University of Virginia Library

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AS the Dedication was accepted, and approved, by the respectable character, to whom it was addressed, and in the press, previous to the unfortunate event, which deprived science and mankind of that ornament to both, the author is induced, rather from a sentiment of propriety than vanity, to insert the following Note, the last effort of a mind, the faculties of which were never impaired.

“Mr. Bowdoin this morning had the pleasure of receiving Mrs. ---'s very polite billet, accompanied with a manuscript Poem, entitled, “The Virtues of Nature.”

“Her intention of dedicating it to him does him great honor, and as such he shall accept it, as coming from the well-directed pen of the ingenious Philenia.

“In the Dedication, which he wishes as justly applied, as it is well written, he begs leave to reverse one sentiment, that the volume will be so far from needing the candor and benevolence of the reader to recommend it, that it will stand the test of the most critical judgment and taste.

“The volume would be enlarged by that Lady's adding to it from her budget of poetry, such a number of pieces, as would make it respectable, not only for the matter, but for its size.

“Mr. Bowdoin would propose that the manuscript should remain where it is, for a day or two, to give Mrs. Bowdoin and her daughter, Lady Temple, an opportunity of reading it. In the mean time he begs leave to salute the amiable Philenia with his best and most respectful compliments.

“In room of Philenia, he thinks it would be best the real name of the fair author should be substituted.”

Boston, October 16th, 1790.

INTRODUCTION.

From an idea of being original in my subject, I was induced to undertake the following Tale. The manners and customs of the Aborigines of North America are so limited and simple, that they have scarcely engaged the attention either of the Philosopher or the Poet. Acquainted with some of their interesting ceremonies from tradition, I became desirous of gaining further intelligence, and gratefully acknowledge myself indebted to the obliging communications of General Lincoln, for most of the local rites and customs alluded to, where I have not quoted any other authority. The opportunity his public commission, in the late negociations between the United States and the Southern Indians, has afforded him to acquire the best information, added to the respectability of his character, will render his authority unquestioned.

As my principal design in attempting the Poem was to amuse my retired hours, and to gratify a few amiable friends, it is alone in compliance with the solicitations of those friends, that I have been prevailed upon to expose it to the public eye; but I am led to presume that, deficient as the Poetry really is, it will convey some information, from the collection of many particulars which are not generally known.

The grades of human nature, and the various propensities and avocations of mankind, in their different states and societies, must always be greatly interesting to the view of the philosopher; and even the most trifling production may become useful, if it serves to throw light on so important a subject.

It may perhaps be objected, that I have given my favourite Ouâbi, a degree of insensibility, with respect to the love of Celario, incompatible with the greatness and superiority of his character: To this I reply, that the mind, unpracticed in deception, can never be capable of suspicion; and that not having known the European vices, he could have no idea of their existence.

It may also be imagined, that, considering the exalted virtue and resolution of Azâkia, which could lead her even to death for the man, to whom she was contracted, her ready compliance with the proposition of Ouâbi, and the joy she evinces on that occasion, form an unpardonable contradiction; but it must be remembered, that from the customs and laws of every country its manners and morals are derived. Azâkia, bound to her husband by every tie, would not deceive him; but when he expressed a wish to resign her, she could have no idea of his insincerity; so much is truth the characteristic of a state of nature: It then became a duty, a virtue, to pursue the first wish of her heart.

I am aware it may be considered improbable, that an amiable and polished European should attach himself to the persons and manners of an uncivilized people; but there is now a living instance of a like propensity. A gentleman of fortune, born in America, and educated in all the refinements and luxuries of Great Britain, has lately attached himself to a female savage, in whom he finds every charm I have given my Azâkia; and in consequence of his inclination, has relinquished his own country and connections, incorporated himself into the society, and adopted the manners of the virtuous, though uncultivated Indian.

Many of the outlines of the Fable are taken from a prose story in Mr. Carey's entertaining and instructing Museum; but as the opening scene of that narrative was rather deficient in decency, and the conclusion, in my opinion, very little interesting, I have entirely changed it in those respects, and have introduced a variety of customs, the description of battles, and many other circumstances, which appeared essential to poetry, and necessary to the plot; still I acknowledge myself indebted to that production for many of the events, and for the names of the characters.

Should any be induced to think that I have given too many perfections to a rude uncultivated savage, let them read the following

apostrophe by a celebrated French author. “I glanced my eye rapidly over the scene, and in a vast country, to us hitherto unknown, I saw a naked Indian, having nothing but God and nature above him, enjoying the benefits which offer, without analysing them. His body was supple and robust, his eye lively and piercing, his ear attentive, in his deportment a certain air of haughtiness, of which we have no kind of idea in our degenerate climate. He seems even more graceful and majestic when beside his female companion, his eye is milder, his countenance more serene.” But the authority by which I have been influenced, and from which I feel myself justified, is William Penn, founder of Pennsylvania, whose manners and principles could not admit of exaggeration, or extravagancy of expression. In his letters to his friends in England, he describes the North-American Indians in the following terms. “For their persons they are generally tall, straight, well built, and of singular proportion: they tread strong and clever, and mostly walk with a lofty chin: the thick lip and flat nose, so frequent with the East-Indians and blacks, are not common with them; for I have seen as comely, European-like faces among them of both sexes, as on your side the sea. And truly an Italian complexion hath not much more of the white, and the noses of several have as much of the Roman.”

“They are great concealers of their own resentment, but in liberality they excel; nothing is too good for their friend. Their government is by kings; every king has his council, and that consists of all the old and wise men of his nation; nothing of moment is undertaken without advising with them, and what is more, with the young men too. It is admirable to consider how powerful their kings are, and yet how they move by the breath of the people. I have

had occasion to be in council with them; while any one spoke, not a man of them was observed to whisper or smile, the old grave, the young reverend, in their deportment; they speak little, but fervently, and with elegance; I have never seen more natural sagacity, considering them without the help (I was going to say the spoil) of tradition.” Sanctioned by such authorities I flatter myself, allowing for the justifiable embellishments of poetry, that I shall not be considered an enthusiast in my descriptions. The liberal reader will, I trust, make many allowances for the various imperfections of the work, from a consideration of my sex and situation; the one by education incident to weakness, the other from duty devoted to domestic avocations. And I am induced to hope, that the attempting a subject wholly American will in some respect entitle me to the partial eye of the patriot; that, as a young author, I shall be received with tenderness, and, as an involuntary one, be criticised with candor.