20,000 white fam ilies to beggary. It would impoverish the country south of Pennsylvania; all cultivation would probably cease for a time; a famine would ensue; and there would be extreme danger of in surrections which might deluge the country in blood and per haps depopulate it . . . Whatever has been the means and how 317 ever unjustifiable the policy by which slavery has been intro duced and encouraged, the evil has taken such deep root, and is so widely spread in the southern States, that an attempt to eradicate it at a single blow would expose the whole political body to dissolution. 18 Webster dismisses the proposal of returning the blacks to Africa as economically unfeasible and inhumane; he dismisses any recoloniza tion efforts whatsoever on the same grounds, declaring that "the slacks in the southern States must, it is presumed, continue there, for a great number of years, perhaps forever; government at least will lot undertake the herculean task of exporting them . . . and repeo- sling five or six States with white inhabitants."119 In its simplest terms, Webster's proposal for the abolition of Southern slaves, which is based on Benezet's recommendations, is "to raise [them], by gradual means, to the condition of free tenants." These, says Webster, should be appropriately trained by their masters Lr other whites, provided with "stock or instruments of husbandry," and sent out "to unfold and exert themselves." The first experiments "would be few and on a small scale, so that the proprietor need not be terrified at the expense." Webster predicts that "after the first difficulties should be overcome, the tenants would be able to furnish themselves with the necessary means of managing their farms, and the (profits would amply repay the proprietor." As to the immediate ap plication of his proposal, Webster recommends that every planter might find, among his slaves, a few perhaps of the young men, whose habits are not firmly riveted, on whom the first experiments might be made. Once inspire them with a love of property, let them go to market for themselves, ac custom themselves to make bargains, and begin to furnish themselves with clothes and food above their ordinary fare, and to build for themselves convenient houses, and their wants continually multiplying will beget habits of industry 318 and economy. To prompt a slave to exertion, his desires must be inflamed, like those of other men, with a prospect of en joyments above those of a slave— he must be inspired with emulation; and to suppose the negroes in America to be nat urally destitute of such desire, is contrary to historical facts, and all the known principles of the human constitu- The modern reader who is inclined to criticize Webster's theories as simplistic, racist, or unpleasantly redolent of the "gospel of capi talism" should consider how closely they resemble the philosophical base of the various programs and laws which became effective in the South following the Emancipation Proclamation. Such a comparison does not in any way justify Webster's beliefs, but it demonstrates that after wrestling with identical problems and concerns for an addi tional seventy years, Americans were no more capable of dealing with them than Webster had been. Indeed, Webster's recommendations seem remarkably liberal and fair when compared with St. George Tucker's A Dissertation on Slav ery: With a Proposal for the Gradual Abolition of It (1796), where Tucker suggested that slaves be freed only after reaching twenty- seven years of age; and even then, that "freed" slaves be "bound over to the overseers of the poor" for the period of at least a year. Furthermore: Let no Negroe or mulattoe be capable of taking, holding, or exercising, any public office, freehold, franchise or priv ilege, or any estate in lands or tenements, other than a lease not exceeding twenty-one years.— Nor of keeping, or bearing arms, unless authorised so to do by some act of the general assembly, whose duration shall be limitted [sic] to three years. Nor of contracting matrimony with any other than a Negroe or mulattoe; nor be an attorney; nor be a juror; nor a witness in any court of judicature, except against, or bet ween Negroes and mulattoes. Nor be an executor or administra tor; nor capable of making any will or testament; nor maintain any real action; nor be a trustee of lands or tenements him 319 self, nor any other person to be a trustee to him or to his use.121 In an incredible understatement, Tucker acknowledges that "the restrictions in this place may appear to favour strongly of preju dice." Excusing himself on the grounds that "any plan for the aboli tion of slavery" must "either encounter, or accommodate himself to prejudice," he has the temerity to brag about his having "preferred the latter; not that I pretend to be wholly exempt from it, but that I might avoid as many obstacles as possible to the completion of so desirable a work, as the abolition of slavery."122 There were, of course, instances where separation between whites and blacks were advocated by both races. At the request of Absolom Jones and eight other members of the African Society, for example, Benjamin Rush petitioned Granville Sharp to use his influence "among the friends of the Blacks in London, in obtaining a small contribu tion towards building the proposed African Church" in Philadelphia. "Much good may be expected from this institution," Rush assures. "In deed much good has already arise from it; for it has produced a degree of order, and a spirit of inquiry and thoughtfulness in religion never evinced by them before."123 Though there is an implicit but unstated criticism of white society in his list of reasons for establishing a separate black church, Absolom Jones is nevertheless concerned with effectively meeting real and pressing black needs when he writes: That men are more influenced in their morals by their equals, than by their superiors, whereby they exceed a certain rank; and that they are more easily governed by persons chosen by themselves for that purpose, than by persons who are placed over them by accidental circumstances; that the attractions and relationships which are established among the Africans and their descendants, by the sameness of colour, by a nearly 320 equal and general deficiency of education, by total ignorance, or only humble attainments in religion, and by the line drawn by custom, as well as nature between them and the white peo ple; all evidence the necessity and propriety of their enjoy ing separate and exclusive means, and opportunities of wor shipping God, of instructing their youth, and of taking care of their poor.— 124 But more often than not, the need was for less separation and distinction between the races, and not more. In terms of black/white relations, one of the most distressing incidents in early American history occurred in 1793, the year Webster's Effects of Slavery was published. It was distressing, first of all, because it happened in Philadelphia, a city which prided itself on its forward-looking pos ture towards all races; and second, because it clearly demonstrated the breadth of the chasm which separated the theory of interracial responsibility as defined by some of the finest minds of the 1700s from those same responsibilities in actual practice. In 1793, an epidemic of yellow fever swept through most large cities on the East Coast, killing hundreds. The epidemic hit Phila delphia in the fall of that year; within days, a peculiar announcement appeared in the city newspapers. Writes Absolom Jones in A Narrative of the Proceedings of the Black People, During the Late Awful Calamity (1794): Early in September, a solicitation appeared in the public papers, to the people of colour to come forward and assist the distressed, perishing, and neglected sick; with a kind of assurance, that people of our colour were not liable to take the infection. Upon which we [Absolom Jones and Richard Allen] and a few others met and consulted how to act on so truly alarming and melancholy an occasion. After some conver sation, we found a freedom to go forth, confiding in him who can preserve in the midst of a burning fiery furnace, sen sible that it was our duty to do all the good we could to our suffering fellow mortals. 25 321 Of course, the information regarding black immunity was false; its circulation even may have been calculated and deliberate. At any rate, blacks who assisted the sick and dying often became ill them selves, the tragic victims of what can only be described as racist social pressure. But this was only the beginning. After the epidemic had run its course, the blacks who had volunteered as nurses, morgue attendants and gravediggers were accused of cheating, robbing and otherwise abusing the rights and property of white victims. After making a careful account of all monies received and dis persed by black attendants, and with the ironies of his phrase "it was our duty to do all the good we could to our suffering fellow mor tals" echoing clearly, Jones graciously informs his white audience: We wish not to offend, but when an unprovoked attempt is made, to make us blacker than we are, it becomes necessary to be over cautious on that account; therefore we shall take the liberty to tell of the conduct of some of the whites. . . . We can assure the public, there were as many white as black people, detected in pilfering, although the number of the latter, employed as nurses, was twenty times as great as the former, and that there is, in our opinion, as great a proportion of white, as of black, inclined to such practices. It is rather to be admired, that so few instances of pilfer ing and robbery happened, considering the great opportunities of any thing clandestine, out of the great number employed. ... It is even to this day a generally received opinion in this city, that our colour was not so liable to the sick ness as the whites. We hope our friends will pardon us for setting this matter in its true state. . . . When the people of the colour had the sickness and died, we were imposed upon and told it was not with the prevailing sickness, until it became too notorious to be denied, then we were told some few died but not many. Thus were our services extorted at the peril of our lives, yet you accuse us of ex torting a little money from you. . . . [Nevertheless], we feel a great satisfaction in believ ing, that we have been useful to the sick, and thus publicly thank Doctor Rush, for enabling us to be so. We have bled upwards of eight hundred people, and do declare, we have not received to the value of a dollar and a half, therefor: we were willing to imitate the Doctor's benevolence, who sick or 322 w ell, k ep t h is h ou se open day and n igh t, to g iv e what a s s i s ta n c e he could in t h is tim e o f tro u b le. 26 j'W e w ish i f any p erso n hath th e l e a s t s u s p ic io n o f us," c o n clu d es Jo n es, "they would endeavou r to b rin g u s to th e punishm ent w hich su ch L tro cio u s condu ct must d e se rv e ; and by t h is means, th e in n o ce n t w ill 1 on De c le a r e d from rep roach, and th e g u ilty known." In "An A ddress to th o se who keep S la v e s, and ap p rove th e p ra c tice," an ap p en d ix to A Narrative of the Proceedings, J o n es d e liv e r s a b r ie f but em otion ally and m orally profound p lea on b e h a lf o f h is fe llo w b la c k s— and an a c cu ra te r e fle c tio n o f th e problem s y e t to be so lv e d in e s ta b lis h in g b la ck /w h ite e q u a lity a s America n eared th e n in e te e n th cen tu ry , problem s th a t th e n in e te e n th cen tu ry o n ly e x a c e r bated, problem s th a t tr a g ic a lly p e r s is t today: The ju d ic io u s p a rt o f mankind w ill th in k i t u n rea so n ab le, th a t a su p e r io r good condu ct i s look ed for, from our race, by th o s e who stig m a tiz e u s a s men, w hose b a s e n e s s i s in cu ra b le, and may th e r e fo r e be h eld in a s ta te o f s e r v itu d e , th a t a m ercifu l man would n o t doom a b e a st to; y e t you tr y what you can to p r e v en t our r is in g from th e s t a t e o f bar barism, you r e p r e se n t u s to be in , but we can t e l l you, from a d e g r ee o f e x p e rien ce , th a t a b lack man, alth ou gh red u ced to th e m ost a b je ct s t a t e human n a tu re i s cap ab le o f, sh o r t of r e a l m adness, can th in k , r e fle c t, and f e e l in ju r ie s , alth ou gh i t may n ot be w ith th e same d e g r ee o f keen resen tm en t and rev en g e, th a t you who have been and a r e our g r e a t o p p r e sso r s, would m an ifest i f red uced to th e p itia b le c o n d itio n o f a sla v e . W e b e lie v e i f you would tr y th e experim en t o f ta k in g a few black ch ild ren , and c u ltiv a te th e ir minds w ith th e same care, and l e t them have th e same p r o sp e c t in view , a s to l i v in g in th e world, a s you would w ish fo r your own ch ild ren , you would fin d upon th e t r ia l, th e y were n ot in fe r io r in men t a l endowments. . . . Will you, b eca u se you h ave red uced u s to th e unhappy co n d itio n our co lo u r i s in , p lead our in c a p a c ity fo r freedom, and our co n ten ted co n d itio n under o p p re ssio n , a s a s u f f ic ie n t c a u se fo r k eep in g u s under th e g r ie v o u s yoke? W e h ave shew n th e c a u se o f our in c a p a c ity , we w ill a ls o shew, why we app ear contended; were we to attem pt to p lead w ith our m asters, it would be deemed in s o le n c e , fo r which c a u se th e y ap p ear a s c o n ten ted a s th ey can in your sig h t, but th e d rea d fu l in su r 323 rections they have made, when opportunity has offered, is enough to convince a reasonable man, that great uneasiness and not contentment, is the inhabitant of their hearts.128 In a second appendix, "To the People of Colour," Jones argues that blacks themselves have a responsibility to the abolition move ment, declaring that "much depends upon us for the help of our col our" and insisting that "if we are lazy and idle, the enemies of freedom plead it as a cause why we ought not to be free, and say we are better in a state of servitude, and that giving us our liberty would be an injury to us."129 Finally, in "A short Address to the Friends of Him who hath no Helper," Jones acknowledges whites who are working to end slavery. As the sensitive work of a highly-educated black writer and as one of the first documents to describe and exult in existing and potential bonds between the black and white races, it is a fitting conclusion to this chapter: WE feel an inexpressible gratitude towards you, who have en gaged in the cause of the African race; you have wrought a deliverance for many, from more than Egyptian bondage, your labours are unremitted for their complete redemption, from the cruel subjection they are in. You feel our afflictions — you sympathize with us in the heart-rending distress, when the husband is separated from the wife, and the parents from the children, who are never more to meet in this world. The tear of sensibility trickles from your eye, to see the suf ferings that keep us from increasing.— Your righteous in dignation is roused at the means taken to supply the place of the murdered babe. You see our race more effectually de stroyed, than was in Pharaoh's power to effect, upon Israel's sons; you blow the trumpet against the mighty evil, you make the tyrants tremble; you strive to raise the slave, to the dignity of a man; you take our children by the hand, to lead them in the path of virtue, by your care of their education; you are not ashamed to call the most abject of our race, brethren, children of one father, who made of one blood all the nations of the earth: You ask for this, nothing for your selves, nothing but what is worthy the cause you are engaged in; nothing but that we would be friends to ourselves, and not strengthen the bands of oppression, by an evil conduct, when led out of the house of bondage. May he, who hath arisen 324 to plead our cause, and engaged you as volunteers in the ser vice, add to your numbers, until the princes shall come forth from Egypt, and Ethiopia stretch out her hand unto God.130 Moral responsibility was, from the beginning, at the heart of black/white relations in America. Perhaps because of inherent guilt, perhaps because everything even remotely connected with slavery and the trade which perpetuated it felt wrong, it was excused and jus tified on moral grounds. Initially and throughout most of the seven teenth century, both slavery and Indian repression were dressed in the guise of "conversion of the heathen" and "cultural redemption." Later, as the ever-increasing demands placed on the trade resulted in countless atrocities committed by one African upon another, slavery was justified as being the "safer" or "easier" life. Finally, during the late eighteenth century, a new watchword caught on among slavery advocates, "the public good" or "the national well-being”: slavery could not possibly be dismantled except at the expense of families, communities, eventually the Union itself. The modern reader is inclined to believe that, because the abo litionist had moral rectitude on his side, he had the easier or more satisfying job— that he was following a "marked path," so to speak— and that, conversely, all slavery advocates were tyrannical, delib erately blind, or idiotic. It is difficult to remember that neither was working according to established moral precedents; one forgets that the abolitionist slowly chipped his doctrine out of a rigid and unpliant social milieu encased in hard-as-granite traditions. As Noah Webster puts it, "The African slave trade originated when political 325 and social rights were not generally understood, and when the few philosophers who understood and attempted to defend them could make Cbut] a very feeble resistance to the suggestions of private avarice and the tyran[n]ical policy of nations."131 At first, then, abolitionists could do little more than describe the suffering of slaves or the inhumanity of slave traders or cruel masters. Later, Keith, Fox and Mather described the inherent hypo crisy of slavery and its war against Christian doctrine. By the early 1700s, anti-slavery writers such as Bluett and Whitefield had begun to analyze the effects of the trade on slaves; subsequently, Woolman, Benezet and Appleton would cite its influences on slave traders or plantation owners. Eventually, with the onset of the Revolution, abo- I litionist pamphlets by Rush, Franklin, Dana and Webster addressed questions of political dissembling and moral insecurity. And as the movement to free the slaves moved into the nineteenth century, Con stitutional law— together with the moral health of the nation and America's perceived role as an exemplar to the world— became in creasingly supportive pillars of abolitionist ideology. Through 1800, the lines between the opposing camps were often alurred. Just as Benjamin Rush— deeply admired by black Philadel- ohians for his equitable philosophy— was guilty of writing a racist pamphlet on the American Indian, Jefferson denounced slavery while lolding large numbers of slaves himself, even advertising his runaway "Mulatto slave called Sandy, about 35 years of age, his stature . . . rather low, inclining to corpulence, and his complexion light," offering a £10 reward for his capture.132 And as late as 1785, a 326 1673 pamphlet being reprinted in Philadelphia declared that a slave- master's primary sin was not necessarily in owning slaves, but in preventing "their Negroes and slaves from hearing God's word, and becoming Christians."133 But by 1800, a dialogue was being established between blacks and whites; through this dialogue, forward-looking members of both races learned more specifically what constituted racial repression. They learned, as William 0. Blake emphasized three generations later in 1857, that slavery "can never be a legal relation"; that it "rests entirely on force"; that it is "inconsistent with the moral nature of man" because to relinquish "individual liberty is to disqualify [one]self for fulfilling the great objects of [one's] being."134 And so while the South, by 1830, "was so completely identified with slav ery as to make its very existence seem to depend upon the defense of that institution,"135 and while an Alabama minister could write on the eve of the Civil War that "the Southern slave-holder is now satisfied, as never before, that the relation of master and slave is sanctioned by the Bible," that "not one of [the] affirmations" of the Declaration of Independence regarding equality or political and so cial liberties was "a self-evident truth,"136 prominent abolition ists such as William Lloyd Garrison, Frederick Douglass, and Benjamin Lay, together with emancipationists like Emerson and Lincoln, coun tered the assertions of slavery advocates with sophisticated and, in many cases, carefully-reasoned arguments. These later writers built squarely on the foundations established by their seventeenth- and eighteenth-century predecessors, relying on the burden of sixty addi tional years of slavery to give conviction to their admonitions. And though much that was written during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries on black/white relations now seems jarring or anachronis tic, occasional passages or even entire documents can speak to the modern American conscience with convincing eloquence and power, re minders of the persistence of separation and discrimination, or spir itual and cultural disintegration, where men forget that prejudicial restrictions of rights and liberty constitute, in Webster's words, "a violation of those great primary laws of society, by which alone the I 1 0 7 master himself holds every particle of his own freedom." 328 Notes 1. See Kenneth M. Stampp, The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1956; reprinted by Vintage Books), pp. 18, 24. The references to John Rolfe are quoted in Stampp, p. 18. 2. See Stampp, pp. 21—22. But Stampp also emphasizes that while "no specific date marked the legal establishment of chattel slavery in the South," there were "few obstacles in the way of its development." He continues: "Neither the provisions of their charters nor the policy of the English government limited the power of colonial legislatures to control Negro labor as they saw fit. Negroes did not have the benefit of written indentures which defined their rights and limited their terms of service. Their unprotected condition encouraged the trend toward special treatment, and their physical and cultural dif ferences provided handy excuses to justify it. More than anything else, however, the landholders' growing appreciation of the advan tages of slavery over the older forms of servitude gave a powerful impetus to the growth of the new labor system. Southern masters de veloped much— though not all— of the system by custom before it was recognized in law" (p. 22). 3. Cleanth Brooks, R.W.B. Lewis, Robert Penn Warren, American Literature: The Makers and the Making, Volume 1 (New York: St. Mar tin's Press, 1973), p. 11. Tocqueville, in his Democracy in America (Volume I, Phillips Bradley, ed. [New York: Knopf, 1966]), wrote: The lot of the Negro is placed on the extreme limit of servitude, while that of the Indian lies on the uttermost verge of liberty; and slavery does not produce more fatal effects upon the first than independence upon the second . . . The Negro makes a thousand fruitless efforts to insinu ate himself among men who repulse him; he conforms to the tastes of his oppressors, adopts their opinions, and hopes by imitating them to form a part of their community. . . . The Indian, on the contrary, has his imagination in flated with the pretended nobility of his origin, and lives and dies inthe midst of these dreams of pride. Far from de siring to conform his habits to ours, he lives his savage life as the distinguishing mark of his race and repels every advance to civilization, less, perhaps, from hatred of it than from a dread of resembling the Europeans. . . . The Negro, who earnestly desires to mingle his race with that of the European, cannot do so; while the Indian, who might succeed to a certain extent, disdains to make the at tempt. The servility of the one dooms him to slavery, the pride of the other to death (pp. 334-335). 4. Stampp, p. 23. 329 5. See James Dana, The African Slave Trade. A Discourse Deliv ered in the City of New-Haven, September 9, 1790, Before the Connec ticut Society for the Promotion of Freedom . . . (New-Haven: Thomas and Samuel Green, 1791), pp. 20-21; see also Stampp, pp. 24—25. Dana estimates that "there may have been brought into all the West-India- Islands, and into the United States, from first to last, SEVEN MIL LIONS. One million more must be allowed for mortality on the passage. How many have been destroyed in the collection of them in Africa, we cannot justly conjecture" (p. 21). 6. The "three pretences" come from Stampp, pp. 7—12. 7. From Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, II, Third Book, ch. 1., quoted in Arthur M. Schleslinger, Jr., The Cycles of American History (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1986), p. 88. 8. See Schlesinger, p. 88. 9. General backgrounds on slavery include Wfilliam] 0. Blake, The History of Slavery and the Slave Trade, Ancient and Modern. . . . (Columbus: J. & H. Miller, 1857; reprinted, Detroit: Negro History Press, 1971), which is a somewhat heavy-handed albeit relatively thorough treatment of slavery in the context of Western philosophy ("It is strange," writes Blake in his preface, "that a system which pervaded and weakened, if it did not ruin, the republics of Greece and the empire of the Caesars, should not be more frequently noticed by historical writers"); David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in Western Culture (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1966), a more com pact study than Blake's, but with roughly the same scope and inten tions (Davis describes his book as an attempt to "trace the intellec tual origins of antislavery thought," as "an introductory volume for a projected history of antislavery movements"); and Robin W. Winks, ed., Slavery: A Comparative Perspective. Readings on Slavery from Ancient Times to the Present (New York: New York University Press, 1972), concerned with the following questions: "Did not slavery and freedom grow together, the one necessary to the other? Did not the rapid growth of American individualism owe much to the presence of an enslaved labor force? While slavery took on many social and racial meanings, was it not essentially a problem in the supply of labor? Thus, what economic changes are needed in society to remove the need jif, indeed, it can be removed) for involuntary, nonpenal forms of labor?" (see p. xii). See also David Brion Davis, The Problem of Slavery in the Age of the Revolution, 1770-1823 (Ithaca: Cornell Uni versity Press, 1975), and From Homicide to Slavery: Studies in Amer ican Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). | Of works concerned with slavery during the seventeenth and eigh teenth centuries, by far the best are the two volumes by Hugh A. Wyndham, Baron of Leconfield, Problems of Imperial Trusteeship: The ^Atlantic and Slavery (London: Oxford University Press, 1935) and Problems of Imperial Trusteeship: The Atlantic and Emancipation (Lon don: Oxford University Press, 1937). The former is concerned primar ily with the United States and West Africa; the latter treats West 330 Africa, the West Indies, the United States, and South Africa. Of in terest is Anthony J. Barker, The African Link: British Attitudes to the Negro in the Era of the Atlantic Slave Trade, 1550-1807 (London: Frank Cass, 1978); Parker argues that the slavery in the New World laid foundations for "subsequent racial bitterness" and that it "es tablished a knowledge of, and prejudice against, black Africa both more detailed and more widely circulated than has been previously realized" (see p. 194); see also Paul E. Lovejoy, ed., The Ideology of Slavery in AFRICA (Beverly Hills: Sage Publications, 1981). For general information on slavery in America, Kenneth M. Stampp's The Peculiar Institution: Slavery in the Ante-Bellum South (previously cited) is perhaps the most convenient source— as long as one can get past Stampp's infamous declaration in his preface: "I have assumed that the slaves were merely ordinary human beings, that innately Negroes are, after all, only white men with black skins, nothing more, nothing less. This gives quite a new and different meaning to the bondage of black men; it gives their story a relevance to men of all races which it never seemed to have before." William Sumner Jenkins's Pro-Slavery Thought in the Old South (Glouster, MA: Peter Smith, 1960) provides an intelligent discussion of the rela tionship between colonial religion and slavery; Edgar J. McManus's A History of Negro Slavery in New York (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1966) is an interesting account of slavery in the North; Ira Berlin and Ronald Hoffman's compilation of recent essays, Slavery and Freedom in the Age of the American Revolution (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1986), is perhaps the best assessment of the effect of the Revolutionary War and the framing of the Constitution on slav ery; and John Woolman's Some Considerations on the Keeping of Negroes . . . (Reprint edition, New York: Arno Press, 1969) remains the most intelligent and sensitive representation of the American abolitionist position. For collections of contemporary abolitionist documents, by far the best single source is Roger Bruns, ed., Am I Not a Man and a Bro ther: The Antislavery Crusade of Revolutionary America, 1688—1788 (New York: Chelsea House, 1977). Some papers representative of the pro-slavery camp are collected in William Sumner Jenkins, Pro-Slavery Thought in the Old South (Glouster, MA: Peter Smith, 1960). Contem porary accounts of plantation slavery in the South, 1700—1865, writ ten by blacks as well as whites, are collected in Harvey Wish, ed., Slavery in the South (New York: Noonday Press, 1964). The primary source for slave narratives is George P. Rawick, general ed.. The American Slave: A Composite Autobiography, Series 1; Series 2; Supplement to Series 1 [31 volumes] (Westport, CT: Green wood Press, 1972—1977) which is comprised of several hundred narra tives of former slaves, some verbatim transcripts, some summaries. Volume 1 of this series, George P. Rawick, From Sundown to Sunup: The Making of the Black Community (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1972), con tains an introduction to the subsequent eighteen volumes and an intelligent discussion of black religion, master/slave relationships, the treatment of slaves, and racism and slavery. See also Arna Bon- temps, ed., Great Slave Narratives (Boston: Beacon Press, 1969), which includes The Life of Olaudah Equianon, or Gustavus Vassa, the 331 African, first published in 1789; and William L. Katz, ed.. Five Slave Narratives: A Compendium (New York: Arno Press, 1968), which includes narratives of the mid-1800s. | Significant "specialty studies" include, first, in terms of eco nomics, Henry A. Gemery and Jan S. Hogendorn, The Uncommon Market: Essays in the Economic History of the Atlantic Slave Trade (New York: Academic Press, 1979), Henry C. Carey, The Slave Trade Domestic & Foreign: Why it Exists & How it May Be Extinguished (Philadelphia: A. Hart, 1853; reprinted New York: Augustus M. Kelley, 1967), and Adam Hodgson, Remarks During a Journey through North America in the Years 1819, 1820, and 1821, in a Series of Letters: With An Appendix, Con taining An Account of Several of the Indian Tribes and the Principal Missionary Stations, Sic. Also, A Letter to M. Jean Baptiste Say, on the Comparative Expense of Free and Slave Labour (New York: J. Sey mour, 1823; reprinted Westport, CT: Negro Universities Press, 1970), which argues that "the labour of free men is cheaper than the labour of slaves" (its materials on slavery are on pp. 291—335). | Contemporary political documents are collected/summarized in The Enormity of the Slave-Trade; and The Duty of Seeking the Moral and Spiritual Elevation of the Colored Race. Speeches of Wilberforce, and other Documents and Records [no compiler] (New York: The American Tract Society, 18— ?; reprinted New York: Books for Libraries Press, 1970); a useful political interpretation of slavery is Eugene D. Gen ovese's In Red and Black: Marxian Explorations in Southern and Afro- 'American History (New York: Pantheon Books, 1971), which examines the "political origins" and "political concerns" of "slave societies" (in an emotional justification for his book, Genovese declares: "When I . . I am asked, in the fashion of our insane times, what right I, as a white man, have to write about black people, I am forced to re ply in four-letter words"); see also Genovese's The Political Economy of Slavery and The World the Slaveholders Made. For psychological/sociological studies of slavery, see— first and foremost— Stanley M. Elkins, Slavery: A Problem in American In stitutional and Intellectual Life (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1963), Third ed., rev. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), the first modern work to emphasize the question, How was the slave af fected by slavery? See also Ann J. Lane, The Debate over Slavery: Stanley Elkins and His Critics (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1971), which is comprised of responses, positive and negative, to Elkins, together with a concluding essay by Elkins himself; and Robin W. Winks, previously cited, which was also intended as a response to ] Slkins. For a legal study of slavery, see Barnett Hollander, Slavery in America: Its Legal History (New York: Barnes & Noble, 1964), which is rather pretentious, but is the best work in its field; its "Chron ology of Notable Events and Statistics" (pp. 16—21) is worthwhile. 10. Morgan Godwyn, The Negro's & Indians Advocate Suing for their Admission into the Church: Or A Persuasive to the Instructing and Baptizing of the Negro's and Indians in our Plantations. . . . (Lon don: Printed . . . by J.D., 1680), pp. 26—27; earlier quotations are from pages 9 and 21. Godwyn goes on to write: "The holy Scripture no 332 ..ess informing us the same [as the Satyrist just mentioned], when it teacheth us, that God looks not upon the Countenance, or the height of the Stature, nor seeth as Man seeth, but God looks upon the Heart And in truth this whole Argument . . . deserves to be thrown aside, i . . as too dangerous a Weapon for Slaves to learn the use of from us" (p. 27). 11. Godwyn, p. 48, but see pp. 43—50. The account of the "cursing of Ham" is found in Genesis 9:18—27; in his references to Ham, Godwyn uses the phonetic spelling "Cham." 12. Garret Henderich, et. al., Germantown Friends' Protest against Slavery, ([n.p.], 1688), in Bruns, pp. 3—5; the quotation lere is from pp. 3—4. 13. See Bruns, p. 5. 14. [George Keith], An Exhortation & Caution to Friends concern ing buying or keeping of Negroes. Given forth at the Monethly[sic] Meeting in Philadelphia . . . [August] 1693. . . . ([New York: William Bradford, 1693]), pp. 2—3. 15. G[eorge] F[ox], Gospel Family-Order, Being a Short Discourse Concerning the Ordering of Families, Both of Whites, Blacks and In- 'dians . . . ([Philadelphia]: [Reynier Jansen], 1701), pp. 18—19. The shorter quotations are from p. 19. 16. Cotton Mather, The Triumphs of the Reformed Religion in Amer ica. The Life of the Renowned John Eliot . . . (Boston: Benjamin Har ris and John Allen, 1691), pp. 148—149. 17. Cotton Mather, Bonifacius: An Essay upon the Good . . . and to Do Good . . . (Boston: B. Green, 1710); reprint edition, edited by Josephine K. Piercy (Gainesville: Scholars' Facsimiles & Reprints, 1967), pp. 67-69. 18. Mather, Bonifacius, pp. 69—70. 19. Mather, Bonifacius, p. 71. The reference to the "blessings and the Josephs of the families to which you belong" seems to be con cerned not with the slaveholders' families but with the literal bloodline families of the slaves. Mather seems to be suggesting that, as the Old Testament Joseph was able to bless his family through be coming a slave to the wealthy and powerful Pharaoh, so will the blacks be able to bless their families through Christian conversion and education. 20. Lester B. Scherer, Slavery and the Churches in Early America, 1619-1819 (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1975), pp. 157—158. The preceding shorter quotation is from p. 156. 21. Scherer, p. 158. 333 22. R F----- , The Present State of Carolina with Advice to the Setlers [sic] (London: John Bringhurst, 1682), p. 5. 23. [Thomas Nairne], A Letter from South Carolina; Giving an Ac count of the Soil, Air, Products, Trade, Government, Laws, Religion, People, Military Strength, < 5 re. of that province . . . (London: Printed for A. Baldwin, 1710), p. 31. 24. Hugh Jones, The Present State of Virginia. Giving a partic ular and short Account of the Indian, English, and Negroe Inhabitants of that Colony . . . (London: Printed for J. Clarke, 1724), pp. 37—38, 114-115. 25. Jones, p. 88. 26. See Jones, pp. 113, 114, 115. 27. John Brickell, The Natural History of North-Carolina. With an Account of the Trade, Manners, and customs of the Christian and In dian Inhabitants . . . (Dublin: James Carson, 1737), pp. 272—273; the shorter quotation is from p. 276. 28. See Brickell, pp. 274—275; the preceding shorter quotations are from pp. 274 and 276, respectively. Regarding the baptisms of slaves, Brickell notes: "The Planters call these Negroes thus Bap tized, by any whimsical Name their Fancy suggests, as, Jupiter, Mars, Venus, Diana, Strawberry, Violet, Drunkard, Readdy Money, Piper, Fid- ler, &c." (p. 274). And Brickell's account of the slaves' intimate relationships reveals that, somehow, despite their being inhumanely compelled in some instances and restrained in others, the blacks re tained humanity and deep emotions: "And though they have no other Ceremony in their Marriages than what I have represented, yet they seem to be Jealously inclined, and fight most desperately amongst themselves when they Rival each other, which they commonly do" (p. 275). 29. Brickell, p. 357. 30. See, for example, Brickell, pp. 275—276. Brickell states that "several Blacks born here . . . can Read and Write"; he does so in the context of arguing that such blacks, properly managed, can be "labor ious in improving their Plantations"— does so in the same breath that he is apologizing for the "abundance of them [slaves] given to Theft, [who] frequently steal from each other, and sometimes from the Chris tians, especially Rum, with which they entertain their Wives and Mis tresses at Night." 31. Thomas Bluett, Some Memoirs of the Life of Job, the Son of Solomon the High Priest of Boonda . . . Who was a Slave about two Years in Maryland; and afterwards being brought to England, was set free ... in the Year 1734. By Thomas Bluett, Gent, who was inti 334 mately acquainted with him in America . . . (London: Printed for Richard Ford, 1734), pp. 41, 42, 43. 32. Bluett, pp. 48, 49, 50. 33. George Whitefield, Three Letters from the Reverend Mr. George Whitefield . . . (Philadelphia: Bfenjamin] Franklin, 1740), pp. 13, 14. Enumerating specific cruelties of owners, Whitefield writes: "Your Dogs are caress'd and fondled at your Tables: But your Slaves, who are frequently stiled Dogs or Beasts, have not an equal Privilege. They are scarce permitted to pick up the Crumbs which fall from their Masters Tables. Nay, some, as I have been informed by an Eye-Witness, have been, upon the most trifling Provocation, cut with Knives, and had Forks thrown into their Flesh— Not to mention what Numbers have been given up to the inhuman Usage of cruel Task Masters, who by . . . unrelenting Scourges have ploughed upon their Backs, and made long Furrows, and at length brought them even to Death itself" (p. 13). 34. Whitefield, Three Letters, p. 14. 35. George Whitefield, A Continuation of the Reverend Mr. White- field's Journal from His Embarking ... to His Arrival at Savannah . . . (Philadelphia: B[enjamin] Franklin, 1740), p. 123. 36. Anonymous, Memoirs of an Unfortunate Young Nobleman, Return'd from a Thirteen Years Slavery in America Where he had been sent by the Wicked Contrivances of his Cruel Uncle. A Story founded on Truth . . . (London: Printed for J. Freeman, 1743), pp. 63—64. 37. Anonymous, Memoirs of an Unfortunate, p. 65. 38. Alexander Gordon, Six Letters to the Rev. Mr. George White field . . . , second ed. (Boston: T[homas] Fleet, 1740), p. 51. 39. Whitefield, Three Letters, pp. 14, 15. 40. See Whitefield, A Continuation of the . . . Journal, pp. 122— 123, 128—129. The quotation is from pp. 128—129. 41. See Stampp, pp. 22—23. See also Hugh A. Wyndham, p. 298, for descriptions of various laws passed in Southern colonies during the early and mid-1700s. The law, for example, that required a male to be white and Christian to vote was passed in South Carolina in 1716; this, as Wyndham points out, excluded blacks, mulattos and Jews from voting. Similar laws followed in the other Southern colonies; the version passed in Georgia in 1761 excluded only blacks and mulattos. In 1715, South Carolina (in an effort to ensure that free blacks would not eventually outnumber those held in slavery within its bor ders) passed legislations requiring that free blacks leave the colony within six months following their manumission or risk re-enslavement; the colonies surrounding South Carolina quickly passed similar mea sures, so that by 1741, there were virtually no free blacks living 335 permanently in any of the Southern colonies; subsequently, blacks were freed only for performing "meritorious service"— and then only when approved by the county court. 42. See McManus, p. 122. 43. McManus, pp. 122, 123. 44. See [Daniel Horsmanden], A Journal of the Proceedings in The Detection of the Conspiracy Formed by Some White People, in Conjunc tion with Negro and other Slaves, for Burning the City of New-York in America, And Murdering the Inhabitants. . . . (New-York: James Parker, |l744), Appendix, p. 11, "A List of White Persons taken into Custody on Account of the Conspiracy. 1741," and Appendix, pp. 12—15, "A List [of Negroes committed on Account of the Conspiracy." According to Horsmanden's tables, all four whites executed (John Hughson [also ("Hewson"], Sarah Hughson, Margaret Kerry [alias Salingburgh or Soru- biero, alias Peggy], and John Ury) were hanged. The remaining sixteen jtaken into custody were discharged, eight on condition of their leav ing the province. Of the blacks transported, 27 were exiled to Ma diera, 17 to Hispaniola, 9 to Cape Frangois, and 18 to various other places. A total of 33 blacks are listed as having been discharged. Unaccounted for (presumably discharged before trial) were 20 blacks. | The best sources on the "1741 Conspiracy," in addition to that by Horsmanden, are Edmund B. O'Callaghan, Documents Relative to the ^Colonial History of the State of New-York . . . (Albany: Weed, Par sons, & Co., 1855), Vol. VI, p. 186 ff., T. Wood Clarke, "The Negro Plot of 1741," in Mary E. Cunningham, ed., New York History, Volume j 25 [Proceedings of the New York State Historical Association, Volume 42] (Cooperstown, NY: State Historical Association, 1944), pp. 167- ■181; and Edgar McManus, A History of Negro Slavery in New York, pre viously cited. Regarding Horsmanden's account, O'Callaghan writes the follow ing: "Mr. Horsmanden labors hard in [his book] to prove the existence pnd extent of the conspiracy. But it is evident . . . that hostility |to Catholicism, which the British Government so industriously incul cated, tinctured his mind, and gave it a bias unfriendly to the fair (development of truth, or to the full and impartial examination of facts and circumstances. The conspiracy [seems to have] extended no farther than to create alarms [through setting fires], for committing thefts with more ease" (Vol. VII, p. 528, footnote). 45. See Horsmanden, A Journal, pp. 1—4. 46. Clarke, p. 169. 47. Clarke, p. 170. 48. Horsmanden, A Journal, p. 193; the preceding quotation is from p. 194. 336 49. Horsmanden, A Journal, p. 194. Both Campbell and Ury had been implicated by Burton, but a lack of evidence soon resulted in Camp bell's release. It would seem that Mary Burton worked with the daugh ter of John and Sarah Hughson (who was also named Sarah) in singling out Ury: he had been with Campbell when the latter came to take pos session of the Hughson property; the daughter had berated Campbell in vivid language and had been sharply reproved by Ury; conveniently, he seems to have been the source of some public mistrust. At any rate, the daughter, like her parents, was under sentence of death, and she may have seen his conviction as a means to her own release. See Hors manden, pp. 193—194; Clarke, pp. 174—176. 50. The quotations concerning Hughson are from Horsmanden, A Journal, pp. 1, 194; those concerning Peggy Kerry are from p. 2. 51. Daniel Horsmanden, Letter to Cadwallader Colden, 7 August 1741; quoted in Clarke, p. 177. 52. See Horsmanden, A Journal, p. 204; see also O'Callaghan, pp. 201- 202. 53. Horsmanden, A Journal, p. 205. Immediately following this quotation are Horsmanden's concluding words: "[But] we have not been able entirely to unravel the Mystery of this Iniquity; for 'twas a dark Design, and the Veil is in some Measure still upon it!" 54. [Thomas Bacon], Two Sermons, Preached to a Congregation of Black Slaves ... In the Province of Maryland. By an American Pastor. i . . (London: John Oliver, 1749), pp. 30—31. The shorter quotation is from p. 37. 55. Stampp, p. 18. 56. See Anonymous, Observations on the Inslaving, importing and purchasing of Negroes; With some Advice thereon, extracted from the kpistle of the Yearly-Meeting of the People called Quakers, held at London, in the Year 1748 .... Second edition (Germantown: Chris topher Sower, 1760), pp. 10—11; the preceding shorter quotation is from p. 9. 57. John Woolman, Considerations on Keeping Negroes; Recommended to the Professors of Christianity of every Denomination. . . . (Phila delphia: B. Franklin & D. Hall, 1762), p. 5. 58. Woolman, pp. 8, 9. 59. The longer quotation is from Woolman, p. 23; the shorter ex cerpts are from pp. 29, 30. 60. Woolman, p. 24. 61. Woolman, p. 24. 337 62. Woolman, pp. 32, 34. 63. The following note on Benezet is found in [Joseph Samson?], A Poetical Epistle to the Enslaved Africans, in the Character of an ^Ancient Negro, Born a Slave in Pennsylvania . . . (Philadelphia: Jos eph Crukshank, 1790), p. 18: "ANTHONY BENEZET, a native of France, was born at St. Quintin, in Picardy, anno 1712. His Parents were zealous Protestants, who hav ing suffered greatly under the long and oppressive reign of Lewis |(sic] XIV. withdrew into Great Britain a short time before the death of that prince. They resided some years in the city of London, where jthe elder BENEZET embraced the religious principles of the People called Quakers. In 1731 he again removed with his Family, and finally settled in Pennsylvania. ANTHONY, the eldest Son, had been brought up jto business; but becoming dissatisfied with mercantile concerns, he accepted the offer of a place in the Society's Academy in Philadel phia, as English Master; soon after his marriage, in 1736. This use ful employment was congenial to his diligent habit, and benevolent jtemper. The vivacity of his Nation was happily tempered in his com position, by the sober and exemplary conduct observable in the Chris tian Society of which he was a Member; indeed so uniform was his as siduous attention to the duties of life, even in old age, that he ponscientiously denied himself the unnecessary part of those hours usually allotted to rest. ... He occasionally interested himself on behalf of all his distressed Fellow-Creatures, from his first arrival !in America, spending a great part of his time and estate in unremit- |ted endeavours to serve the Poor and the Friendless. . . . The few hours unappropriated to his school, and other necessary engagements, were generally employed in the compilation of instructive passages . . . with respect to the injured African." 64. See Bruns, p. 79. 65. [Anthony Benezet], A Short Account Of that Part of Africa, Inhabited by the Negroes. With Respect to the Fertility of the Coun try; the good Disposition of many of the Natives, and the Manner by which the Slave Trade is carried on. Extracted from divers Authors, in order to shew the Iniquity of that Trade, and the Falsity of the Arguments usually advanced in its Vindication. With Quotations from the Writings of several persons of Note . . . , Second edition (Phila delphia: W[illiam] Dunlap, 1762), p. 5. 66. Benezet, A Short Account, pp. 71-7-2. The long phrases in jbrackets, "is necessary to the common occasions of life" and "in our southern or most western colonies," are from a subsequent printing of jBenezet's proposal (in Anthony Benezet, Some Historical Account of Guinea, Its Situation, Produce and the general Disposition of its Inhabitants. With An inquiry into the Rise and progress of the Slave- Trade, its Nature and lamentable Effects. . . . [Philadelphia: Joseph jCrukshank, 1771], pp. 138—141), and replace ambiguous phrases in Benezet's earlier draft. 338 67. In addition to the source mentioned in the previous note, 3enezet's proposal also appears in Anthony Benezet, Short Observa tions on Slavery . . . (Philadelphia: Enoch Story, [1785]), pp. 7—8. Following Benezet's death, the Pennsylvania Abolition Society (with Benjamin Franklin as President, James Pemberton as one of two Vice- Presidents, and Benjamin Rush as one of two Secretaries) took up his proposal in their first meetings in the spring of 1787 (see Bruns, pp. 510-515). j A plan proposed by an anonymous British writer in 1772 may have been influenced by Benezet; it appears in A Plan for the Abolition of Slavery in the West Indies (London: Printed for William Griffin, 1772); despite the pamphlet's title, it is concerned with a proposal for freeing American slaves as well as those in the West Indies. The writer's proposal is that "a certain number of male and female chil dren" from the West Indies and America be brought to Britain annually ["for the period of fifteen years," educated in charity-schools until reaching the age of fourteen, and then "practically instructed in 'gardening and agriculture" for two years after that. Then, "at the age of sixteen, they be married and sent to some district near Pen sacola, to be at present reserved for this purpose." The "consequence of the proposed settlement," says the anonymous writer, will be, that the settlers will increase, they will cultivate, they will trade, they will overflow; they will become labour ers and artizans in the neighbouring provinces; they will, being freemen, be more industrious, more skilful [sic], and, upon the whole, work cheaper than slaves (the prime cost of slaves and the wages of overseers considered) and slavery will thereupon necessarily cease. They will acquire property in those provinces, they will intermarry with whites; the produce of such marriages, partaking of both climates and both complexions, will possess the middle space; the present prejudices arising from complexion, will wear away, and co lour will be no longer opprobrious: the whites will inhabit the northern colonies; and to the south, the complexion will blacken by a regular gradation. The change not being violent and sudden, will on that account, among others, not become the mark of distinction, or the object of hatred and hostil ity: the middle parts will link the two extremes in union and friendship. They will talk the same language, read the same books, profess the same religion, and be fashioned by the same laws: they will all depend on the same mother-country, and the blacks, as the children of adoption, perhaps with more gratitude and affection: nor will there ... be any real causes of dissention between them: nature herself, as it should seem, will necessarily link them in intercourse and concord (pp. 17, 25—26). Benezet's proposal— as weak as it may appear to modern sensibilities j — is the stronger of the two: the proposal discussed above would have been entirely unworkable for a variety of reasons: difficulties of transportation and ensuing expenses; legal ramifications of taking the slave property of owners in the West Indies and America; and set tlement difficulties in the Florida territory. 339 68. Ant[hony] Benezet, A Caution and Warning to Great Britain and iier Colonies, in a Short Representation of the Calamitous State of the Enslaved Negroes in the British Dominions. . . . (Philadelphia: Henry Miller, 1766), p. 12. 69. Benezet, A Caution and Warning, p. 19. 70. Benezet, A Caution and Warning, pp. 19—20. 71. Benezet, A Caution and Warning, pp. 4—5. 72. Bruns, p. 145. 73. Benezet, Some Historical Account of Guinea, pp. 8, 99, 115 [note], 116 [note]. 74. Benezet, Some Historical Account of Guinea, pp. 64—65. Pre- yious shorter quotations in this paragraph are from pp. 60 and 128; the account of the slave ship which caught fire is in a footnote, pp. 125—126; the long block quotation is from pp. 63—64. 75. [Anthony Benezet], Notes on the Slave Trade. [Philadelphia: Joseph Crukshank, 1781], p. 8. 76. [Nathaniel Appleton], Considerations on Slavery. In a Letter to a Friend (Boston: Edes & Gill, 1767), pp 14—15. 77. Appleton, pp. 19—20; the preceding shorter quotations in this paragraph are from p. 19. 78. Granville Sharp, Extract from a Representation of the Injus tice and Dangerous Tendency of Tolerating Slavery, Or Admitting the least Claim of private Property in the Persons of Men in England . . . (Philadelphia: Joseph Crukshank, 1771), p. 20. Sharp's essay skill fully balances anecdote and fact, emotion and objectivity. For exam ple, in the following passage Sharp quotes a slave notice which had recently appeared in a London paper and then comments on it: "To be SOLD for Want of Employment, "... A healthy Negroe Wench, of about 21 years old, is a tolerable Cook, and capable of doing all sorts of house-work, can be well recommended for her honesty and sobriety: She has a female child of nigh three years old, which will be sold with the Wench if required, <Sra" Here is not the least con sideration or scruple of conscience for the inhumanity of parting the mother and young child. From the stile, one would suppose the Advertisement to be of no more importance than if it related merely to the sale of a cow and her calf, and that the cow should be sold with or without her calf according as the purchaser should require (pp. 14—15). And regarding the role of "color" in the slave trade, Sharp insists: The distinction of colour will, in a short time, be no pro tection against such outrages, especially, as not only Ne- 340 groes, but Mullatoes [sic], and even American Indians, . . . are retained in slavery in our American colonies; for there are many honest weather-beaten Englishmen, who have as little reason to boast of their complexion as the Indians. And in deed the more northern Indians, have no difference from us in complexion, but such as is occasioned by the climate or dif ferent way of living (pp. 18—19). 79. Sharp, p. 39. 80. [Richard Nisbet], Slavery not Forbidden by Scripture. Or a Defence of the West-Indla Planters, from the Aspersions Thrown out ' against Them . . . (Philadelphia: n.p., 1773), pp. 14—15). This pam phlet was written in reponse to Benjamin Rush's An Address to the Inhabitants of the British Settlements in America, Upon Slave-Keep ing, referred to later in this chapter. See Note 90. 81. [Theodore Parsons and Eliphalet Pearson], A Forensic Dispute on The Legality of enslaving the Africans, Held At the public Com mencement in Cambridge, New-England, July 21st, 1773. By Two Can didates For the Bachelor's Degree (Boston: John Boyle, 1773), p. 11. ■The preceding shorter quotations are from p. 9. Pearson also uses jthis tired argument in support of slavery: "Whether it is not better ■for them [the African blacks] to reside here [in America], notwith standing such subordination [as now exists], . . . than in their na tive country, no one can doubt, at least no one, who has a tolerably adequate conception of their misery, and wretchedness there" (see pp. 24-25). 82. See Parsons and Pearson, p. 18. 83. [David Cooper], A Mite cast into the Treasury: Or, Observa tions on Slave-Keeping. . . . (Philadelphia: n.p., 1772), pp. iii—iv. 84. Cooper, A Mite, pp. 6, 7. 85. Anonymous, Personal Slavery Established, By the Suffrages of Custom and Right Reason. Being a Full Answer To the gloomy and vis ionary Reveries, of all the fanatical and ethusiastical Writers on that Subject. . . . (Philadelphia: John Dunlap, 1773), p. 3. 86. Anonymous, Personal Slavery Established, pp. 7, 8—9. 87. [Arthur Lee], An Essay in Vindication of the Continental Colonies of America from A Censure of Mr. Adam Smith . . . (London: Printed for the Author, 1764), pp. 13, 38. See especially pp. 11-14. Although the ideology of this pamphlet was rarely a component of published anti-abolitionist cant following 1740, it was unfortunately kept alive in the minds of slaveholders and those who supported slavery. 88. Anonymous, Personal Slavery Established, pp. 22—23. 341 89. Anonymous, Personal Slavery Established, p. 26. This para graph concludes the essay. 90. [Benjamin Rush], An Address to the Inhabitants of the British Settlements in America, Upon Slave-Keeping. The Second Edition. To ythich are added, Observations on a Pamphlet, entitled, "Slavery not forbidden by Scripture; Or, A defence of the West-India Planters." 1 . . (Philadelphia: John Dunlap, 1773), pp. 2—3; footnote, p. 3. The brief passages quoted earlier in the paragraph are from pp. 1 and 2. The second of these two pamphlets was written in response to a tract tay Richard Nisbet. See Note 80. 91. Rush, An Address, pp. 12—13, 15. 92. The long passage is from Benjamin Rush, A Vindication of the Address, To the Inhabitants of the British Settlements, on the Slav ery of the Negroes in America, in Answer to a Pamphlet entitled, [ 'Slavery Not Forbidden by Scripture; Or a Defence of the West-India Planters from the Aspersions thrown out against them by the Author of the Address." . . . (Philadelphia: John Dunlap, 1773), pp. 13—14. The shorter quotations are from Rush, An Address, p. 17. 93. Rush, An Address, pp. 19—20. 94. See Bruns, p. 22. 95. See Bruns, headnote, p. 491. 96. [David Cooper], A Serious Address to the Rulers of America, On the Inconsistency of their Conduct respecting Slavery: Forming a Contrast Between the Encroachments of England on American Liberty, And, American Injustice in tolerating Slavery. . . . (Trenton: Isaac Collins, 1783), title page, p. 13. 97. Cooper, A Serious Address, pp. 14—15. 98. [Samuel Hopkins], A Dialogue Concerning the Slavery of the Africans; Shewing it to be the Duty and Interest of the American States to emancipate all their African Slaves. . . . (New-York: Robert Hodge, 1785), p. 60. An earlier edition was published in Norwich by Judah Spooner in 1776. 99. Charles Crawford, Observations upon Negro-Slavery . . . (Phil adelphia: Joseph Crukshank, 1784), p. 13. 100. Samson, pp. 11, 20. He also writes: "But my glad Soul antici pates the day, / When Men no more on Fellow-Men shall prey, / Or dare - j — pretending policy and fate, / Divine and human laws to violate" (p. 20) . 101. James Dana, The African Slave Trade. A Discourse Delivered in the City of New-Haven, September 9, 1790, Before the Connecticut So 342 ciety for the Promotion of Freedom. . . . (New-Haven: Thomas and Sam uel Green, 1791), pp. 28—29, 31, 33. 102. See Dana, p. 31. 103. [Edward Rushton], Expos tula tory Letter to George Washington, of Mount Vernon, In Virginia, on his Continuing to be a Proprietor of Slaves. . . . (Liverpool: n.p., 1797), pp. 5, 8—10, 12—13, 14. Rushton declares further: "The hypocritical bawd who preaches chastity, yet lives by the violation of it, is not more truly disgusting, than one of your slave-holding gentry bellowing in favor of democracy" (p. 21). 104. Rushton, p. 23. 105. Rushton, p. 3. 106. Jupiter Hammon [or Hammond], An Address to the Negroes In the State of New-York, By Jupiter Hammon, Servant of John Lloyd . . . (■New-York: Carroll & Patterson, 1787), pp. 7, 13. It is an ironic if lamentable side note on white perceptions of black intelligence, even as late as 1787, that the editors found it necessary to include the following address "To the Public": As this Address is wrote in a better Stile than could be ex pected from a slave, some may be ready to doubt of the gen uineness of the production. The Author, as he informs in the title page, is a servant of Mr. Lloyd, and has been remark able for his fidelity and abstinence from those vices, which he warns his brethren against. The manuscript wrote in his own hand, is in our possession. We have made no material al terations in it, except in the spelling, which we found needed considerable correction. . . . New-York, 20th. Feb. 1787. (iv) Richard Nisbet, the British abolitionist, faced similar misconcep tions when he wrote The capacity of Negroes for Religious and Moral Improvement Considered . . . (London: James Phillips, 1789). He de clared, "The extreme inattention of masters to cultivate virtuous principles among their slaves, and to govern them as man ought to be governed, arises, in a great measure, [from the force of evil custom upon the mind,] from a rooted opinion against their talents for receiving instruction" (iv). 107. [William Innes], The Slave-Trade Indispensable: In Answer to the Speech of William Wilber force, Esq. On the 13th of May, 1789. By West-India-Merchant. . . . (London: W. Richardson, 1790), p. 8. The preceding shorter quotations are from pp. 6 and 7. 108. Anonymous, The True State of the Question, Addressed to the Petitioners for the Abolition of the Slave Trade. By a Plain Man, who Signed the Petition at Derby (London: Printed for J. Bell, 1792), p. 343 109. Anonymous, The True State of the Question, pp. 4—5. 110. Anonymous, The True State of the Question, p. 8. 111. [Alexander Geddes], An Apology for Slavery; or, Six Cogent Arguments against the Immediate Abolition of the Slave-Trade. . . . (London: Printed for J. Johnson, 1792), pp. 45—46. Geddes goes on to declare: It is vain, after this, to talk to us of the various calami ties, hardships, and afflictions, which the slaves are ob liged to undergo. It is in vain to paint in the most glowing colours, the dreadful series of unabating misery that attends them, in all its shapes, from the moment they become our property, until they become the property of worms. In vain has evidence on evidence been produced to ascertain the cruel barbarities that are practised on them by their unfeeling masters. In vain have their bleeding wounds, and mangled limbs, and ulcered legs, been exposed to public commisera tion. In vain has the muse . . . sung their melting laments; in vain the pen . . . described their despair.— British Inter est, British Luxury, British Self-expediency, have neither eyes to see, nor ears to hear, their despair or their lamen tations (p. 46). 112. Noah Webster, Effects of Slavery on Morals and Industry [Hartford: Hudson & Goodwin, 1793), p. 33. Compare his thoughts on blacks and slavery with those on Indians and morality described in Noah Webster, On the Morality of Savage Nations, in A Collection of Essays and Fugitive Writings. On Moral, Historical, Political and Literary Subjects . . . (Boston: Thomas and Andrews, 1790), pp. 233 ::f., cited in the previous chapter. 113. William Patten, On the Inhumanity of the Slave-Trade, and the Importance of correcting it. . . . (Providence: J[ohn] Carter, 1793), p. 6. 114. Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 5. 115. Webster, Effects of Slavery, pp. 6, 7, 8; but see pp. 6—17. Webster summarizes significant influences of slavery on the character of the slave in these words: On general principles, it is to be presumed that Africans who are bred in freedom, and enslaved after they have acquired habits of frankness and ingenuousness of deportment, will either retain through life a large portion of their early virtues; and if they attempt to redress their own wrongs, that they will be bold and manly in their attacks upon their oppressors. Negroes, on the other hand, who are born and nursed under the pressure of bondage, will be destitute of that openness of character which marks the wild freedom of savages, and their minds will sink into a state of sullen apathy; or prompted to action by a sense of injury and re 344 strained by fear from open violence, they will exercise their ingenuity in devising and committing petty frauds on their masters ... or burglaries, . . . rapes, ... or murders (P-13). 116. Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 18. 117. Webster, Effects of Slavery, pp. 22, 28. But see pp. 22—28, inclusive. To emphasize the burden of slavery on American culture, Webster writes: In the short period of 170 years, since our ancestors landed on these shores, a trackless wilderness, inhabited only -by savages and wild beasts, is converted into fruitful fields and meadows, more highly cultivated than one half of Europe. But while we indulge the pleasure of viewing this ani mating prospect, let us not forget that of 4,000,000 of In habitants in the United States, almost 700,000 are slaves; a circumstance which cannot fail to allay the joy, that the prosperous state of the country would otherwise inspire in every patriotic bosom. Detestable was the policy which first introduced the practice of cultivating plantations by slaves; and both in a political and moral view, deplorable are the consequences of that policy (p. 33). 118. Webster, Effects of Slavery, pp. 34—35. The preceding shorter quotations are from p. 37. For a brief but enlightening treatment of Abraham Lincoln's perceptions of the conflict between immediate manu mission and the public good, see Brooks, Lewis, and Warren, Vol. I, I>. 1048. It might be well to note in this context that Brooks, Lewis and Warren establish careful distinctions between "abolition" and "emancipation" in their discussion of slavery and those who opposed it (see pp. 334-337). The reader has undoubtedly observed that no such distinctions are preserved in the present chapter: early Ameri can writings use the terms interchangeably, the former term appearing with the greater frequency. 119. Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 36; for Webster on the pro posal of returning the blacks to Africa, see p. 35. 120. All quotations here are from Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 38. 121. St. George Tucker, A Dissertation on Slavery: With a Proposal for the Gradual Abolition of It, in the State of Virginia . . . (Phil adelphia: Printed for Matthew Carey, 1796), pp. 93—94. See also pp. 90-92. 122. Tucker, p. 94. 123. Benjamin Rush, Extract of a Letter ... to Granville Sharp (iLondon: James Phillips, 1792), pp. 4, 5. 345 124. [Absolom Jones?], "To the Friends of Liberty and Religion in the City of Philadelphia," in Rush, Extract of a Letter, p. 7. The letter is dated August 27th, 1791, and is signed by Absolom Jones, William White, Mark Stevenson, and six other blacks. 125. A[bsolom] J[ones] and R[ichard] A[llen], A Narrative of the Proceedings of the Black People, During the Late Awful Calamity in Philadelphia, In the Year 1793: And a Refutation of some Censures, Thrown upon them in some late Publications (Philadelphia: William W. Woodward, 1794), p. 3. 126. Jones and Allen, pp. 8, 13—14, 15, 17. 127. Jones and Allen, p. 20. Immediately following this sentence, Jones writes: We shall now conclude with the following old proverb, which we think applicable to those of our colour who exposed their lives in the late afflicting dispensation:— God and a soldier, all men do adore In time of war, and not before; When the war is over, and all things righted, God is forgotten, and the soldier slighted (p. 20). Matthew Clarkson, Mayor of Philadelphia, attests in a postscript to jthe "diligence, attention and decency of deportment" of Jones, Allen and their employees, dated January 23, 1794 (p. 23). 128. Jones and Allen, pp. 24, 25. 129. Jones and Allen, p. 27. 130. Signed "Absalom Jones, Richard Allen," this passage concludes the central portion of the pamphlet, pp. 27—28. 131. Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 33. 132. See Bruns, p. xxxvi. The advertisement was placed by Jeffer son in the Virginia Gazette, September 14, 1769: RUN away from the subscriber in Albemarle, a Mulatto slave called Sandy, about 35 years of age, his stature is rather low, inclining to corpulence, and his complexion light; he is a shoemaker by trade, in which he uses his left hand prin cipally, can do coarse carpenters work, and is something of a horse jockey; he is greatly addicted to drink, and when drunk is insolent and disorderly, in his conversation he swears much, and in his behaviour is artful and knavish. He took with him a white horse, much scarred with traces, of which it is expected he will endeavour to dispose; he also carried his shoemakers tools, and will probably endeavour to get employ ment that way. Whoever conveys the said slave to me, in Al bemarle, shall have 40 s. reward, if taken up within the county, 4 1. if elsewhere within the colony, and 10 1. if in any other colony, from THOMAS JEFFERSON. 346 133. Anonymous, ed. Baxter's Directions to Slave-Holders, Revived . . . (Philadelphia: Francis Bailey, 1785), p. 4. 134. See W[illiam] 0. Blake, The History of Slavery and the Slave Trade, Ancient and Modern. . . . (Columbus: J. & H. Miller, 1857; re printed Detroit: Negro History Press, 1971), p. xvi. Blake says he is quoting from the Conversation Lexicon. 135. See William Sumner Jenkins, Pro-Slavery Thought in the Old South (Glouster, MA: Peter Smith, 1960), p. vii. Jenkins continues: The misfortune to the South was that its mental power was taken out of other fields of endeavor at a time when it could have been most fruitful in the development of a higher civ ilization. The South produced profound intellects; but mental energy was so much used up in the perfection of an irrefut able justification of slavery that the finer features of Southern life were neglected, and consequently imperilled. And, as a consequence, it was also [a] tragedy that the North in attacking slavery, attacked everything Southern. The abo litionist, believing that slavery violated the entire way of Southern life, could have no appreciation of the social values inherent in the South. . . . The theories of the slaveholder gave offense to those who thought chattel slavery morally wrong, and these theories caused a certain regimentation of Southern life. Conclusive among these ideas, as the Southerner thought, was the "Positive Good" theory, which claimed for the laborer, and in application provided, social security. Chattel slavery today may provoke the interest only of the antiquarian; but, with the compensating element of security for the workman, slave society may well challenge the interest and study of those seeking such security, through a fairer distribution of the social product, in a free society, from which a system of wage slavery has not yet been eradicated (pp. vii—viii). Stampp also addresses similar themes; he suggests that 1830 was the date when slavery became irrevocably established in the South. See pp. 27—29. 136. See Fred[erick] A. Ross, Slavery Ordained of God (Philadel phia: J.B. Lipincott, 1857), pp. 101, 103. The title page states that Ross was "Pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Huntsville, Alabama." 137. Webster, Effects of Slavery, p. 33. 3 4 7 CHAPTER 5 Humanitarian Essays 3: Moral Writings for Children and Youth As defined in preceding chapters, the American Humanitarian Es say had its origins in an intense practicality. The practicality at the roots of books and other moral writings for children was of a rather unusual sort, deriving from the omnipresence of death in Puri tan society. Increase Mather repeatedly emphasized in a 1697 funeral sermon for two drowned Harvard youths that "the Miserable Children of Men, know not their Time''1; doubts as to life expectancy were com pounded for those under twenty. Puritanism dominated New World af fairs at a period when virtually every colonial family was keenly and personally aware of the tenuous hold which an infant or child had on life. For a set of parents to be survived by all their offspring was extremely rare, if not miraculous. And because the child who died unrepentant and unredeemed was forever lost, it is only natural that the deeply religious Puritan society would be obsessed with the spir itual education of its children— an obsession that, in varying de grees, became characteristic of early American society in general. Indicative of this obsession are the opening lines of Cotton Mather's remonstrative preface to A Token for the Children of New- England (1700): "If the Children of New-England should not with an 348 Early Piety, set themselves to Know and Serve the Lord JESUS CHRIST, the GOD of their Fathers, they will be condemned."2 Education, for the Puritans, was primarily literary; it was also highly utilitarian. k child learned to read so that, first and foremost, he might study the Bible. A knowledge of Latin and Greek gave him access to Europe's ■finest scriptural commentaries. The ability to write enabled him to preserve, for the inspiration and motivation of others, a record of I his conversion and spiritual maturation. Even the study of such sub jects as science and history served a religious purpose: scientific inquiry persuaded the student of the wonder and mystery of God's crea tion; seen through the Puritan lens, history provided countless les sons in the wisdom of adhering to and the folly of ignoring divine injunctions. In theory, Puritan educational standards did not differ sig nificantly from those British standards; in practice, however, the colonists were unique in their attempts to appropriately and thor oughly train every child. In Massachusetts, the Acts of 1642 and 1647 provided for the appointing of one schoolmaster for every fifty fami lies. Although public schools and compulsory education were develop ments of later centuries, even the earliest Puritans believed that the training of their children— whether under their own or a school master's tutelage— was an incumbent and crucial responsibility. Be cause the first and best schools were established in New England, and because the first American primers were published there as well, Pur itan educational ideals significantly influenced educational policies of the other colonies.3 349 Puritan arguments for universal education re-echoed throughout early America; following the Revolution, the new government provided for the establishment of public schools and took its first faltering steps towards fostering compulsory education.4 And while the concept of liberal education began to receive widespread attention with the establishment of Franklin's Academy in 1751, the majority of American colonists almost certainly would have agreed with Jonathan Edwards when he argued three years later in A careful and strict Enquiry 1(1754) that of all Kinds of Knowle[d]ge that we can ever obtain, the Knowledge of God, and the Knowle[d]ge of our selves, are the most important. As Religion is the great Business, for which we are created, and on which our Happiness depends; and as Religion consists in an Intercourse between our selves and our Maker; and so has it's [sic] Foundation in God's Nature and our's [sic], and in the Relation that God and we stand to each other; therefore a true Knowledge of both must be need ful in Order to true Religion.5 It is somewhat ironic, as James Bowen has observed, that the branch Lf the Franklin Academy to survive, eventually becoming the Univer sity of Pennsylvania, was its classical language and not its English language branch;5 indeed, American schools and academies espousing liberal curricula did not become commonplace until the mid-1800s. And, by and large, those offering a "purely secular" education are a twentieth-century phenomena. Although it is a relatively simple matter to demonstrate that Puritan ideals shaped colonial educational policy and that, accord ingly, New England publications established both the tone and stan dard of children's works appearing elsewhere in early America, it is quite another to explain exactly what constituted "literature for 350 children" b efo re 1800. d'Alte Welch lim its e n tr ie s in h is A Bibliog raphy of American Children’ s Books Printed Prior to 1821 to th o se "designed fo r c h ild re n under f if te e n y e a r s o f age," th e "type o f book read a t le is u r e fo r p leasu re" and " o r ig in a lly w ritten fo r c h ild ren or jabridged fo r them from an a d u lt version ." Welch e x c lu d e s from h is l is t in g a ll b r o a d sid es, sch o o lb o o k s, a d v ice books, serm ons, and c a te - Lhisms, but in c lu d e s books o f r id d le s, p o etry and n a tu ra l h isto r y . In h is Children’ s Books in England and America in the Seventeenth Cen tury, William S loan e p u rp o rts to exam ine a l l books w ritten fo r or by ch ild ren ; in tru th , h is d is c u s s io n i s lim ited to a d v ic e books, r e lig io u s tr a c ts , m o r a listic (and o fte n tra g ic) n a r r a tiv e s, and fa ir y t a le s or o th er tr a d itio n a l s t o r ie s . Jerome G riswold attem p ts to "sort e a rly American c h ild re n 's lit e r a tu r e out o f a jum ble . . . of n o n lit- erary works— ABC books, prim ers and catech ism s, b ro a d sid es, l iv e s o f h ero es, books o f n a tu ra l h isto r y , so n g and hymn books, tr a v e l s t o r ie s , game and to y b o o k s."7 Sloane, Griswold and Welch a ll u se su b je ct m atter and sim p lic ity o f lan gu age and s t y le in d is tin g u ish in g c h il dren's books from th o s e in ten d ed fo r a d u lts; Welch a ls o r e fe r s to s iz e and form at. 8 An analysis of American writings for children prior to 1800 is complicated by the proliferation of pirated British works in the col onies, together with the fact that most children's books were pub lished anonymously, both in America and in England, making it dif ficult to trace authorship or, in some cases, country of origin. Welch says simply that "the majority of American children's books are reprinted from English editions."9 351 Furthermore, it seems that early American children gave their books "hard use" just as they do today: comparatively few extant pub lications for juveniles remain, and of those that do, many are dam aged. Numerous titles presumably have been lost; others are known only through advertisements appearing in extant works. The prepon derance of Welch's bibliographical listings are post-1800 imprints,- between 1800 and 1821, he writes, "a veritable flood of books were published."10 In short, uniquely American children's literature be fore 1800 comprises only a brief catalog of several dozen titles. These titles fall into five primary categories: 1) religious writings, consisting of youth tracts, published sermons, and exempli ficative histories; 2) writings on social morality, including "advice pamphlets," social narratives, and essays on adolescent sexuality; 3) primers and other schoolbooks; 4) escapist narratives, where morality is incidental to plot and authorial purpose; and 5) books of science and history.11 Of these, the latter category is comprised almost ex clusively of reprinted British works and receives only passing atten tion in this discussion. Essays on adolescent sexuality are treated in a subsequent chapter. Generally perceived as the first children's book in America, John Cotton's Milk for Babes, Drawn Out of the Breasts of both Testa ments (1646) is a brief catechism designed to teach children of Puri tan believers the Ten Commandments and fundamental concepts of Chris tian duty. Informing children that their "corrupt nature is empty of 352 Grace, bent unto sinne, and onely unto sinne, and that continually," Milk for Babes reveals much about New England culture and its ideals ojf juvenile morality. Of the fourth, fifth and seventh commandments, for example, the catechism instructs: Qu. What is the fourth Commandement? A Remember that thou keep holy the Sabbath day, &c. Q. What is the meaning of this Commandement? A That we should rest from labor and much more from play on the Lords day, that we may draw nigh to God in holy duties. Quest. What is the fifth Commandement? Answ. Honour thy Father, and thy mother, that thy dayes may be long in the land, which the Lord thy God giveth thee. Quest. Who are here meant by Father and mother? Answ. All our superiours, whether in Family, School, Church, and Commonwealth. Quest. What is the honour due to them? Answ. Reverence, obedience, and (when I am able) Recompence. . . . Quest. What is the seventh Commandement? Answ. Thou shalt not commit Adultery. Quest. What is the sinne here forbidden? Answ. To defile our selves or others with unclean lusts. Quest. What is the duty here commanded? Answ. Chastity, to possesse our vesels [sic] in holi- nesse and honour.^ ere, Cotton outlines a more rigid reading of Old Testament law than tihat provided by Moses himself; Milk for Babes is a notable example of the concept of irrefutable and inveterate subservience (of chil- c ren to their superiors, of wives to husbands, of believers to God) often associated with Puritan culture. The diction of Cotton's catechism is typical of that used by children's writers through the middle of the eighteenth century, much closer to the language of the Bible that of modern storybooks or readers. Indeed, the first version of the Bible for children was not published in New England until 1717;13 until then, children were en couraged by their parents to study the King James Bible as soon as 353 they learned to read. Between 1646 and 1700, most New England chil dren were conversant with only three primary works: the Bible, Milk for Babes, and Foxe's Book of Martyrs. Outside New England, where books intended for youth would not be published until the mid-1700s, children were taught almost exclusively from the Bible. Although John Foxe's Actes and Monuments of these latter and perillous dayes (1563; commonly called The Book of Martyrs) was by no means written for children, it rapidly became a staple of childhood religious training among British Puritans. A century later, expanded multi-volume editions were recommended reading for youth in New Eng land. Filled with "inspiring" anecdotes of torture and martyrdom, the Book of Martyrs, in Welch's words, is often disconcerting to a modern reader, but [its depiction of] tor tures probably did not faze the Puritan children, who de voured Foxe's book, any more than the death of another cowboy on television affects my six-year-old son. As was true of many children's books published in America after 1700, Foxe's work is a history of triumphant morality, glorifying be lievers who gave their lives rather than succumb to temptation— whether such allurements originated from social/political constraints or from Satan himself. To be sure, some of Foxe's sketches are merely shocking, such as that of one "Agatha, a holy virgin of Sicily," who was imprisoned, beaten, starved, placed on the rack, and "rolled . . . upon sharp shells and hot coals, having moreover her breasts cut from her body." But most have an implicit moral or cautionary purpose. For example, Foxe writes of "a certain youth" who, during the early Roman persecutions, "could not otherwise with torments [be] remove[d] from his Christianity." Eventually, the youth is ordered to be 354 laid upon a soft bed in a pleasant garden, among the flour ishing lilies and red roses; which done, all others being removed away, and himself there alone, a beautiful harlot came to him, who embraced him, and with all other incitements of an harlot laboured to provoke him to her naughtiness. But the godly youth, fearing God more than obeying flesh, bit off his own tongue with his teeth, and spit it in the face of the harlot, as she was kissing him; and so got he the victory, by the constant grace of the Lord assisting him.15 Foxe also writes of "a certain bailiff, of Crowland in Lincolnshire, named Burton," who, during the reign of Mary, attempted to squelch Puritan worship, threatening curates and parishioners alike. While he was riding out on business one day, a crow "took her flight over his head, singing after her wonted note, 'Knave, knave!' and withal let fall upon his face, so that her excrements ran from the top of his nose down to his beard": The poisoned scent and savour whereof so noyed [sic] his stomach, that he never ceased vomiting until he came home, wherewith his heart was so sore and his body so distempered, that for extreme sickness he got him to bed; and so lying, he was not able for the stink in his stomach and painful vomit ing, to receive any relief of meat or drink, but cried out still, sorrowfully complaining of that stink, and with no small oaths cursed the crow that poisoned him. To make short, he continued but a few days, but with extreme pain of vomit ing and crying, he desperately died, without any token of repentance of his former life. This was reported and testi fied, for a certainty, by divers of his neghbours, both hon est and credible persons.15 Selections from the Book of Martyrs, together with commentary appro priate to its intended audience, were eventually compiled in Thomas White's A Little Book For Little Children (ca. 1690); the first Amer ican edition was published in Boston in 1702. In the meantime, another volume for young readers had appeared, one comprised of the first children's narratives to be published in America. This was A Token for Children, Being An Exact Account of the 355 Conversion, Holy and Exemplary Lives and Joyful Deaths of several Young Children (1700), the work of James Janeway, a Puritan minister in Britain. Janeway's volume is clearly divergent from those by Foxe and the numerous writers who imitated him. In the first place, ob viously, Janeway is writing to an audience of children, not adults; his concern is with the histories of pious young people, not those of grown martyrs. In the second, his emphasis is on common Christianity instead of "Christian heroics": his book proposes to inspire admira tion and emulation while Foxe's seems designed to provoke awe, fear, even horror. Nevertheless, his anecdotes of repentant beggars, stu dious young lads and beautiful little girls share with Foxe's a stern morality and an almost fanatical glorification of death. In the context of American literature, however, the true signif icance of Janeway's book is that it was issued under the same cover with Cotton Mather's A Token for the Children of New-England, Or, Some Examples of Children, in whom the Fear of God was remarkably Budding before they died, a brief work comprised of the first juve nile narratives by an American author. In composing his personalized addition to Janeway's text, Mather assumed that "the Church-History of New-England' was comprised of "the Lives of many eminent Persons, among whose Eminencies, not the least was, Their fearing of the Lord from their Youth, and their being loved by the Lord when they were Children." Given special prominence in Mather's volume are members of his own family, including his dead brother Nathanael whom he recom mends as having been— at the age of seventeen— "an Instance of more than common Learning and Virtue," a "Hard Student, a Good Scholar 356 and a Great Christian." More typical of his method and tone, however, is his fourth "Example," the account of a five-year-old girl: ANN GREENOUGH, the Daughter of Mr. William Greenough, left the World, when she was but about five Years old, and yet gave astonishing Discoveries of a Regard unto GOD and CHRIST, and her own Soul, before she went away. When she heard any Thing about the Lord Jesus Christ, she would be strangely transported, and ravished in her Spirit at it; and had an unspeakable Delight in Catechising. She would put strange Questions about eternal Things, and make Answers her self that were extreamly pertinent. Once particularly, she asked, Are not we dead In Sin? and presently added, But I will take this away, the Lord Jesus Christ shall make me alive. She was very frequent and constant in her secret Prayer, and could not with any Patience be interrupted in it. She told her gra cious Mother, That she there prayed for her! And was covetous of being with her Mother, when she imagined such Duties to be going forward. When she fell sick at last of a Consumption, she would not by any sports be diverted form the Tho'ts of Death, wherein she took such Pleasure, that she did not Care to hear of any Thing else. And if she were asked, Whether she were willing to die? She would chearfully reply. Ah, hy all Means, that I may go to the Lord Jesus Christ.1” With the assistance of British Puritans, Mather had introduced an American literary form that would endure for another century and a half, the "narrative of early piety." Because such narratives clearly implied the necessity of juvenile spiritual preparation for illness and death, often demonstrating the "rewards of readiness" through sentimental accounts of the mortally ill, they might appropriately be called "childhood death narratives." They insist on themes common to contemporary sermons and poetry for children: the brevity of life, the magnitude of eternity, and the folly— even for the young— of squandering time on worldly pleasures or vanities. For example, an edition of Isaac Watts hymns published for American children, Honey out of the Rock, Flowing to Little Children; That they may Know to 357 refuse the Evil and chuse the Good (1715), includes a text entitled "Parting with Carnal Joys": My Soul forsakes her vain Delight And bids the World farewel, Base as the Dirt beneath my Feet, And mischievous as Hell. No longer will I ask your Love, Nor seek your Friendship more: The Happiness that I approve Lies not within your Power. There's nothing round this spacious earth That suits my large Desire; To boundless Joy and solid Mirth My nobler Thoughts aspire. . . . Had I the Pinions of a Dove I'd climb the Heav'nly Road: There sits my Saviour drest in Love, And there my smiling God.i8 Two years after the appearance of Watts's hymns for children, a slim but important volume in the tradition of Mather's "childhood death narratives" was published: this was A Legacy for Children, Being Some of the Last Impressions, and Dying Sayings, Of Hannah Hill, Junr. (1717), the longest American children's narrative to date and the first sustained treatment of a single biographical subject. Clearly in the tradition of the expanded biographical memorials which became popular with British children during the late 1600s, A Legacy is similar in both format and subject matter to such pamphlets as The Virgin Saint: Or, a Brief Narrative of the holy life, and Christian death of Mary Wilson (1673) and The Work of God in a Dying Maid (1677).19 As represented by these and other pamphlets, the "bio graphical memorial" recounted the last illnesses, dying utterances, and pious behavior of children, usually beautiful and angelic little 358 girls who were stricken in the bloom of youth; such children were eulogized as paragons worthy of the emulation of every good child. In the case of A Legacy, the anonymous compiler records that "this Dear Child [Hannah] was Seized with a violent Feaver and Flux" and died less than two weeks later; the compiler's purpose in making the record is to fulfill "the Ardent Desires of the Deceased," which were "for the General Good and Wellfare [sic], of all the Sons and Daughters of Men, under what Denomination soever": So 'tis hoped, the Effect of that same Love, which fill'd her Heart, will, more especially, redound to the Refreshing of each particular, in their Serious perusal of this little Book, which is Published, as her Last Bequest, to the World; That God over all may be Glorified in his own Works, and thy Heart with Her's [sic], may livingly [sic] Say, So be it, now and for Evermore, AMEN.20 Though a modern reader is likely to find A Legacy to be more "affected" than "affecting," many eighteenth-century children un doubtedly would have been moved to tears by the account of Hannah's death ("this Innocent Lamb closed her Eyes and Expired as one fallen into a sweet sleep, without groan or sigh"). Other readers, adults as well as children, may have been equally moved by Hannah's "Directions about her Interment," wherein she naively requested that "she might be Neat, and Decently laid out" so that she might "go Clean to God, for no Unclean thing can enter his Kingdom." And few would have been impervious to Hannah's unselfish concern for her parents: She beseech[ed] the Lord very particularly, on behalf of her Honoured Mother, that he would be pleased to continue her; and turning to her said, 0 my Dear Mother! don’ t grieve so for me, God will bless my Father; Then turning to him said. My Dear Father! Comfort, Comfort, my Dear Mother and the Lord will Comfort thee.21 359 In terms of American children's narratives, the cloying senti mentality of the passages just quoted is original with Hannah Hill's Legacy. Deriving in large measure from similar British biographies and, perhaps, from the maudlin personality of its anonymous compiler, the tone of Hannah Hill is dissimilar to that of either Janeway's or Mather's volume. In the case of the latter writers, sentimentality is used as an appeal to the reader's interest; in Hannah Hill, sentimen tality underscores in a bold and heavyhanded fashion the exemplary nature of Hannah's life. Indeed, to prevent the auspicious nature of the dead girl's history from escaping the reader, a "Postscript" de clares that "since the Decease of this dear Child, ... it is Evi dent, That She had a Sence [sic] of her Approaching Death, for some Considerable time before she was Seized, and would be often speaking of it to divers of the Family." And the hapless child who completed the pamphlet without gaining an adequate appreciation of Hannah's example might be redeemed by reading its appendix, a kind of "moral handbook" comprised of forthright testimonials of the dead child's righteousness. The most calculating of these comes from a certain Thomas Chalkely, who remembers that Hannah was always very dutiful to her Parents, Loving to her Friends and Neighbours, and kind to the Servants, both White and Black. I have seen some Children very Rude and Imperious to their Parents' Negroes, but I observed the contrary in her. . . . Many times when other Children would be at Play in the Streets, (the which our Youth are too much addicted to in this City, and too much Winked at by their Parents) she would be either at her Book or Needle, at both which she was very Dex terous, and it rather seemed a Delight to her, than a Burden. She could Write well, and would Indite [sic] Letters, that were full of Intelligence!;] her Conversation, that Way, was very desirable. . . . 360 She had an extraordinary Gift in Reading of the Holy Scriptures, and other Good Books, in which she took much De light; And if any Friend gave her a Book, she would not seem to be satisfied untill she had Read it through; and would sometimes get much of it by Heart. May the Minds, of Young People be Stirred up, by her Example, to put the same in Practice, is my Hearty Desire. This Testimony I am Constrained to give concerning her, That she Lived and Dyed Beloved, and her Loss Lamented of, or by, all that knew her.22 The sentimental yet self-assured morality of A Legacy for Chil dren was immediately popular with its Puritan audience, giving rise to numerous imitations. Nevertheless, such homespun fables did not entirely replace "martyr narratives" on children's bookshelves. In deed, one of the most widely-read publications of the 1700s was a small volume apparently intended for children (though read by adults and young people as well) entitled Martyrology, Or, A brief Account of the Lives, Sufferings and Deaths of those two holy Martyrs, viz. Mr. John Rogers, And Mr. John Bradford . . . [in] 1554 [and] 1555 (1736).23 The purpose of Martyrology is not so much to document the burnings of two Puritan ministers as it is to record the humility with which they endured their fates. Rogers, we are told, "took his Death with great Meekness and wonderful Patience, . . . washing and rubbing his Hands in the midst of the Flame" as he cried out, "Lord receive my Spirit." And Bradford, when informed of his pending execution, "pull[ed] off his Cap, and lifting up his Eyes towards Heaven said, I thank God for it: I have looked for it a long time, it is no unex pected thing, the Lord make me worthy of it." Bradford, too, "with great Patience and constancy ended his Life in the Fire, . . . being void of all Fear, hoping to obtain (as no doubt he did) the Heavenly Reward of all his Sufferings."24 361 By 1770, the martyr narrative and the biographical memorial were no longer distinct literary forms. It is true that, traditionally, both had focused on the lives/deaths of individuals who, because of their unusual virtue and goodness, were separated from common human ity. But while the biographical memorial suggested that this separa tion occasioned only the admiration, respect and emulation of average men, the martyr narrative clearly argued that the unusually praise worthy life could give rise to suspicion, jealousy, alienation, and even persecution. The possibility that one might be executed for one's spiritual convictions, for heresy, or even for witchcraft was, by 1750, a re mote one indeed. Much more real— as the Age of Reason advanced— was the threat of ridicule for personal religiosity or righteousness. This threat became a prominent theme of the biographical memorial during the late 1700s— and the positive influences of spiritual preparedness were often overshadowed by the negative ramifications of the cir cumspect life, ramifications identical to those emphasized earlier by martyr narratives: alienation, suspicion, persecution. Figuring centrally in the merger of martyr and biographical me morial narratives was an anonymous chapbook published in Boston in 1767, The Happy Child: Or, A Remarkable and Surprizing Relation Of a little Girl, Who dwelt at Barnart. Written in doggerel couplets, The Happy Child tells of an obedient daughter who "in Temper was like one divine": So sweet, so modest, and so fair, That few with her they could compare, That when her words her silence broke, You would have thought an Angel spoke. 362 She was her Mother’ s darling bright, In Learning she took great delight; Above all the rest her Mind was criven, To find the ready Way to Heav'n. Such goodness, however, did more to destroy than to secure the happi ness alluded to in the title of the young girl's history. The nar rator explains that one day as the child was returning from school, she happened upon a group of her peers at play— and "wickedly did they Blaspheme, / And took God's holy name in vain." The virtuous maid, predictably, was filled with pious indignation and prose lytizing zeal: Said she, Dear Children pray forbear, What makes you thus to curse and swear: At School you never learnt the same. Therefore I think you're much to blame: Besides, what will your Parents say, When they do hear you go astray, I'm sure their Hearts will troubled be, To know you live so wickedly.26 After admonishing her playmates to mend their ways and to seek for giveness, she declared: "Take this Advice I do implore, / Or else I'll nev'r come near you more." Perhaps inferring more self-right eousness than charity from their exemplar's words, the other children reacted angrily: "One taking this in great disgrace, / Did strike her on her pretty Face, / Saying, Dear Miss, pray hence depart, / We scorn you from our very Heart." Returning home, the child lamented to her mother that "when I them blamed for their Oaths / They gave me many bitter Blows." She added, however, "Let them do whate'er they will, / Their precious Souls I'll pray for still." Shortly thereafter the child was visited by the Devil, who instructed her to play with her friends and "learn to Lie, and Curse 3 6 3 - Swear"; she responded that his cloven foot had given him away, and commanded him, "in the name of Jesus," to depart from her. But such goodness, apparently, cannot long endure mortality. The child's next visitor was an angel, informing her of imminent death and admonishing her not to weep: "Be not beguil'd, / You only die to live my Child." True to the angel's word, the "pretty harmless Maid" soon became ill and died; at her passing, there is "heard a charming sound, / As if a Saint in Heav'n was crown'd." And the record assures us that "God has made her now his own, /Where Satan's Power can't be shown." The nar rative closes with this adjuration to the young reader: You Children who live piously Like her, you'll also like her die; God will bless while here on Earth, 97 And make you happy after Death. *1 While some children may have been encouraged by The Happy Child to lead more circumspect lives, it is certain that others would have been troubled by the girl's unpleasant encounter with her friends. Then, as now, the immediate fear of peer rejection would, for many, have held sway over abstract pleasantries of angels and heaven. The fact that Mark Twain, a full century later, would satirize tradi tional religious training, emphasizing the blurred boundary between goodness and sanctimony and arguing that the "deformed conscience" had its roots in corrupt theology, suggests the enduring tensions engendered by late eighteenth-century children's tracts and subse quent Sunday School literature. Indeed, some 1767 children may have reached the same conclusion about the heroine of The Happy Child that Huckleberry Finn would eventually reach about Miss Watson: that if she was going to be in heaven, the place was hardly worth trying for. 364 Sanctimony or no, the voices pleading with children and youth to ;:orsake unrighteousness increased in volume and insistency as the new century neared. The encroachments of the Age of Reason on church attendance and faithfulness were especially obvious among adoles cents; untiring ministers regaled heedless youth with warning after warning to "forsake the paths of licentiousness" and all things that will "be bitterness in the end"— and to return to "the ways and the God of [their] fathers."28 Such warnings hinged on a rusty and tired theme, oiled and repaired for a new generation: the brevity and un predictability of life. In An Address to the Youth of America (1772), Uzal Ogden, a New Jersey minister, admonished his young readers to "consider . . . while yet it may avail you, . . . the dangerous, the fascinating Power" of the "Pleasures of Sin." Describing a typical young man, Ogden writes: Whilst the Bloom of Youth still possesses him, his Sins are comparatively but few; not having yet acquired the Force of Habit, the Task of Repentance ... is easy; but to Day some favourite Scheme of Pleasure invites his Pursuit; some dar ling Lust entices him to the Enjoyment; he postpones his Re pentance till they are satisfied.— To Morrow he resolves to begin a new Life; to Morrow arrives, and brings with it new, and enlarged Prospects of sinful Delights; his Inclinations to indulge, increase with the Prospects . . . [A]t Length, his Soul, enervated with repeated Indulgences; . . . his Passions gathering new Strength as his Resolution fails; his Body, enfeebled by Debauchery; ... he either sinks down in gloomy Despair, or endeavours to lose his Ideas in enlarging the Circle of Dissipation . . . — But though he at Times forgets the End of his Creation, his End forgets not him. In the Midst of his Stupidity,— Lo, Death! clothed with all his gloomy Horrours, appears before him, and demands of him the Debt due to Mortality!29 In A Short Account Of the Exemplary Life and Triumphant Death of Theodosia Maxey (1794), William Glendinning records the final words and actions of a young woman who died of consumption, one of the 365 truly feared diseases of the late 1700s. Glendinning writes that ’ about two years before her departure," the subject's first symptoms became apparent: "a dry tickling cough, the wearing away of the flesh, a quick pulse, shortness of breath." But, he continues, "as her body weakened, and the disorder increased, her soul ripened apace, for the eternal reward"— so that she eventually "slept in Je sus, and her spirit went to rest." Glendinning closes his account with this admonition: But 0 reader thou also must die! This dreadful debt thou must surely pay! Art thou prepared, or art thou yet a sinner? Resolve this question before it is too late. Dreadful! horri bly dreadful will it be to die without real religion! The many hard struggles this young woman encountered will clearly evince, that death is no trifling thing! Then to prevent a miserable death, take her advice,— follow her example,— and seek God with all your heart; So shall you die the death of the righteous, and your last end shall be like her's [sic].30 John Stanford takes a slightly different approach in The Goodness of God in the Conversion of Youth: A Sermon on the Death of Charles I. S. Hazzard (1799): he imagines what the dead boy might say "were it possible for him, though high in the climes of bliss, to direct his voice" to the reader: DEAREST YOUTH! With whom I once partook of nature's clay, and mingled with the mortal throng below. Then I often wept, while tears could flow, and poured forth my ardent prayer for you; yes, for you, whose eager steps pursued vain pleasure's hopes and aim, turning your giddy eyes and hearts away from a Sav iour's charms, contemning all the glories of the heavenly world! ... I felt the smart, and, by the mandate of my God, dropt my mortal flesh, and fled away to know the powers of the world immortal. Now know I the pangs of death! . . . Trem ble then, 0 my still loved youth, whom I left behind, exposed to every snare, and unprepared for your final change! Soon must you follow me; and, sudden as the lightning flash, plunge into the abyss of death, from whence there is no re turn. . . . Stand still— think of me saved from the depths of hell— think of ghastly death, of heaven and of endless woe! 366 Then learn IMMANUEL'S power to save; Incline your ear to his celestial voice, which . . . speaks an heaven of solid bliss into a youthful soul.31 One of the most frequently reprinted works of the 1790s was an anonymous pamphlet entitled A Late Letter from A Solicitous Mother to her Only Son, Both Living in New England, wherein an aging parent in forms her young son, "If mine eyes might see . . . your conversion be fore my death: ... I don't know but I should die with excessive joy." At the conclusion of the protracted and teary document are I these "Thoughts of God and Death": There is an hour when I must die, Nor do I know how soon 'twill come; A thousand children young as I Are call'd by death to hear their doom. Let me improve the hours I have, Before the day of grace is fled; There's no repentance in the grave Nor pardon offer'd to the dead. Just as a tree cut down that fell To North or Southward, there it lies; So man departs to heav'n or hell, Fix'd in the state wherein he dies.33 While the preponderance of childhood death narratives were di rected towards religious readers, a small but increasing number pub lished after 1790 were "secular" in scope and intention— though equally sentimental with their predecessors. Jumping a few years into the nineteenth century, one finds, for example, the "Notice of the Death of Mr. Joseph S. Hixon" (1810), which reports that the eighteen- year-old Harvard student's passing was "distressingly afflictive to his widowed mother" who could "never have thought, that so much fil ial affection, so much intelligence, and so much virtue, were launched on the world, to skim a day or two round the shore of life, and to be 367 shattered by the storms that rage about the coasts." In summarizing the "lesson" of the youth's death, the anonymous writer observes: The community of citizens feel perhaps little emotion at the fate of a youth, whose name was first introduced to them by the gazette, which announced his death. But had he lived to manhood, he would have been eloquent, wise, and useful. This then is the publick loss; an eloquent, wise, and useful man. A death, which ought to produce as deep and general sensa tion, sometimes occurs, but is unfrequent and awful. Still, thank God, man is not uselessly afflicted, and if the death of Hixon has repressed the thoughtless vivacity of one com panion, has startled the settled indifference of one con firmed in manhood, or solemnized the cold reflections of one waning in years, though the price is distressing and precious, the purchase is eternal and invaluable.33 A far cry from Mather's A Token for the Children of New England, "Notice of the Death" was, in terms of biographical children's narra tives, the exception rather than the rule even in 1810. The great ma jority had an overtly religious context; most featured a subject who had successfully prepared for and faced death. In other words, chil dren's biographies remained a fairly stable form through 1800, al tered only to the extent of being gradually demythologized, with the stuff of heroic romance giving way to the commonplace, preternatural saints and martyrs yielding to ordinary children, persecutions and tortures surrendering to temptations, alienation and illness. The secularization only hinted at in the development of the ju venile biography was more obvious in the metamorphosis of other chil dren's literature, including primers and textbooks, writings on man ners and social graces, and fiction. This movement away from religious themes is most often ascribed to the advent of the Age of Reason and accompanying shifts towards humanism and self-reliance. But there 368 were at least two other causes. First was the fact that the inherent American drive for individuality was greatly intensified by events surrounding the Revolution— an intensification which had as much or more to do with the emerging theme of self-reliance as the Age of Reason itself. And second was that the growing diversity of relig- lious/ethical standards and beliefs precluded the "one-size-fits-all" Lpproach to theology previously reflected in children's literature. In the case of primers and textbooks, the "secularization" was not especially dramatic, involving a gradual replacement of the cate- Lhisms, scriptural quotations and religious instruction originally comprising them with a more liberal sampling of contemporary thought. This does not mean that because later textbooks avoided overt relig iosity they were also been purged of morality. Indeed, the charac teristics of early primers most striking to a modern reader are their rigid morality and their sexism. Both characteristics derive from common roots: the fact that not all children were encouraged or even permitted to attend the first American primary schools. While young girls attended primary schools with young boys, where they were expected to learn to read and write and to acquire a fundamental understanding of religion, their formal education did not extend beyond that point— unless they attended pri vate school in order to learn the "social graces" and the skills necessary to managing a household. Both secondary schools and col leges were closed to them. Indeed, only young men who showed procliv ities for scholarship were admitted to secondary schools; and, ini tially at least, only those who desired to become ministers, magi g g g - strates or professors had need for the university, which was, by def inition, a school of liberal religious training.34 Thus, it was the case that the early schools 1) catered to boys and 2) sought to pro vide foundations for future spiritual study— a condition reflected in primers and textbooks through 1800. The first American schoolbook was adapted by Benjamin Keach from a popular British text and was initially published in about 1690 as The New-England Primer.3^ As previously noted, children who grew up in America before 1690 were taught to read and write from the Bible — and later, from John Cotton's catechism. Milk for Babes. In this context, and within the confines of Puritan society, it was only na tural that The New-England Primer be heavily imbued with spiritual doctrine. Indeed, the earliest editions of the Primer included Milk for Babes, 3 6 But what might surprise a modern reader is that the Primer contained practical morality alongside its spiritual edicts. While many know, for example, that the book's featured alphabet begins with "In Adam's Fall / We sinned all" and "Thy Life to mend / This Book [the Bible] attend," they are likely unaware that the stan zas for only 11 of the 25 letters mention a Biblical character, a re ligious doctrine, or God. Among the remaining 14 stanzas are "The Cat doth play / And after slay," "The idle Fool / Is whipt at School," "Our King the good / No Man of Blood," and "The Royal Oak / It was the Tree / That sav'd His / Royal Majesty."37 In addition to Milk for Babes, "The Lord's Prayer," "A Dialogue between Christ, a Youth and the Devil," and an account of John Rodger's martyrdom, the Primer includes a list of one-, two- and three-syllable words, a table of 370 Roman numerals, and "An Alphabet of Lessons for Youth." The text’ s balance between spiritual and practical morality is illustrated by a short essay, "Advice to Little Children," included near its end: When thou canst read, read no Ballads and foolish Books, but read the Bible, and the Plain Man's Path way to Heaven, the Practice of Piety, Mr. Baxter's Call to the Unconverted, Mead's Almost Christian, Vincent's Advice to Young Men; and read the Histories of the Martyrs that died for Christ, and in the Book of Martyrs. Read also often Treatises of Death, Hell and Judgment, and of the Love and Passion of Christ. . . . Sleep not at the House of God, or at Prayer; for whosoever sleeps at Prayer, or at Sermon, the Devil rocks the Cradle. Be not proud of thy Cloaths, or curious in putting them on, the Devil stands by, & holds the Glass whilst such dress them. Fight not with thy Play-fellows, for when thou tightest with thy Play-fellows, the Devil is thy second. . . . Play not at Cards, especially for Money, for there is no good to be got by such foolish and sinful Games. They that go to Bed without Praying, the Devil is their Bed-fellow. Play not at Prayer, or in the House of God, or at any holy Duty. Ah my dear Children, God is not to be dallied with, and you have to do with God when you are in any holy Duty: Your Master will be angry if you play when you are at your Books, God will be more angry if you play when you are at your Prayers or Sermon.38 Later editions of the Primer featured short "tales" or "fables" in the style of early children's fiction. One edition, for example, included a description of "a good Boy" (who lives "in the world with credit and reputation, and when he dies, is lamented by all his ac quaintance"), together with one of a "bad Boy" (who becomes, "as he grows up, a confirmed blockhead, incapable of any thing but wicked ness or folly, despised by all men of sense and virtue, and generally dies a beggar"). It also reprinted a selection from the first Ameri can storybook, A New Gift for Children (1753)— the brief history of Master Tommy Fido, who "not only loved his book, because it made him 371 pise, but because it made him better too." One day, according to the narrative, Master Tommy went to church, he minded what the parson said, and when he came home, asked his pappa if God loved him; his pappa said, yes, my dear. 0! my dear pappa, said he, I am glad to hear it: what a charming thing is it to have God my friendl then nothing can hurt me: I am sure I will love him as well as ever I can. Thus he every day grew wiser and better.39 The New-England Primer in its various editions and revisions was the most frequently reprinted children's book in early America. Welch reports that the firm of Franklin & Hall in Philadelphia printed well over 3700 copies between 1749 and 1766; many more copies were printed in Boston during the same period, with one edition printed by Daniel Fowle in 1757 reaching 10,000 copies.40 Alternate primers, though available, did not become popular until late in the century when such texts as The Royal Primer, Anthony Benezet's The Pennsylvania Spell ing-Book, and Milcah Martha Moore's Miscellanies, Moral and Instruc tive appeared. The Royal Primer, a British work re-printed in Boston in 1773, must have been a welcome change for both children and instructors. It opens with this short rhyme, "A good Boy and Girl at their Books": HE who ne'er learns his A,B,C. Forever shall a Blockhead be; But he who's to his Book inclin'd, Will soon a golden Treasure find.41 Its anonymous compiler seems to have been anxious to make it a more accessible, more truly "golden Treasure" than its predecessors. For although it contains a substantial dose of religious doctrine in the form of catechisms, Watts hymns, and assorted proverbs, it also in cludes lighter anecdotes and fables and is profusely illustrated with 372 woodcuts, one of which is a comparatively explicit depiction of Adam and Eve naked in Eden. The most appealing feature of The Royal Primer is a section comprised of animal fables, each illustrated separately. Following are two examples: The PARROT. THE PARROT prates he knows not what, For all he says is got by rote. The PARROT is a chattering bird, he talks a great deal, yet knows not what he says, and is therefore not unlike some silly boys, who prate without thinking, and learn their lesson without looking at their book. The BUTTERFLY. THE BUTTERFLY in gaudy dress, The worthless coxcomb does express, Who not regarding whence he rose, Is proud of what?— of his fine clothes. This gaudy BUTTERFLY owes its being to a poor worm, and has nothing to boast of but his fine wings, which perhaps will be lost the first frosty day:— And then his case will be much like the coxcomb's who having lost his fine hat and rag-wigg, had no thing to support him but a head full of emptiness.^2 A uniquely American compilation, Anthony Benezet's The Pennsyl vania Spelling-Book (1782) is, says its author, designed to "render the instruction of youth as easy as possible, without the least view of pecuniary advantage to myself" and is comprised of two parts. The first introduces the alphabet, lists words of varying lengths, and provides what Benezet calls "short lessons" to develop reading skills. "In the course of above thirty years teaching," he writes in his preface, "I have found that short lessons, often repeated, were more useful to the learner than longer, too often tediously dwelt on." The second part is a selection of "religious and moral senti ments" which, according to Benezet, is "rather above the capacity of children" and is designed instead to "perfect the more grown scholars in good reading, as well as to excite in them a sense of the neces sity of piety, and the excellency of virtue." 4^ One might assume, from Benezet's preface, that the "short les sons" would consist of scriptural passages, homilies or brief fables. One is, at any rate, unprepared for what one finds: couplets and short rhymes, some of which appear to have come from modern readers: A big box, a red fox, and but one ox. The man and his son, let off the gun. The cup and the tea, The gun and the key; A fly on an egg, An ape on his leg.44 To be sure, many of Benezet's couplets are "moral." There are, for example, several variations on Franklin's "early to bed, early to rise" theme ("The sun is up my boy, / get out of thy bed," "Now the sun is set, / and the cow is put up, / the boy may go to bed," "The air is hot; / the man is yet in bed"), and a few are overtly relig ious: The eye of God is on us, all the day; My son, do no ill, pay to God his due. We do no act but he can see it. If we go in or out, his eye is on us. God can see us in all we do. Go not in the way of bad men. Do not lie, nor do ill to any. Bad men go in the way of sin.45 But the amusing and somewhat nonsensical rhymes featured promi nently in this section are what distinguish Benezet's primer from its counterparts. It must have appealed to children— and teachers— used 374 to more somber texts; it is little wonder that it went through sev eral printings during its first years of existence. One wonders if its rather radical newness might not have worried Benezet himself— and prompted him to add the "religious and moral sentiments" as com pensation for his unwonted levity. Milcah Martha Moore's Miscellanies, Moral and Instructive, in Prose and Verse (1791) is significant as the first American reader to be used both in and out of the classroom. Moore writes in her intro duction: It is to be regretted, that the want of proper books for the use of schools, should have been so general a subject of com plaint; and that very few attempts have been made to supply this deficiency, by introducing something on such a plan, as might, besides improving the understandings and morals, in structively amuse the vacant hours of young people, and have a tendency to render the task of teaching a more agreeable em ployment.46 Although Moore's text includes much more poetry than earlier primers, it is not otherwise revolutionary, relying heavily on the practical morality of Pope, the Bible, and traditional adages ("He is the most worthy of possessing riches, who knows best how to do without them"); it also includes religious doctrine and commentary. Its primary sig nificance, as just mentioned, is that despite its rather heavyhanded morality, it was eminently more readable than the majority of contem porary schoolbooks. Among the most "secular" of readers published during the 1790s was Bildad Barney's An Introduction to the Art of Reading (1796). Although Barney was an ordained minister, few essays in his long an thology are concerned with religious doctrine. (One notable exception is a vicious piece on the Quakers, which describes them as half-mad 375 scofflaws with proclivities for removing their clothes, proclaiming themselves to be Christ, and throwing themselves into fits.) In his introduction, Barney argues that "the art of clothing our thoughts in happy language and enforcing them with energy" is acquired only when 'early attention [is] paid to reading." His central aim, apparently, was to compile an interesting and entertaining work that would moti vate students to read. An Introduction to the Art is accordingly comprised of brief histories, Indian narratives, moral essays and fables, biographies and accounts of the Revolutionary War. An espe cially interesting inclusion is the "Account of a Wild-Man," sig nificant for its objectivity and its obvious lack of a "moral": In the year 1774, a savage, or wild-man, was discovered by the shepherds, who fed their flocks in the neighbourhood of the forest of Yuary. This man, who inhabited the rocks that lay near the forest, was very tall, covered with hair, like a bear, nimble as the Hisars, of a gay humour, and in all ap pearance, of a mild character, as he neither did, nor seemed to intend, harm to any body. He often visited the cottages, without ever attempting to carry off any thing. . . . His greatest amusement was to see the sheep running, and to scat ter them, and he testified his pleasure at this sight by loud fits of laughter, but never attempted to hurt these innocent annimals [sic]. When the shepherds (as was frequently the case) let loose their dogs after him, he fled with the swift ness of an arrow shot from a bow, and never allowed the dogs to come too near him. One morning he came to the cottage of some workmen, and one of them endeavouring to get near him, and catch him by the leg, he laughed heartily, and then made his escape. He seemed to be about thirty years of age. As the forest in question is very extensive, and has a communication with vast woods that belong to the Spanish territory, it is natural to suppose that this solitary, but cheerful creature, had been lost in his infancy, and had subsisted on herbs. Something of the same spirit is manifest in the first noteworthy English grammar to be published in America, Grammatical Institutes: Or, An Easy Introduction to Dr. Lowth's English Grammar (1800), a revision of the British text by John Ash. Written to dissuade educa- 376 jtors from a "too partial fondness for the Latin" and to encourage "an intimate acquaintance with the properties, and beauties of the Snglish tongue," the grammar includes an appendix of eleven short lessons intended to "instill SENTIMENTS of VIRTUE into YOUTH," les sons virtually devoid of religious references and concerned with such topics as "True Politeness" and "Prudence." The lesson on "The Hap piest Youth . . follows: He who in his youth improves his intellectual powers in the search of truth and useful knowledge, and refines . . . his moral and active powers, by the love of virtue, for the ser vice of his friends, his country, and mankind; who is ani mated by true glory, exalted by sacred friendship for social, and softened by virtuous love for domestic life; who lays his heart open to every other mild and generous affection, and who to all these adds a sober masculine piety, equally remote from superstition and enthusiasm; that man enjoys the most agreeable youth; and lays in the richest fund for the honour able action, and happy enjoyment of the succeeding periods of life. . . .48 As the eighteenth century wound down, ministers and edu cators decried society's apparent withdrawal from religion, believing it necessarily involved a corresponding retreat from moral respon sibility. From this milieu sprang numerous discussions of "freedom" and "agency" and "will," the consensus of which was perhaps best sum marized by John Perkins in 1765— that freedom and will could not be separated from conscience or moral growth and that education, most simply defined, was the apprehension of correct ethical principles: Our Freedom arises out of a Power put in Act to examine our Motives, whereby we approve or disapprove, retain or reject them. So we rectify the Errors of our Education and the ill Impressions made upon us by Example, Custom, Interest or Af fection, Prejudice, Passion, &c.49 During that same year, Yale president Thomas Clap declared that "Er rors of Education" generally stemmed from the lack of attention paid 377 to spiritual ethics in academic circles; Clap further argued that both deism and secular humanism were the fruits of this spiritual lapse: As Ethics or Moral Philosophy, makes a considerable Part of an acadmical Education, and is nearly connected with true Religion, it is of great Importance that it should be clearly stated, and fixed upon the right Foundation.— Authors are generally agreed in the Rules of external Conduct, for the general Good of Communities and particular Persons; but dif fer greatly in the Foundation of the Obligation to observe those Rules, and in the Criterion of moral Good and Evil. . . . [T]he separating of [a system of ethics] from the Doc trines or Principles of Religion, upon which it is founded has been the Occasion of several Mistakes; and particularly this, that many have generally treated Ethics only as the Laws of Nature and Nations, or a System of civil Laws, gen erally obtaining among Mankind, and calculated principally to promote the temporal Good of public Communities and particu lar Persons, in their enjoying the natural Pleasures and Hap piness of the present Life. . . . Ethics, in this View, have very much paved the Way to Deism: and therefore have been justly opposed by many good Men. The writings of Clap, Perkins and others might be dismissed as a conservative backlash against changes in educational materials and theory; this, however, would be a superficial reaction to a complex situation. A more satisfying approach is to see educators and mini sters of the late 1700s as struggling to maintain a footing on the shifting moral grounds of pre- and post-Revolutionary America, con vinced that all education simultaneously derived from and engendered social and ethical virtues but entirely uncertain as to the quality and longevity of the clashing jumble of values the culture then es poused. It is no secret that in the face of uncertainty, the moral foundations of the past suddenly loom impressive and enduring and se cure. At any rate, discussions regarding the extent to which schools should act as "moral preceptors" extended well into the nineteenth 378 century— and continue, in fact, to have currency today. American education, in other words, has not easily separated itself from re ligious influences, particularly those of traditional Christian mor ality. Within the confines of the late 1700s, such writers as Franklin, Rush and Webster were influential spokesmen for the inculcating of traditional moral values among schoolchildren; Rush's position was perhaps the most extreme. He insisted that the well-being of the re public was dependent upon public morality; and, therefore, that the cultivation of moral sensitivities should be the overriding concern of educators and legislators— and the primary motivation for estab lishing a system of public education: Nothing can be politically right, that is morally wrong; and no necessity can ever sanctify a law, that is contrary to equity. VIRTUE is the living principle of a republic. To pro mote this, laws for the suppression of vice and immorality will be as ineffectual, as the encrease and enlargement of gaols.— There is but one method of preventing crimes, and of rendering a republican form of government durable, and that is by disseminating the seeds of virtue and knowledge through every part of the state, by means of proper modes and places of education. ... I am so deeply impressed with the truth of this opinion, that were this evening to be the last of my life, . . . my parting advice to the guardians of [my native country's] liberties [would be], "To establish and support PUBLIC SCHOOLS in every part of the state."51 And despite the increasing secularization of educational mater ials, undisguised religious doctrine persisted in many texts; its presence was generally unquestioned through the nineteenth century. John Wood, for instance, confides that in gathering essays for his reader Mentor, Or the American Teacher's Assistant (1795), "a strict regard [was] paid to the moral tendency of each Composition" and that he included "some of the most interesting Truths of Religion, as de- 379 oicted, in most persuasive Diction, by eminent Writers" in order to 'add to the utility of the work.” He adds that "his most sanguine wishes will be accomplished" if his anthology is found to "contribute to form the minds of the Students to the Practice of those Virtues, which exalt and adorn the human Character."^ por even more striking examples, one need look no further than Mercy Otis Warren's History of the Rise, Progress, and Termination of the American Revolution (1805), a romantic account of the war as a moral cause sanctioned and governed by deity— an account that, according to J. H. Powell, I 'stimulate[d] the patriotism of a generation"; or Noah Webster's pre face to his History of the United States to which is prefixed A Brief Historical Account of Our Ancestors (1832), published fifty years after the conclusion of the war: This little volume, intended for the use of American youth, contains many facts not found in any other history of the United States. It begins with an account of the creation and of the dispersion of men, on the attempt to build Babel; and describes our ancestors, descendants of Japeth, in the wilds of Germany, as they were when the Romans conquered Gaul, be fore the Christian era. A brief account is then given of the conquest of England by our Saxon ancestors, and of their gradual improvement in the arts of life, down to the reforma tion. Then follows an account of the peopling of America, and a description of the character and manners of the aborigi nals, both in Mexico and in the more northern latitudes. The origin of the Puritans, and the causes of their migration to America, are then stated. ... In the history of these settlements, of their pro gress, of the Indian wars, of the forms of government in the several Colonies, of the revolutionary war, and of the mea sures which were pursued for obtaining the present constitu tion of the United States, the most authentic authorities have been consulted; and some facts are related from the per sonal knowledge of the writer. The brief exposition on the constitution of the United States, will unfold to young per sons the principles of republican government; and it is the sincere desire of the writer that our citizens should early understand that the general source of correct republican 380 principles is the BIBLE, particularly the New Testament or the Christian religion.53 What is generally recognized as the first book on children's manners and deportment, Eleazar Moody's The School of Good Manners, was not published— as Welch notes— until 1715. By no means original with Moody, the work was based on at least two British adaptations of a 1564 French text, L'A, B, C, or Instruction pour les petis enfans. One of the British versions from which Moody's text derives is Wil liam Fiston's The Schoole of good Manners: Or, A new Schoole of Ver- tue (1609) wherein the following rules are proposed under the heading Of Manners at the Table": If thou be to say Grace, set thy Face in a modest order, and holding thy Handes up devoutly, then fastning thine eyes mannerly on the worthiest Person at the Table, bow thy knee, and begin to say distinctly & plainely: if some other say Grace, stand thou with like modestie and devotion. To gnaw Bones, is dog-like: but to picke the meat off with thy knife, is good maners [sic]. Some thrust so much into their mouthes at once, that their cheeks swell like bagpipes. 0ther[s] open their Jawes so wide, that they smacke like Dogges: some blow at the nose. All which, are beastly fashions. To drinke or speake when thy mouth is full, is not onely slovenly, but dangerous.54 Moody's text deletes the rule for saying grace; the other rules quoted above are revised by Moody as follows: Gnaw not bones at the table, but clean them with thy knife (unless they be very small ones) and hold them not with a whole hand, but with two fingers. Eat not too fast, or with greedy behaviour. . . . Make not a noise with tongue, mouth, lips, or breath, in eating or drinking. . . . Spit not, cough not, nor blow thy nose at the table, if it may be avoided: but if there be necessity, do it aside, and without much noise. K R Drink not nor speak with any thing in thy mouth. 381 Moody's version is obviously simpler and less detailed than Fiston's; and though much of the original humor is lost, Moody's text is much better suited to young readers. With 28 American editions appearing during the century following its initial printing. The School of Good Manners was by far the most popular of the eighteenth-century books of behavior for children. It is uncertain why a form that had flourished in Britain throughout the 1600s did not appear in the American colonies until 1715, nearly a century after the landing at Plymouth Rock. For al though a stern first- or second-generation minister like Solomon Stoddard may have condemned notions of genteel behavior (along with periwigs) as an "Affectation of Swaggering' and a manifestation of "Vanity in the Mind," Puritan children received rather liberal cul tural educations, with instruction in music, French, art and dancing as standard private-school subjects for girls; history, music, danc ing and horsemanship as routine areas of training for boys. And the education of Harvard students was, as Perry Miller has noted, "lib eral in the true sense of the term— the education of gentlemen."®® Nevertheless, the bulk of Puritan and other early American docu ments addressed to children or adolescents and dealing with behavior or manners were, through 1750 or so, directed most frequently to young men. And most of these were concerned with appropriate spiri tual behavior and virtuous living, bearing titles such as Warnings from the Dead; Or Solemn Admonitions Unto All People; but Especially unto Young Persons to Beware Of such Evils as would bring them to the Death (1693), How and Why Young People should Cleanse their Way 382 (1716), Cleansing Our Way in Youth Press'd, As of the Highest Impor tance (1719), The Pure Nazarite: Advice to a Young Man (1723), and The Young People Warned; Or the Voice of God to the Young People in the Late Terrible Judgment of the Throat-Distemper (1741). Virtually all of these, however, were originally delivered as sermons and can hardly be defined as "books of manners." As a matter of fact, indigenous American writings on behavior and manners were largely a product of post-Revolutionary America: perhaps Americans could not define genteel colonial behavior until they had first determined who they themselves were. Even then, the bulk of American courtesy writings between the Revolution and 1800 were directed towards adolescents; as with primers and textbooks, these writings clearly reflected eighteenth-century sexist attitudes. And as previously implied, Moody's School of Good Manners continued until the mid-1800s as the basic guide for childhood behavior. Several imprints of the late 1700s were incidentally concerned with juvenile manners. The anonymous Dialogue Between an Uncle and his Kinsman (1764), for example, was dedicated to "the Youth in North- America— especially those "Numbers [who] have chearfully hazarded [their] Lives for our Safety"— and devoted to a condemnation of drun kenness, coarseness, blasphemy and fornication.^^ In 1782 appeared Mrs. Hester Chapone's Letters on the Improvement of the Mind. Ad dressed to a Young Lady, one of the first of many British books and pamphlets reprinted in America out of "unfeigned regard for the Fe male Sex" and designed to help a young woman avoid becoming "ridic ulous in conversation, and miserably wrong-headed in her pursuits and 383 behaviour." Mrs. Chapone's volume is interesting for the following quotation which must have raised a number of American eyebrows, espe cially in conservative and marriage-minded New England: If this happy lot [of marriage] is denied you, do not be afraid of a single life. A worthy woman is never destitute of friends. . . . She can never be slighted or disesteemed, while her good temper and benevolence render her a blessing to her companions. Nay, she must be honoured by all persons of sense and virtue, for preferring the single state to an union unwor thy of her. The calamities of an unhappy marriage are so much greater than can befal a single person, that the unmarried woman may find abundant argument to be contented with her condition, when pointed out to her by Providence.58 The novels of Enos Hitchcock, such as Memoirs of the Bloomsgrove Family (1790), are also written— according to their author— with an Lwareness of "the Dignity and Importance of the Female Character." Having only the barest of plots, Memoirs recounts "in a Series of Letters" how Mr. and Mrs. Bloomsgrove expertly raised their sons and daughters, teaching them "the present State of . . . Manners, in the jUnited States." At the beginning of the second volume, Hitchcock ad dresses himself to the reader "on the subject of female education": When ... I am pleading for the submission of females, I mean to recommend to mothers to cherish, by education, those habits of restraint, and that native modesty by which only they can preserve propriety of character. Whatever inconvenience they may suffer from this species of restraint, is amply compen sated by their power of command over the will and affections of men; which reciprocates the influence, and the submission; and, like the laws of attraction and repulsion, preserves the equilibrium of the world.59 Similar values are espoused by the anonymous British author of Dra matic Pieces, Calculated to Exemplify the Mode of Conduct which will Render Young Ladies both Amiable and Happy (1788), reprinted in Con necticut in 1791. The author desires that her dramas will help es tablish "such habits of patience, meekness and complacency, as are 384 essentially necessary to render young ladies happy in themselves, and to qualify them for the discharge of the various duties, which par ticularly belong to the FEMALE CHARACTER."60 But these were not, as noted earlier, true "behavior imprints" — they were not exclusively concerned with juvenile manners and were often reprints of popular British works. It is somewhat surprising that Noah Webster's An Address to Yung [sic] Ladies (1788) and An Address to Yung Gentlemen (1790) were among the first behavior writ ings by an American, even though they did not appear until very late in the century. Both essays focus on deportment, courtship, polite conversation and exercise; they advocate an avoidance of "every spe cies of affectation" while appearing "az fashionable az convenience wil warrant"; they treat sexual morality from a social rather than a religious standpoint. And both evince contemporary chauvinism, with Webster's "advice of importance" reserved primarily for young men.61 Webster informs his audience of "yung ladies" that he is ad dressing them with "frankness and candor," and then bluntly declares that "a woman without delicacy, iz a woman without reputation"— that an incautious woman "reddy to fall into the arms of any man that ap proaches her" necessarily "remooves the barriers of her reputation, she disarms herself, and thousands consider themselves at liberty to commence an attack." The sexism of the 1790s is further perpetuated by Webster's comments on feminine ambition: One sex if formed for the more hardy exercizes of the coun cil, the field and the laborious employments of procuring subsistence. The other, for the superintendancee of domestic concerns, and for diffusing bliss thro social life. When a woman quits her own department, she offends her husband, not merely becauze she obtrudes herself upon hiz biziness, but 385 becauze she departs from that sphere which iz assigned her in order of society; becauze she neglects her duty, and leeves her own department vacant. The same remark wil apply to the man who visits the kitchen and gets the name of a betty. The same principle which excludes a man from an attention to do mestic bizziness, excludes a woman from law, mathematics, and astronomy. . . . Ladies however are not generally charged with a too strong attachment to books. It iz necessary that they should be wel acquainted with every thing that respects life and manners; with a knowlege of the human hart and the graceful accomplishments. The greatest misfortune iz, that your erly studies are not always wel directed; and you are permitted to devour a thousand volumes of fictitious nonsense, when a smaller number of books, at less trubble and expense, would furnish you with more valuable trezures of knowledge. To be lovely then you must be content to be wimen; to be mild, social and sentimental . . . That it may be neecessary for political purposes, to consider man az the superior in authority, iz to me probable. I question whether a different maxim would not destroy your own happiness. In his advice to "yung men," Webster advocates regular exercise, especially for those "who leed a sedentary life"; he recommends such activities as running, football, quoit, and dancing, "taking care not to injure [oneself] by too violent exertion." He also encourages his readers to "attach [them]selves to biziness in the early part of life," to "mingle with [their] superiors in age and wizdom, whenever [they] can do it with propriety," but to "be careful not to push [themselves] into company." Shot through with eighteenth-century sexism, Webster's discussion of marriage comprises his most provoca tive counsel to young males: In forming a matrimonial connection, bridle fancy, and reduce it to the control of reezon. You wil perhaps be in luv at sixteen; but remember, you cannot rely on the continuance of the passion. At this erly period of life, a man's passions are too violent to last; he iz in raptures and ecstacy; but raptures and ecstacy never continu thro life. While a man talks of raptures and paradise on erth, he iz not fit to be married; for hiz passion, or rather hiz frenzy, warps hiz judgment; he iz az unqualified to form a just estimate of a 386 woman's karacter, az a blind man to judge of colors. The probability iz, in all such cases, that a man wil make a bad choice; at leest the chances are ten to one against him. . . . I would . . . advize you to be cautious of connecting yourselves with the following karacters: First, wimen who have been accustomed to indulge familiarities, even in com pany, such az kissing, playing with their hands, and the like. Secondly, thoze who wil never be seen in the morning; for if a lady runs out of a room, and avoids you in a morning dress, the suspicion iz that she iz a slut, and that she iz conscious of her unfitness to be seen. . . . Thirdly, never connect yourselves with a very loquacious or fretful woman; such a partner wil teeze you thro life. Fourthly, avoid one who haz a slanderous tung; she wil keep your family and the naborhood in perpetual discord. Fifthly, form no connection with a woman, who haz no acquaintance with a kitchen. . . . Sixthly, marry, if possible, a lady of virtu and religion; for religion iz her best gard from temptation and the allurements of vice. At any rate, marry. A married man, especially a father, iz a better citizen than a bache lor. Hiz benevolent affections are called in to exercize in hiz family; and he iz thus prepared to luv and to bless so ciety in general.63 A common theme of Webster's addresses to youth is that indolence and carelessness bring unhappiness or ruin, a theme echoed fre quently in his 1792 book of manners and wit, The Prompter; Or A Com mentary on Common Sayings and Subjects, which are Full of Common Sense. Regarding the old proverb, "He is sowing his wild oats," for example, Webster observes: And a plentiful crop, they will produce. It is expected of a young man that he will sow all his wild oats, when young; but the mischief is, that a man who begins life with sowing wild oats, seldom sows a better kind, in middle life and old age. Many a man has been ruined by an indulgent parent. He has a sprightly turn, as it is called— he likes a good frolic — he plays a good game— he is not malicious in his vices; in short, his father says, he is only sowing his wild oats— he therefore does not restrain him or put him to business— the young man makes free with gaming and the bottle— at first he is moderate in his pleasures— . . . [but] after sowing wild oats a year or two, he loves it better than ever.— . . . The young buck sows his wild oats till he is a master of the business— he does it with a grace— a habit is formed— ah, then let him quit it, if he can. . . . 387 "But reformed rakes make the best husbands." Upon the honor of the Prompter, it may be so; but such an animal as a reformed rake, is as rare as camels or lions in America. The sight of one would command as good a price as that of the Ourang Outang. The creature is like patriotism, much talked about and often praised; but never seen.64 Webster was by no means alone in his championing of masculine ambition and feminine seriousness, nor was he saying anything new. These were values that grew up with New England, though they had been "rescued" and revitalized by Franklin. In part, too, they were natu ral by-products of the Age of Reason. At any rate, "industry" became the watchword of the new nation and a central tenet of many courtesy books, British as well as American. For instance, John Dixon writes in what is primarily a handbook of religious behavior, The Poor Orphans Legacy (1792), "In whatever condition or station you [occupy] in the world, be diligent in the pursuit of the business of your state and calling; idleness, lazi ness, and carelessness are not only great sins in themselves, but also the cause of innumberable more."6® John Aiken, in Letters from a Father to his Son (1796), addresses the topic "On Strength of Char acter" in his first letter; he tells his son, "There is nothing in your destination which obliges you to pursue any other course of study, than that best fitted to enlarge your mind, and store it with the most essentially valuable products of human knowledge."66 And in a clear echo of Webster, John Bennet declares that his Letters to a Young Lady (1792) is intended to serve the fairest and most amiable part of the creation; to rouse young ladies from a vacant or insipid life, into one of usefulness and laudable exertion— to recall them from vision ary novels and romances, into solid reading and reflection— and from the criminal absurdities of fashion, to the sim 388 plicity of nature, and the dignity of virtue.— [The authorJ has attempted a method of uniting, in their character, the graces with the virtues; an amiable heart, with elegant man ners, and an enlightened understanding.6* Another prominent social theme of late eighteenth-century Amer ica was the foolishness and potential danger of affectation, a theme springing from the American desire for complete separation from Brit ish culture— especially its complex code of manners and accompanying deceptions, hypocrisy and cant— and for the founding of an open and frank democratic society, one uniquely American. This was the central interest of the first American comedy, Royall Tyler's The Contrast (1787); it was frequently resounded in adolescent behavior books of the period. Webster's cautions on this subject have been noted; he even warned youth against "affectation in the use of language."68 Charles Prentiss strongly seconded Webster's opinions on style. "Sublimity consists in grand and elevated ideas," Webster had writ ten, "and elegance iz most generally found in a plain, neet, chaste phraseology." In A Collection of Fugitive Essays (1797), Prentiss amplified Webster's ideas in this way: So much attention is paid and so much care taken to form a stile similar to some eminent writer, that the cultivation of language, rather than of ideas, becomes the study of those who are anxious to distinguish themselves in the literary world. Stile is not a matter of such importance as supposed by many. No man was less attentive to stile than Swift; yet the prose works of but few are more admired. . . . [B]y a con tinual repetition of [raised and embellished ideas] the art is seen and displeases. And unless the sentiments are equal to the stile, it resembles a splendid palace without furni ture, or a table of elegant dishes or rich plate but nothing to eat. . . . There is such a charm in metre and poetical lan guage, that the weakest of matter is often so graced in rhyme, as to command commendation from the uncritical multi tude. Hence poetry becomes more often the refuge of dullness, than the tongue of genius. 9 389 Prentiss also condemns affectation in courtship, which, he declares, 'is more disgusting to a man of sense than death." In support of his aelief that "a coquette is a damnable thing and ought to be hated more than a thief," Prentiss offers the history of a woman who kept 'seven lovers in suspense, six years, . . . and never expected to hus band either of them." The lady "is now fifty years old," Prentiss concludes, "has not been sparked these twenty years," and "lives a conspicuous scarecrow to vanity and affectation." More striking than either of these essays, however, is Pren tiss's bitter invective against moral hypocrisy, a short fable about one Sylvia, a "lady of great delicacy": She once saw a louse, and immediately fainted away. The sight of a beggar turns her stomach. If a man whose rank is not equal to her own attempts to kiss her, she screams and leaves the room. The mentioning of a woman's shift is considered by her as an outrage on decency. Her petticoat once got unpined [sic] at an assembly, and fell on the floor: had the heavens been crushing together, the consternation would not have been greater than that which was occasioned by this fatal catastrophe, and the howlings of agony, that rent the bosom of affected delicacy. In antient times a lady could say breeches, of late they are called small clothes: but SYLVIA always calls them mod esty garments. But SYLVIA'S real modesty was finally determined to the satisfaction of all. Her lap dog was paying his addresses to a lady of the same species; and, (mirabile dictu,) SYLVIA was seen peaking [sic] thro a broken pane of glass to observe their conduct. Although "the tongue should always be under subjection," Prentiss concludes, "Chastity rests in the soul, not on the tongue."71 The Youth's Monitor (anonymous, 1799) is critical of affected speech, referring to it as "vulgarism in language" and declaring that "trite sayings are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man." Be sides overusing "good old sayings" and "favorite words," the vulgar 390 man is characterized by his "pronunciation of proper words," which "carries the mark of the beast along with it. He calls the earth, yearth; he is oblaiged, not obliged to you. He goes to wards, and not towards such a place." And sometimes, says the writer, the vulgar man "affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he always mangles like a learned woman."72 Absentmindedness is described as another mark of affectation. "An Absent Man," the writer says, "is generally either a very weak, or a very affected man” and is "very disagreeable ... in company": He is defective in all the common offices of civility; he does not enter into the general conversation, but breaks into it from time to time, with some starts of his own, as if he waked from a dream. He seems wrapt up in thought, and pos sibly does not think at all: he does not know his most inti mate acquaintance by sight, or answers them as if they were at cross purposes. . . . This is a sure indication, either of a mind so weak that it cannot bear above one object at a time; or so affected, that it would be supposed to be engrossed by some very great and important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, and perhaps five or six more since the Creation, may have had a right to absence, from the intense thought their investigations required; but such liberties cannot^be claimed by, nor will be tolerated in, any other persons.73 Because of its variety and humor— intentional or otherwise— The Youth's Monitor is one of the most eminently readable of all early American children's imprints. The text is a compilation of uniden tified passages rather than the production of a single writer, but the wry, blunt and relatively liberal personality of its editor is evident throughout. It is, in short, a compilation appropriate to the youth of a new democracy. One passage, for example, is entitled "Cau tions against Sundry Odd Habits"; it is apparently derived from Moody's School of Good Manners, but has been rewritten for slightly rustic youth growing up in America during the Age of Reason: 391 Humming a tune within ourselves, drumming with our fin ger, making a noise with our feet, and such awkward habits, being all broaches of good manners are therefore indications of our contempt for the persons present .... Eating very quick, or very slow, are characteristics of vulgarity: the former infers poverty; the latter, if abroad, that you are disgusted with your entertainment; and if at home, that you are rude enough to give your friends what you cannot eat yourself. Eating soup with your nose in the plate is also vulgar. So likewise is smelling to the meat while on the fork, before you put it in your mouth. If you dislike what is sent upon your plate, leave it; but never by smelling to or exam[in]ing it, appear to tax your friend with placing unwhol[e]some provisions before you. Spitting on the floor or carpet is a filthy practice, and which, were it to become general, would render it as nec essary to change the carpets as the table cloths; not to add, it will induce our acquaintance to suppose, that we have not been used to genteel furniture; for which reason alone, if for no other, a man of liberal education should avoid it. . . . Never walk fast in the streets, which is a mark of vulgarity, ill-befitting the character of a gentleman or a man of fashion, tho it may be tolerable in a tradesman. . . . Keep yourself free likewise from all odd tricks or habits; such as scratching yourself, putting your fingers to your mouth, nose, and ears, thrusting out your tongue, snap ping your fingers, biting your nails, rubbing your hands, sighing aloud, an affected shivering of your body, gaping, and many others which I have noticed before; all which are imitations of the manners of the mob, and degrading to a gentleman. 4 "Next to good breeding," says the writer to his young readers, "is a genteel manner and carriage." In a rather delightful passage, he describes an awkward individual, trusting that from his "picture of the ill bred man," his audience will "easily discover that of the well bred" and will be persuaded to give "a little attention to the manners of those who have seen the world," thereby making "a proper behavior habitual and familiar": When an awkward fellow first comes into a room, he attempts to bow, and his sword, if he wears one, goes between his legs, and nearly throws him down. Confused and ashamed, he stumbles to the upper end of the room, and seats himself in the very chair he should not. He there begins playing with his hat, which he presently drops; and recovering his hat, he 392 lets fall his cane; and in picking up his cane, down goes his hat again; thus it is a considerable time before he is ad justed. When his tea or coffee is handed to him, he . . . scalds his mouth, drops either the cup or the saucer, and spills the tea or coffee in his lap. At dinner he is more un commonly awkward; ... he seats himself upon the edge of his chair, at so great a distance from the table, he freequently drops his meat between his plate and his mouth; he holds his knife, fork and spoon differently from other people; eats with his knife, to the manifest danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with his fork, rakes his mouth with his finger, and puts his spoon which has been in his throat a dozen times, into the dish again. ... He generally daubs himself all over; his elbows are in the next person's plate and he is up to the knuckles in soup and grease. . . . Further, he has, perhaps, a number of disagreeable tricks, he snuffs up his nose, picks it with his fingers, blows it and looks in his handkerchief, crams his hands first into his bosom, and next into his breeches. In short, he neither dresses nor acts like any other person, but is particularly awkward in every thing he does. "All this," says the writer, "I own has nothing in it criminal; but it is such an offence to good manners and good breeding, that it is universally despised; it makes a man ridiculous in every company, and of course, ought carefully to be avoided by every one who would wish to please."75 The Youth's Monitor joins Franklin, Dixon and Bennet is praising industry and "resolution of mind," insisting that a young man should be careful "to let no complaisance, no gentleness of temper, no weak desire of pleasing on your part— no wheedling, coaxing or flattery on other people's make you recede one jot from any point that reason and prudence have bid you pursue." Instead, the youth is encouraged to "return to the charge, persist, persevere," and he "will find most things attainable that are possible."76 Finally, The Youth's Monitor returns to themes of early child hood biographies— the shortness of life, the dangers of vanity, the 393 value of time. "Could we draw back the covering of the tomb," the writer observes, emphasizing the transcience of mortality, "oh! how would it surprize and grieve us, to behold the prodigious transforma tion that has taken place on every individual." Instead of "the sweet and winning aspect, that wore perpetually an attractive smile," there "grins horribly a naked ghastly skull"; the "eye that outshone the diamond's lustre"— "alas! where is it?"77 Moral concerns raised by these apparently rhetorical queries are rather patly answered by the compiler a few pages later in a verse entitled "Live to Die." In its harking back to the thematic roots of American children's literature, it is, perhaps, a fitting conclusion to this brief perusal of be havior imprints: YOU whose fond wishes do to heaven aspire, Who make those blest abodes your sole desire, If you are wise, and hope that bliss to gain, Use well your time, live not an hour in vain. Let not the morrow your vain thoughts employ, But think this day the last you shall enjoy.7* 3 Children's fiction remained a highly moral genre through 1800. The concept of "juvenile escapist literature," in other words, would have made little practical or emotional sense to eighteenth-century educators, ministers, parents or publishers— although it almost cer tainly would have been accepted by children. Support for this latter assertion is found in the immediate and widespread popularity of the first American storybook; following its publication in 1753— when, to use Dryden's terms, "instruction" was finally combined with "de light"; when Americans at long last accepted Locke's belief that 394 reading need not be drudgery— there was a virtual explosion of juve nile narratives. The first American publication that might possibly be defined as a storybook was a reprint of Benjamin Harris's simplified version of jthe Bible, published in Boston as The Holy Bible In Verse (1717).79 Although the book's "poetry" can only be described as doggerel and it was illustrated with a scant ten woodcuts, it must have been welcomed by young children who otherwise would have had to struggle through the King James translation. It was nearly thirty years before a second "religious storybook" was published, The History of the Holy Jesus (1746)— though this was apparently indigenous to America. As tfelch has observed, the book is illustrated with a number of crude yet delightfully anachronistic woodcuts, including a portrayal of the magi in Puritan dress and "looking through telescopes at a star," and Christ standing "in a pulpit dressed in minister's robes," his audi ence "dressed in their Sunday-best eighteenth century clothes."80 The introduction explains that although Adam and Eve were given a "pleas ant paradise" and permitted to eat "all the Fruits thereof" except "one, and only one, and sure / That could not be tho't much," Adam "ate immediately" when tempted, "and thus . . . broke his Lord's Com mands": And Death did thence ensue, And thus Death comes, my Children dear, On every one of you. And down to Hell you all had gone. Had not sweet Jesus flown. To save the poor rebellious Wretch, From his deserved Ruin. . . . And how he came, and what he's done The following Lines rehearse; 395 0 therefore diligently read, And ponder every Verse.®^ Though most of the poetry is insipid, occasional lines are quaintly charming. Accompanying the woodcut of Christ's crucifixion, for ex ample, is the following stanza: "Behold his dear and lovely Head / Fall on his bleeding Breast; / And all to bring his little Lambs / To an eternal Rest.”82 The text ends with a separate poem, "The Child's Body of Divin ity," a rhyming alphabet which begins: "Adam by's Fall bro't Death on all. / By his foul Sin we've ruin'd been. / Christ Jesus come to ran som some. / Dare any say this an't the Way."83 This poem echoes the main text of The History of the Holy Jesus in addressing sin, redemp tion and salvation, the topics traditionally associated with Christ's life. The volume’ s moral applications, then, are those of the child hood death narrative and are focused on the concurrent themes of death and spiritual preparation. In the meantime, the first and one of the most popular American storybooks, The Prodigal Daughter, had been published in Boston. The date of the first edition is unknown, but was probably about 1740; it went through at least twenty-eight subsequent editions before 1820.84 Addressed to "every wicked, graceless child," the loose and inept verse narrative is intended to warn such children of the consequences of not "lovfing] their parents and shun[ning] bad company." The plot is rather bizarre, but is simple enough to be explained by the com plete title of the work: The Prodigal Daughter. Or, a strange and wonderful Relation, shewing how a Gentleman of a vast Estate in Bristol, had a proud and disobedient Daughter, who because her parents would 396 not support her in all her Extravagance, bargained with the Devil to poison them. How an Angel informed her Parents of her Design. How she lay in a Trance four Days; and when she was put in the Grave, she came to life again, and related the wonderful Things she saw in the other World, Likewise the Substance of a Sermon preach'd on the Occasion by the Rev. Mr. Williams . . . 85 The bulk of the poem is given to a tedious, seemingly endless account of the entranced girl's vision, its climax represented in these forgettable lines: I saw the burning lake of misery I saw the man there that first tempted me My loving parents for to slay, And he both fierce and grim did look at me. He told me he at last was sure of me, I said my saviour's blood had set me free Then in a hideous manner he did roar, When GOD my senses did to me restore.86 There is, however, a certain discord between the book's plot and its purpose. Despite the untoward maid's having what others perceived to □e an extraordinary experience, becoming the center of attention at ler own funeral, enjoying a "vision” which magically dispelled her greed and other evils, and earning forgiveness and the right to a I long and happy life, the young reader— especially one of the mis- Lhievous or disobedient sort— was requested to accept the narrative jas a warning. The anonymous writer's restricted and ultra-religious view of life, together with his great preference for didacticsm over entertainment, were representative of much of the juvenile fiction printed before 1800, most notably that of Enos Hitchcock. Sometimes designated the first American storybook consisting of multiple narratives, The Child's New Plaything was published in Bos ton in 1750, although imported British imprints of the text were sold there as early as 1744. Its title page designates it as "A Spelling- 397-- Book Intending To make the Learning to Read a Diversion instead of a Task"; therefore, it is often categorized as a reader instead of a storybook. And the fact that it was a reprint of a British work les sens its significance in American literary history. Nevertheless, it is comprised, in part, of the first American printing of selected Mother Goose rhymes, including the immensely popular "A, Apple Pie" and "A was an Archer."®^ The first true American storybook comprised of multiple tales — not a reprint from Britain, and not intended for use in schools — was A New Gift for Children. Delightful and Entertaining Stories For little Masters and Misses (1753). In her preface, the anonymous writer declares that she has "endeavour'd to raise no affection that will not equally delight and improve," believing that education ought to begin with the most early infancy; that is the time to make the strongest impressions, and to fix those ideas which ought to become lasting. We should adapt our in structions to their [children's] understandings, and by mim icking their childish prattle, convey in their own language, those amiable ideas of the several virtues, which are most likely to charm and attract their minds.®® Predictably, then, A New Gift is comprised of stories with ob vious moral underpinnings, stories with such titles as "The Good Boy," "A good Girl," and "The undutiful Child." Much less ambiguous in its morality than The Prodigal Daughter, the work is significant as the first American storybook to use clearly discernible standards of "bad" as well as "good" behavior. One story, for instance, is entitled "The Trifler," telling of a "silly boy" who "spent all his time at play" and "fancied he arose above the rest" when, in fact, "he fell beneath them, and did not get 398 one step nearer being a man." And the rather disturbing tale of "The lost Child" tells of a "genteely dress'd" little boy, sitting by him self, who was approached by a woman that "shew'd him a cake, which she promised to give him, if he would go with her to see what pretty things she had got at home for him." The child made the mistake of following her; they ended up in a field where the woman "stripp'd him naked" and left with the boy's finery. The boy was eventually found pnd returned to his parents, who received him "with open arms" and "tears of joy." The rather unusual moral that ends the tale mentions nothing about the dangers of talking with strangers— the obvious les son to be learned from it. Instead, the young reader of this prodigal child parable is informed: "0 how much should children love their pappas and mammas, who love them so dearly; who give them cloaths to keep them from the cold . . . and pay their masters and mistresses for the learning that makes them wise and good!"89 While all ten stories which comprise A New Gift are very short, two or three— such as "The proud Playfellow," transcribed below in its entirety— are so brief as to be easily mistaken for plot sum maries, the moral made all the more obvious by the brevity of the narrative: Miss Kitty Pert was proud and stubborn, and was some times so very naughty as not to do what her pappa and mamma bid her, though they loved her dearly, and were a great deal older, and so, to be sure, knew what she should do better than herself. She was very often ill-natured and disobliging, and was so silly as to think that her fine cloaths made her better than the little good girls her playfellows. Her little foolish heart swell'd when she tho't that she had prettier ribbands, and finer silk coats and shoes than a great many other misses though they could read their books, and work too a great deal better than she. Miss Polly Smith used to play with her almost every day, but as she had not such fine sil 399 ver and gold knots as she had, she used to scold at her, and beat her, because she would not always be her maid. But alas! when miss Kitty was grown a great girl, her pappa and mamma died, and as she had been so naughty that no body loved her, she had no friends to take care of her, so that, at last, she was glad to be miss Polly*s maid. And was not that a sad thing that she should be forced to be that miss’ s maid in earnest, that she had so often beat for not being hers at play?90 The morality of the first of the Newbery books to be reprinted in America, The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread (1768), was somewhat more materialistic than that of A New Gift. Indeed, Giles Gingerbread may have been the original of an important American genre, the "rags-to-riches" success story. The narrative begins with these lines: One day as Gaffer Gingerbread was coming from Work, he saw little Giles, who was as ragged as a Colt, getting up behind Sir Toby Thomson's Coach. Upon which he called to him: Here, Giles, come hither to me! I see, says the Father, you want to get up the Coach, but you are climbing at the wrong place, Giles, you should en deavour to get in at the Door. Ay Father, says the boy, but that Place is not for poor Folks. Not for poor Folks, replied the Father, yes, but it is. A poor Man, or a poor Boy may get a Coach, if he will endeavour to deserve it. Merit and In dustry may intitle a Man to any Thing.9* The father then tells his son that Sir Toby was once poor, but that because of his industry he was hired out to a wealthy man. While Toby was under his service, another servant in the house robbed some money and goods, a fact discovered by Toby and related to his master in an anonymous note, on which Toby made a secret mark. To remove suspicion from himself, the guilty servant accused Toby "as he was a Boy, and thought incapable of defending himself." Toby thereupon revealed that he had sent the letter, identifying the mark he had made upon it; and informed his master that he had observed the sale of the stolen goods 400 to the pawnbrokers. A search was made, which verified Toby's story. Mr. Gingerbread summarized the consequences of the event in these words: After this Mr. Goodwill [the master] placed great Confidence in Toby, and his Affairs so prospered, .that he became very rich. He then took in Toby as a Partner with him, and at his Death left him the whole Trade, and a large Sum of Money, which is still increasing; and from being a little ragged boy and living in that Hut, he now rides in this fine Coach. Think of this, my Dear Giles, and learn your Book, and say your Prayers, and go to Church, and be honest and good and industrious, that you may get a Coach also.92 In addition to Giles's history, the book contains additional reading "lessons"; most of them are variants of Aesop's Fables with animals as subjects. "The BULL Lesson," for example, is an analogue of "the boy who cried wolf," with the consequence being that a misbe having boy is tossed about by a bull. Following is "The DOG Lesson": When you play with a Dog, take Care of his teeth. A little girl had a little Dog, which she was very fond of, but the Cur was surly, and often snaped [sic] at her Fin gers. Yet Jockey was such a favourite, that she would always have him at her Heels, and whenever she went out, called Jockey, Jockey, Jockey, to bear her Company. At last Jockey, who was never very tame ran mad; and bit poor Sally in such a Manner that she died. How dreadful is this! Dogs are very faithful useful Ani mals, and should be regarded; but every Dog should have his place and not lie in the Lap, but under the Table. Had the Dog been kept in his Place, little Sally had been alive and well.93 The volume concludes with the following moral couplet: "Giles Ginger bread, he lov'd Cream, Custard, and Curds, / And good Books so well that he eat [sic] up his Words."9^ In the tradition of the materialism of Giles Gingerbread, if not its plea for industry and economy, is a broadside by George Bever- stock, The Silver-Key: Or A Fancy of Truth, and a Warning to Youth 401 (1774). Only once In his poem, in a brief stanza at its head, does Beverstock hint at the source of money— or suggest a moral basis for his production: He that would gain the Silver-Key By th' Forelock must take hold on me; For he that does his Time mis-spend, Will want both Money and a Friend. TIME.95 The remainder of the author's two-part doggerel "essay" is an amoral lament centering around the desirability of money and the miseries occasioned by its shortage. "The Silver Key doth bear the Sway," Bev erstock writes, "where Men are good or bad; / If you have lost the Silver Key, / but little can be had."95 Because of the author's one- track approach, and because he signs his production "Poor George Bev erstock," one wonders if his broadside might not represent a desper ate effort to procure some of what he champions. Enos Hitchcock's The Farmer’ s Friend, Or the History of Mr. Charles Worthy (1793) was perhaps the first American rags-to-riches novel and an undeniable antecedent of Horatio Alger's fiction. It relates— as its title page makes clear— how Worthy, "from being a poor Orphan, rose, through various Scenes of Distress and Misfor tune, to Wealth and Eminence, by Industry, Economy and Good Conduct." Certainly no suspense tale, the protagonist's rise occupies less than one-fourth of the narrative: within sixty pages, he has successfully weathered the death of his father, endured "the cruelty of an oppres sive neighbor," managed a "fortunate escape" from the "Old Churl" to whom he is apprenticed, saved the life of a wealthy young officer, ingratiated himself with the officer's father, married the officer's 402 sister, begun a family, and become a partner in the family's business affairs. Thereafter, Worthy plays the role of grave family philosopher. Many of his allegories are derived from nature, for he "was not inat tentive to the moral uses to which many appearances in the natural world might be applied"; whatever charm originally typified such spiels now seems lost in pretentious superficiality: The trees which drop their leaves and fruit in autumn, and bud again in the spring, he considered as a lively emblem of the death and reviviscence, or rising again of the human race. The difficulty that attended this doctrine he thought he saw unfolded in the grain springing up after the apparent death of the seed. The myriads of insects that arise from the earth, and play in the milder beams of the setting sun, he thought afforded lessons of industry to short lived man, and of the importance of a diligent improvement of the short space allotted him on earth. The astonishing instinct of ani mals, which in many of them bears a strong affinity to the boasted reason of man, gave him a high idea of their rights, and a thorough conviction of the moral obligation man is under to treat all animals with tenderness.97 Worthy's interpretive view of nature is indicative of his larger philosophy# which is centered in two principles: the brevity of life and the humane treatment of animals. The two are often combined in his sermonizing, as in his account of a man who "practised cruelty to animals to a high degree" and, as punishment, eventually "fell into a ditch, and expired in a most miserable condition"; or as in the his tory he gives of one "Jimmy the Rover," who lost all he had to credi tors and was forced to take up residence in a cave, and who then suf fered the deaths of his wife and all his children. Finally, Jimmy's dog and only companion was "killed by an ill natured man who did not care whom he injured, nor how much he tortured animals." This, ap parently, "was the last stroke," and Jimmy "expired without a groan." 403 After concluding his somber tale, Mr. Worthy "looked round and saw all his audience in tears"; and so he pleasantly said to them, that though they might weep at the troubles and distresses of poor Jimmy; yet they had reason to rejoice in the happy exchange he made, by dying in so calm a manner. This composed them in a good measure. 8 In terms of their simplistic, homespun philosophizing, unabashed sentimentality, and loose plot structures, Hitchcock's works were un questionably influenced by the spate of British storybooks and ado lescent novels reprinted in America between the Revolution and the turn of the century, especially such works as Oliver Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield (Philadelphia, 1772) and his The History of Little Goody Two-Shoes (New York, 1775)." The title page of the latter states that it is "set forth at large for the Benefit" of readers Who from a State of Rags and Care, And having Shoes but half a Pair, Their Fortune and their Fame would fix, And gallop in a Coach and Six.100 The first American "children's editions" of several inherently moral British classics were also published during this period; they were, predictably, abridged and sanitized for young audiences. These included Robinson Crusoe (New York, 1774); The Adventures of Captain Gulliver (Philadelphia, 1787); Pamela (Boston, 1794); and Clarissa (Boston, 1795).I®-*- Popular adolescent literature from Europe included Hannah More's Sacred Dramas, Chiefly Intended for Young Persons (Philadelphia, 1787) and Mrs. Pinchard's The Blind Child, or Anec dotes of the Wyndham Family (Philadelphia, 1793); stories by Arnaud Berquin were collected in The Blossoms of Moi-ality (Philadelphia, 1795).102 404 So that churchgoers who had sworn not to read fiction would have access to her plays, Hannah More underscored her integrity in follow ing scriptural texts, declaring that the only time she "ventured to introduce any persons of [her] own creation" was when she wrote Dan iel, and then only because "the Bible furnishes no more than two per sons, Daniel and Darius; and these were not sufficient to carry on the business of the Piece." Still less, she says, "did I imagine myself at liberty to invent circumstances. I reflected, with awe, that the place whereon I stood was holy ground."103 Mrs. Pinchard condemned the excessive sentimentality of juvenile fiction; her aim in writing The Blind Child was to curb the "excessive softness of heart, which too frequently involves its possessor in a train of evils, and which is by no means true sensibility, that exquisite gift of heaven."104 And the British compiler of The Blossoms of Morality, Richard Johnson, suggests that the success of adolescent English fiction is largely dependent on "foreign celebrated writers" who have "condes cended to humble themselves to the plain language of youth, in order to teach them wisdom, virtue, and morality." A previous volume (The Looking-Glass for the Mind [Providence, 1794]), he confesses, was comprised entirely of works by such persons; but because "original matter" seemed apropos, Blossoms of Morality relies primarily on British sources. Therefore, he says, we have carried our ideas in this volume one step higher than in the last; and, though we have given many tales that may contribute to amuse the youthful mind, yet we have occasion ally introduced subjects, which we hope will not fail to exercise their judgment, improve their morals, and give them some knowledge of the world. For instance: in the History of Ernestus and Fragilis, which is the first, and one of the original pieces inserted 405 in this volume, the youthful reader is led to reflect on the instability of all human affairs; he is taught to be neither insolent in prosperity, nor mean in adversity; but is shewn how necessary it is to preserve an equality of temper through all the varying stages of fortune. He is also shewn, how dan gerous are the indulgences of parents, who suffer children to give themselves up to indolence and luxury, which generally, as in this history, terminate in a manner fatal to all the parties concerned. May these Blossoms of Morality, in due time, ripen to maturity; and produce fruit that may be pleasing to the youthful taste, tend to correct the passions, invigorate the mental faculties, and confirm in their hearts true and solid sentiments of virtue, wisdom, and glory. Johnson's preface makes it clear that Americans who wrote for adoles cents were not alone in following a heavy moral agenda; the selec tions from Berquin and others in Looking-Glass and Blossoms of Moral ity show that the drive to simultaneously entertain and instruct ju veniles extended throughout Western Europe. Popular American reprints of British works for young children included Tom Thumb (Boston, ca. 1766); The Life Death and Burial of Cock Robin (Worcester, 1787); Richard Johnson’ s The Juvenile Biog rapher (Boston, 1787); The Affecting History of the Children in the Wood (Hartford, 1796); and The Puzzling Cap (Boston, 1792).106 Al though entertainment was given much higher priority than instruction in all these texts except Johnson's, certain editions of the other four argued for traditional moral principles. For instance, an 1800 edition of the Tom Thumb story, The Life and Death of Tom Thumb, The Little Giant, contains the following digression: How TOM became a greater Man than his Mother. Before we attempt to prove this, we must inquire what makes a great man. Is it a great head? No. Is it a long leg? No. Is it a big body? No. . . . — But I'll tell you what it is. It is a wise head and a good heart that constitutes a great man. It is wisdom and virtue, and that only which can make us great and happy