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181Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Logan  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The battle was over. The wreathed smoke turned into blue air, and the polluted wave heaved smoothly after the uproar, as if purified by the very blood that had been poured into it.
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182Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Errata, or, The works of Will. Adams  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: If there ever was a coward upon earth, I am one. If God ever made a thing so contemptible, I was born one. From my earliest recollection of myself, the very name of death was frightful to me: and, when I came to understand what it meant; and to see how it fastened upon whatever I happened to love, so invisibly, yet so fatally; how it altered whatever it touched, till every body fled from it, even the mother from her babe; how it affected the voices of men, when they spoke of it —I began to feel—I hardly know how, toward it—it was not as other children felt; not, as if death were a shadow, or a power, the common enemy of our race—but, I hated it with a bitterness and earnestness—and feared it, with a fear, that kept my blood in a continual agitation—as if it were a real, living creature; and my own particular, deadly enemy. Nay, even now, with all my experience, and discipline; notwithstanding all that I have encountered, and suffered, in the hope of overcoming this weakness of my nature; it is a fact, that the very thought of death, when I am alone, is enough to drive me distracted.
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183Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Errata, or, The works of Will. Adams  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: One year; one whole year hath passed away, since I finished the last chapter. This very evening completes it. And even yet, my hand trembles, in taking up the story again. I feel like one, who, having grown old in sorrow and loneliness, is about to enter again, for the first time, since the death of a beloved one,—the apartment where she died.—How shall I bear it?—Is there, do you believe, upon the wide earth, a man of my age, so utterly desolate, as I, at this moment? I do not believe that there is. I have loved, and been beloved, truly and tenderly; very passionately too; and devoutly, at times;—been blessed, beyond the lot of other men—with the wife of my heart, and the babe of my strength, beautiful as day, and good, as beautiful—but where are they? Man, man! of what avail is all thy sorrowing and humiliation!—thy penitence and contrition? The curse of thy boyhood pursues thee! the shadow of thy transgressions; and, where the good man beholds but the visiting of God's own hand, in gentleness and love, the wicked quake under it, as beneath the unsparing retribution of one, that hath power, and will not be appeased. “But for your sake, my dear Wallace, I should never write to you another line. I had nearly come once to the resolution, never to speak, nor think, nor write of you again. You have been ill. I am sorry for it.— But the worst illness that you have, is one, of which, whatever be the consequences. I am determined to speak plainly.—You want resolution, steadiness, and resisting power. “I have perused your affectionate letter.”
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184Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Randolph  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: No, dear; you are mistaken in Molton. He is not the abject creature that you believe. I have no proof to offer you, it is true;—nothing but my bare word; and that too, founded upon an interview of ten minutes. But, nevertheless, I do entreat you to believe me; or, if that be too much, Sarah, let me beg that you suspend your opinion awhile, and not express it, to any human creature, until you are assured that you are not wronging a noble nature. I wish that you could have seen him, cousin, when I handed your note to him. You would have given up all your prejudices, I am sure, on the spot; nay—you would have wept. As he read it, I saw a slight convulsion pass over his broad forehead;—it contracted a little too, and then, there was a quiet hectick; and his patient light blue eyes flashed fire;—and, if I must tell the truth, there was an angry fierceness in his look, for a single moment, that, in spite of myself, made me tremble; but, when this was followed, as it was, almost immediately, by a mortal paleness, and a slow, calm movement of the arm and hand, as he reached out the billet to me, it was really appalling. It almost took my strength away. Such a delicate creature,—so effeminate, and sickly!—it is unaccountable to me, how his presence should so affect me. Mr. Ramsay died last evening, between ten and eleven, with little pain, and in the full possession of his faculties. His daughter is seriously indisposed; but she has the best medical attention in the country; and her deportment toward her father, during his short illness, has made her many friends. Be assured, madam, that she shall want for nothing. She wrote a note yesterday morning, and gave it to me, with your address, requesting me, if the event should be as we anticipated, to enclose it to you. She took to her bed, immediately; or rather, we carried her, by force, from the presence of her father, who commanded it; and she is now delirious. Mr. Ramsay received every attention and kindness, that he could have received at home. A catholick clergyman, from Boston, one of the most amiable and benevolent of men, was with him all the time, during the last two days; and no human being ever manifested more resignation, after he was told that death was inevitable. At first, he was a good deal agitated; yet, he told me, not an hour afterward, that he knew he should die in my house, the first night that he slept here. I laughed at the notion then, but it was verified. He did die, in the very room, in the very bed, and at the very hour which he had foretold. I have had some experience in these things; and am willing to attribute much to the imagination; but, when I see a sober, sensible man, like him, yielding up to a belief that he has seen a spirit---pardon me, madam, I am little inclined to provoke a smile at such a moment; but, Mr. Ramsay, not an hour before his death, told me, that his wife had appeared to him, and summoned him. Was there any thing remarkable in her death? I ask the question, from some mysterious observations that I heard escape him, in conversation with his daughter, respecting the matter, when he was first taken ill. He told his physicians and me, that nothing could save him; but, desired us not to inform her. We tried all that we could, to divert his mind from meditating on the subject. But all in vain. Even medicine had no effect upon him. Can the mind counteract such things?—neutralize our poisons—dilute and dissipate the most corrosive, and fiery applications?— Is that sympathy so vital, that the blood cannot be chilled, where the mind is preternaturally heated? It was, in his case. Blisters were applied. They came off, as they went on. His skin had lost its sensibility. Purges and emeticks were given. No effect was produced. The stomach and bowels were impenetrable. Laudanum followed; but, the only result was, a more mortal coldness in the extremities; no sluggishness, no torpor;— the blood, therefore, was beyond our dominion. It is considered here, the most extraordinary case, within our experience; but we are told that such things may be, in the books; and our limited observation would seem to confirm the position. Sudden fright, I have known to produce death—and to restore drunken men. And the sea-sickness, always ceases, when the danger of shipwreck is imminent.
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185Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Randolph  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I have just arrived. My spirits are depressed; the weather is gloomy, and I feel myself to be really and truly alone, in a land of strangers. How will this adventure end?—Would that I might rend away the dark curtain, for a moment, and look into futurity. I might appalled--I might; but, were it not better to have your senses reel at once, and all your strength desert you; than to be cheated, as I have been, year after year, with hope and disappointment? What can I say to you? It is impossible that I can have anything to write; yet, my heart is heavy with thought and speculation. I promised to write, and, therefore have I written. Let me hear from you directly. I shall be impatient for your answer; for I feel as a stranger here, even in my retirement.
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186Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Seventy-six  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Yes, my children, I will no longer delay it. We are passing, one by one, from the place of contention, one after another, to the grave; and, in a little time, you may say—Our Fathers!—the men of the Revolution— where are they?..... Yes, I will go about it, in earnest: I will leave the record behind me, and when there is nothing else to remind you of your father, and your children's children, of their ancestor—nothing else, to call up his apparition before you, that you may see his aged and worn forehead—his white hair in the wind... you will have but to open the book, that I shall leave to you—and lay your right hand, devoutly, upon the page. It will have been written in blood and sweat, with prayer and weeping. But do that— no matter when it is, generations may have passed away—no matter where I am—my flesh and blood may have returned to their original element, or taken innumerable shapes of loveliness—my very soul may be standing in the presence of the Most High—Yet do ye this, and I will appear to you, instantly, in the deepest and dimmest solitude of your memory!— —Yes!—I will go about it, this very day... And I do pray you and them, as they shall be born successively of you, and yours, when all the family are about their sanctuary, their own fire side—the holy and comfortable place, to open the volume, and read it aloud. Let it be in the depth of winter, if it may be, when the labour of the year is over, and the heart is rejoicing in its home—and when you are alone:—not that I would frown upon the traveller, or blight the warm hospitality of your nature, by reproof—but there are some things, and some places, where the thought of the stranger is intrusion, the touch and hearing of the unknown man, little better than profanation. If you love each other, you will not go abroad for consolation: and if you are wise, you will preserve some hidden, fountains of your heart, unvisited but by one or two—the dearest and the best. This should be one of them—I will have it so. I would not have your feeling of holy, and solemn, and high enthusiasm, broken in upon, by the unprepared, just when you have been brought, perhaps, to travel in imagination, with your father, barefooted, over the frozen ground, leaving his blood at every step, as he went, desolate, famished, sick, naked, almost broken hearted, and almost alone, to fight the battles of your country.
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187Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Seventy-six  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: `Captain Oadley,' said Washington, to my brother, as we entered his quarters, about an hour after our arrest; there was something exceedingly solemn in his tone; `how happens it, sir, that I see you with your side arms?'
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188Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Rachel Dyer  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The early history of New-England, or of Massachusetts Bay, rather; now one of the six New-England States of North America, and that on which the Plymouth settlers, or “Fathers” went ashore—the shipwrecked men of mighty age, abounds with proof that witchcraft was a familiar study, and that witches and wizards were believed in for a great while, among the most enlightened part of a large and well-educated religious population. The multitude of course had a like faith; for such authority governs the multitude every where, and at all times. “Reverend Gentlemen,—The innocency of our case, with the enmity of our accusers and our judges and jury, whom nothing but our innocent blood will serve, having condemned us already before our trials, being so much incensed and enraged against us by the devil, makes us bold to beg and implore your favourable assistance of this our humble petition to his excellency, that if it be possible our innocent blood may be spared, which undoubtedly otherwise will be shed, if the Lord doth not mercifully step in; the magistrates, ministers, juries, and all the people in general, being so much enraged and incensed against us by the delusion of the devil, which we can term no other, by reason we know in our own consciences we are all innocent persons. Here are five persons who have lately confessed themselves to be witches, and do accuse some of us of being along with them at a sacrament, since we were committed into close prison, which we know to be lies. Two of the five are (Carrier's sons) young men, who would not confess any thing till they tied them neck and heels, till the blood was ready to come out of their noses; and it is credibly believed and reported this was the occasion of making them confess what they never did, by reason they said one had been a witch a month, and another five weeks, and that their mother had made them so, who has been confined here this nine weeks. My son William Proctor, when he was examined, because he would not confess that he was guilty, when he was innocent, they tied him neck and heels till the blood gushed out at his nose, and would have kept him so twenty-four hours, if one, more merciful than the rest, had not taken pity on him, and caused him to be unbound. These actions are very like the popish cruelties. They have already undone us in our estates, and that will not serve their turns without our innocent blood. If it cannot be granted that we have our trials at Boston, we humbly beg that you would endeavor to have these magistrates changed, and others in their rooms; begging also and beseeching you would be pleased to be here, if not all, some of you, at our trials, hoping thereby you may be the means of saving the shedding of innocent blood. Desiring your prayers to the Lord in our behalf, we rest your poor afflicted servants, “Being brought before the justices, her chief accusers were two girls. My wife declared to the justices, that she never had any knowledge of them before that day. She was forced to stand with her arms stretched out. I requested that I might old one of her hands, but it was denied me; then she desired me to wipe the tears from her eyes, and the sweat from her face, which I did; then she desired that she might lean herself on me, saying she should faint. By the honourable the lieutenant governor, council and assembly of his majesty's province of the Masachusetts-Bay, in general court assembled. “Upon the day of the fast, in the full assembly at the south meeting-house in Boston, one of the honorable judges, [the chief justice Sewall] who had sat in judicature in Salem, delivered in a paper, and while it was in reading stood up; but the copy being not to be obtained at present, it can only be reported by memory to this effect, viz. It was to desire the prayers of God's people for him and his; and that God having visited his family, &c, he was apprehensive that he might have fallen into some errors in the matters at Salem, and pray that the guilt of such miscarriages may not be imputed either to the country in general, or to him or his family in particular.
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189Author:  Neal John 1793-1876Add
 Title:  Authorship  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I must be allowed to tell my story in my own way; and though I speak in the first person, I hope to have it attributed to the true cause—a desire to be understood. `My dear Friend,
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190Author:  Neal Joseph C. (Joseph Clay) 1807-1847Add
 Title:  Charcoal sketches, or, Scenes in a metropolis  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It is said that poetry is on the decline, and that as man surrounds himself with artificial comforts, and devotes his energies to purposes of practical utility, the sphere of imagination becomes circumscribed, and the worship of the Muses is neglected. We are somewhat disposed to assent to this conclusion; the more from having remarked the fact that the true poetic temperament is not so frequently met with as it was a few years since, and that the outward marks of genius daily become more rare. Where the indications no longer exist, or where they gradually disappear, it is but fair to conclude that the thing itself is perishing. There are, it is true, many delightful versifiers at the present moment, but we fear that though they display partial evidences of inspiration upon paper, the scintillations are deceptive. Their conduct seldom exhibits sufficient proof that they are touched with the celestial fire, to justify the public in regarding them as the genuine article. Judging from the rules formerly considered absolute upon this point, it is altogether preposterous for your happy, well-behaved, well-dressed, smoothly-shaved gentleman, who pays his debts, and submits quietly to the laws framed for the government of the uninspired part of society, to arrogate to himself a place in the first rank of the sons of genius, whatever may be his merits with the gray goose quill. There is something defective about him. The divine afflatus has been denied, and though he may flap his wings, and soar as high as the house-tops, no one can think him capable of cleaving the clouds, and of playing hide and seek among the stars. Even if he were to do so, the spectator would either believe that his eyes deceived him, or that the successful flight was accidental, and owing rather to a temporary density of the atmosphere than to a strength of pinion.
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191Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Koningsmarke, the long Finne  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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192Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Koningsmarke, the long Finne  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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193Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  John Bull in America, or, The new Munchausen  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Previous to my departure for the Western paradise of liberty, my impressions with regard to the country were, upon the whole, rather of a favourable character. It is true, I did not believe a word of the inflated accounts given by certain French revolutionary travellers, such as Brissot, Chastellux, and others; much less in those of Birkbeck, Miss Wright, Captain Hall, and the rest of the radical fry. I was too conversant with the Quarterly Review, to be led astray by these Utopian romancers, and felt pretty well satisfied that the institutions of the country were altogether barbarous. I also fully believed that the people were a bundling, gouging, drinking, spitting, impious race, without either morals, literature, religion, or refinement; and that the turbulent spirit of democracy was altogether incompatible with any state of society becoming a civilized nation. Being thus convinced that their situation was, for the present, deplorable, and in the future entirely hopeless, unless they presently relieved themselves from the cumbrous load of liberty, under which they groaned, I fell into a sort of compassion for them, such as we feel for condemned criminals, having no hope of respite, and no claim to benefit of clergy.
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194Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  The merry tales of the three wise men of Gotham  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I was born, began the first Wise Man of Gotham, in a country that I consider unworthy of my nativity, and for that reason I shall do all in my power to deprive it of the honour, by not mentioning its name. I am, moreover, descended from a family, which must necessarily be of great antiquity, since, like all old things, it has long since fallen into decay. My father had little or no money, but was blessed with the poor man's wealth, a fruitful wife and great store of children. Of these I am the eldest; but at the period I shall commence my story, we were all too young to take care of ourselves, until the fortunate discovery was made by some great philanthropist, that little children, of six or seven years old, could labour a dozen or fourteen hours a day without stinting their minds, ruining their health, or destroying their morals. This improvement in the great science of PRODUCTIVE LABOUR, delighted my father—it was shifting the onus, as the lawyers say, from his own shoulders to that of his children. He forthwith bound us all over to a cotton manufactory, where we stood upon our legs three times as long as a member of congress, that is to say, fourteen hours a day, and among eight of us, managed to earn a guinea a week. The old gentleman, for gentleman he became from the moment he discovered his little flock could maintain him—thought he had opened a mine. He left off working, and took to drinking and studying the mysteries of political economy and productive labour. He soon became an adept in this glorious science, and at length arrived at the happy conclusion, that the whole moral, physical, political and religious organization of society, resolved itself into making the most of human labour, just as we do of that of our horses, oxen, asses and other beasts of burthen.
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195Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  The new mirror for travellers and guide to the springs  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: In compiling and cogitating this work, we have considered ourselves as having no manner of concern with travellers until they arrive in the city of New York, where we intend to take them under our especial protection. Doubtless, in proceeding from the south, there are various objects worth the attention of the traveller, who may take the opportunity of stopping to change horses, or to dine, to look round him a little, and see what is to be seen. But, generally speaking, all is lost time, until he arrives at New York, of which it may justly be said, that as Paris is France, so New York is—New York. It is here then that we take the fashionable tourist by the hand and commence cicerone.
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196Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Tales of the good woman  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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197Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Chronicles of the city of Gotham  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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198Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Westward ho!  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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199Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  Westward ho!  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “O rare Ben Jonson!” said some one, and O rare Beaumont and Fletcher say we; for in honest sincerity we prefer this gentle pair to all the old English dramatic writers except Shakspeare. For playful wit, richness of fancy, exuberance of invention, and, above all, for the sweet magic of their language, where shall we find their superiors among the British bards? It is not for us obscure wights to put on the critical nightcap, and, being notorious criminals ourselves, set up as judges of others; but we should hold ourselves base and ungrateful if we did not seize this chance opportunity to raise our voices in these remote regions of the West, where, peradventure, they never dreamed of one day possessing millions of readers, in humble acknowledgment of the many hours they have whiled away by the creations of their sprightly fancy, arrayed in the matchless melody of their tuneful verse. But mankind must have an idol, one who monopolizes their admiration and devotion. The name of Shakspeare has swallowed up that of his predecessors, contemporaries, and successors; thousands, tens of thousands echo his name that never heard of Marlow,—Marlow, to whom Shakspeare himself condescended to be indebted, and whose conception of the character of Faust is precisely that of Goëthe;—of Webster, Marston, Randolph, Cartwright, May, and all that singular knot of dramatists, who unite the greatest beauties with the greatest deformities, and whose genius has sunk under the licentiousness of the age in which it was their misfortune to live. The names of Massinger, Ben Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher are, it is true, more familiar; but it is only their names and one or two of their pieces that are generally known. These last have been preserved, not on the score of their superior beauties, but because they afforded an opportunity for Garrick and other great performers to reap laurels which belonged to the poet, by the exhibition of some striking character. Far be it from us to attempt to detract from the fame of Shakspeare. Superior he is, beyond doubt, to all his countrymen who went before or came after him, in the peculiar walk of his genius; but he is not so immeasurably superior as to cast all others into oblivion; and to us it seems almost a disgrace to England that a large portion of her own readers, and a still larger of foreigners, seem ignorant that she ever produced more than one dramatist.
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200Author:  Paulding James Kirke 1778-1860Add
 Title:  The book of Saint Nicholas  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Everybody has heard of St. Nicholas, that honest Dutch saint, whom I look upon as having been one of the most liberal, good-natured little fat fellows in the world. But, strange as it may seem, though everybody has heard, nobody seems to know anything about him. The place of his birth, the history of his life, and the manner in which he came to be the dispenser of Newyear cakes, and the patron of good boys, are matters that have hitherto not been investigated, as they ought to have been long and long ago. I am about to supply this deficiency, and pay a debt of honour which is due to this illustrious and obscure tutelary genius of the jolly Newyear.
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