MISCELLANY
        by Thomas Jefferson

 
        _Reply to the Representations of Affairs in America by British
Newspapers_

        [before November 20, 1784]

        I am an officer lately returned from service & residence in the
U.S. of America.  I have fought & bled for that country because I
thought it's cause just.  From the moment of peace to that in which I
left it, I have seen it enjoying all the happiness which easy
government, order & industry are capable of giving to a people.  On
my return to my native country what has been my astonishment to find
all the public papers of Europe filled with accounts of the anarchy &
destractions supposed to exist in that country.  I have received
serious condolances from all my friends on the bitter fruits of so
prosperous a war.  These friends I know to be so well disposed
towards America that they wished the reverse of what they repeated
from the public papers.  I have enquired into the source of all this
misinformation & have found it not difficult to be traced.  The
printers on the Continent have not yet got into the habit of taking
the American newspapers.  Whatever they retail therefore on the
subject of America, they take from the English.  If your readers will
reflect a moment they will recollect that every unfavourable account
they have seen of the transactions in America has been taken from the
English papers only.  Nothing is known in Europe of the situation of
the U.S. since the acknowlegement of their independance but thro' the
channel of these papers.

        But these papers have been under the influence of two ruling
motives 1. deep-rooted hatred springing from an unsuccesful attempt
to injure 2. a fear that their island will be depopulated by the
emigration of it's inhabitants to America.  Hence no paper comes out
without a due charge of paragraphs manufactured by persons employed
for that purpose.  According to these America is a scene of continued
riot & anarchy.  Wearied out with contention, it is on the verge of
falling again into the lap of Gr. Br. for repose.  It's citizens are
groaning under the oppression of heavy taxes.  They are flying for
refuge to the frozen regions which still remain subject to Gr. Br.
Their assemblies and congresses are become odious, in one paragraph
represented as tyrranising over their constituents, & in another as
possessing no power or influence at all, &c. &c. The truth is as
follows without aggravation or diminution.  There was a mutiny of 300
souldiers in Philadelphia soon after the peace; & Congress thinking
the executive of that state did not act with proper energy to
suppress & punish it they left that city in disgust.  Yet in this
mutiny there neither was blood shed nor a blow struck.  There has
lately been a riot in Charlestown, occasioned by the feuds between
the whigs who had been driven from their country by the British while
they possessed it, and the tories who were permitted to remain by the
Americans when they recovered it.  There were a few instances in
other states where individuals disgusted with some articles in the
peace undertook to call town meetings, published the resolves of the
few citizens whom they could prevail upon to meet as if they had been
the resolves of the whole town, and endeavored unsuccesfully to
engage the people in the execution of their private views.  It is
beleived that these attempts have not been more than ten or a dozen
thro' the whole 13 states & not one of them has been succesful: on
the contrary where any illegal act has been committed by the
demagogues they have been put under a due course of legal
prosecution.  The British when they evacuated New York having carried
off, contrary to the express articles of the treaty of peace, a great
deal of property belonging to the citizens of the U.S. & particularly
to those of the state of Virginia, amounting as has been said to half
a million of pounds sterling, the assembly of that state lately
resolved that till satisfaction was made for this, the article
respecting British debts ought not to be carried into full execution,
submitting nevertheless this their opinion to Congress and declaring
that if they thought otherwise, all laws obstructing the recovery of
debts should be immediately repealed.  Yet even this was opposed by a
respectable minority in their senate who entered a protest against it
in strong terms.  The protest as it stands in the records follows
immediately the resolutions protested against & therefore does not
recite them.  The English papers publish the protest without the
resolutions and thus lead Europe to beleive that the resolutions had
definitively decided against the paiment of British debts.  Yet
nothing is less true.  This is a faithful history of the high sounded
disturbances of America.  Those who have visited that country since
the peace will vouch that it is impossible for any governments to be
more tranquil & orderly than they are.  What were the mutiny of 300
souldiers in Philada, the riot of whigs & tories in Charlestown to
the riots of London under L'd. G. Gordon, and of London & the country
in general in the late elections?  Where is there any country of
equal extent with the U.S. in which fewer disturbances have happened
in the same space of time?  Where has there been an instance of an
army disbanded as was that of America without receiving a shilling of
the long arrearages due them or even having their accounts settled &
yet disbanded peaceably?  Instead of resorting as is too often the
case with disbanded armies to beggary or robbery for a livelihood
they returned every man to his home & resumed his axe & spade; & it
is a fact as true as it is singular that on the disbanding of an army
of 30,000 men in America there have been but two or three instances
of any of those who composed it being brought to the bar of justice
as criminals: and that you may travel from one end to the other of
the continent without seeing a beggar.  With respect to the people
their confidence in their rulers in general is what common sense will
tell us it must be, where they are of their own choice annually,
unbribed by money, undebauched by feasting, & drunkenness.  It would
be difficult to find one man among them who would not consider a
return under the dominion of Gr. Br. as the greatest of all possible
miseries.  Their taxes are light, as they should be with a people so
lately wasted in the most cruel manner by war.  They pay in
proportion to their property from one half to one & a half per cent
annually on it's whole value as estimated by their neighbors, the
different states requiring more or less as they have been less or
more ravaged by their enemies.  Where any taxes are imposed they are
very trifling & are calculated cheifly to bring merchants into
contribution with the farmers.  Against their emigration to the
remaining British dominions the superior rigor of their climate, the
inferiority of their soil, the nature of their governments and their
being actually inhabited by their most mortal enemies the tory
refugees, will be an eternal security.  During the course of the war
the English papers were constantly filled with accounts of their
great victories, their armies were daily gaining.  Yet Europe saw
that they were daily losing ground in America, & formed it's idea of
the truth not from what it heard but from what it saw.  They wisely
considered an enlargement of territory on the one side & contraction
of it on the other as the best indication on which side victory
really was.  It is hoped that Europe will be as wise & as just now:
that they will not consider the fabricated papers of England as any
evidence of truth; but that they will continue to judge of causes
from effects.  If the distractions of America were what these papers
pretend, some great facts would burst out & lay their miseries open
to the eyes of all the world: no such effects appear, therefore no
such causes exist.  If any such existed they would appear in the
American newspapers which are as free as any on earth.  But none such
can be found in them.  These are the testimonials to which I appeal
for beleif.  To bring more home to every reader the reliance which
may be put on the English papers let him examine, if a Frenchman,
what account they give of the affairs of France, if a Dutchman, what
of the United Netherl'ds., if an Irishman, what of Ireland &c.  If he
finds that those of his own country with which he happens to be
acquainted are wickedly misrepresented, let him consider how much
more likely to be so are those of a nation so hated as America.
America was the great pillar on which British glory was raised:
America has been the instrument for levelling that glory with the
dust.  A little ill humour therefore might have found excuse in our
commiseration: but an apostasy from truth, under whatever
misfortunes, calls up feelings of a very different order.

 
        _Answers and Observations for Demeunier's Article on the United
States in the_ Encyclopedie
        Methodique, 1786

        I. From _Answers to Demeunier's First Queries_

        January 24, 1786

        II. The Confederation is a wonderfully perfect instrument,
considering the circumstances under are however some alterations
which experience proves to be wanting.  These are principally three.
1_ To establish a general rule for the admission of new states into
the Union.  By the Confederation no new state, except Canada, can be
permitted to have a vote in Congress without first obtaining the
consent of all the thirteen legislatures.  It becomes necessary to
agree what districts may be established into separate states, and at
what period of their population they may come into Congress.  The act
of Congress of April 23, 1784, has pointed out what ought to be
agreed on, to say also what number of votes must concur when the
number of voters shall be thus enlarged.  2. The Confederation in
it's eighth article, decides that the quota of money to be
contributed by the several states shall be proportioned to the value
of landed property in the state.  Experience has shown it
impracticable to come at this value.  Congress have therefore
recommended to the states to agree that their quotas shall be in
proportion to the number of their inhabitants, counting 5 slaves
however but as equal to 3 free inhabitants.  I believe all the states
have agreed to this alteration except Rhode island.  3. The
Confederation forbids the states individually to enter into treaties
of commerce, or of any other nature, with foreign nations: and it
authorizes Congress to establish such treaties, with two reservations
however, viz., that they shall agree to no treaty which would 1.
restrain the legislatures from imposing such duties on foreigners, as
natives are subjected to; or 2. from prohibiting the exportation or
importation of any species of commodities.  Congress may therefore be
said to have a power to regulate commerce, so far as it can be
effected by conventions with other nations, & by conventions which do
not infringe the two fundamental reservations before mentioned.  But
this is too imperfect.  Because till a convention be made with any
particular nation, the commerce of any one of our states with that
nation may be regulated by the State itself, and even when a
convention is made, the regulation of the commerce is taken out of
the hands of the several states only so far as it is covered or
provided for by that convention or treaty.  But treaties are made in
such general terms, that the greater part of the regulations would
still result to the legislatures.  Let us illustrate these
observations by observing how far the commerce of France & of England
can be affected by the state legislatures.  As to England, any one of
the legislatures may impose on her goods double the duties which are
paid other nations; may prohibit their goods altogether; may refuse
them the usual facilities for recovering their debts or withdrawing
their property, may refuse to receive their Consuls or to give those
Consuls any jurisdiction.  But with France, whose commerce is
protected by a treaty, no state can give any molestation to that
commerce which is defended by the treaty.  Thus, tho' a state may
exclude the importation of all wines (because one of the reservations
aforesaid is that they may prohibit the importation of any species of
commodities) yet they cannot prohibit the importation of _French_
wines particularly while they allow wines to be brought in from other
countries.  They cannot impose heavier duties on French commodities
than on those of other nations.  They cannot throw peculiar obstacles
in the way of their recovery of debts due to them &c. &c. because
those things are provided for by treaty.  Treaties however are very
imperfect machines for regulating commerce in the detail.  The
principal objects in the regulation of our commerce would be: 1. to
lay such duties, restrictions, or prohibitions on the goods of any
particular nation as might oblige that nation to concur in just &
equal arrangements of commerce.  2.  To lay such uniform duties on
the articles of commerce throughout all the states, as may avail them
of that fund for assisting to bear the burthen of public expenses.
Now this cannot be done by the states separately; because they will
not separately pursue the same plan.  New Hampshire cannot lay a
given duty on a particular article, unless Massachusetts will do the
same; because it will turn the importation of that article from her
ports into those of Massachusetts, from whence they will be smuggled
into New Hampshire by land.  But tho Massachusetts were willing to
concur with N Hampshire in laying the same duty, yet she cannot do
it, for the same reason, unless Rhode island will also, nor can Rhode
island without Connecticut, nor Connecticut without N York, nor N
York without N Jersey, & so on quite to Georgia.  It is visible
therefore that the commerce of the states cannot be regulated to the
best advantage but by a single body, and no body so proper as
Congress.  Many of the states have agreed to add an article to the
Confederation for allowing to Congress the regulation of their
commerce, only providing that the revenues to be raised on it, shall
belong to the state in which they are levied.  Yet it is believed
that Rhode island will prevent this also.  An everlasting recurrence
to this same obstacle will occasion a question to be asked.  How
happens it that Rhode island is opposed to every useful proposition?
Her geography accounts for it, with the aid of one or two
observations.  The cultivators of the earth are the most virtuous
citizens, and possess most of the amor patriae.  Merchants are the
least virtuous, and possess the least of the amor patriae.  The
latter reside principally in the seaport towns, the former in the
interior country.  Now it happened that of the territory constituting
Rhode island & Connecticut, the part containing the seaports was
erected into a state by itself & called Rhode island, & that
containing the interior country was erected into another state called
Connecticut.  For tho it has a little seacoast, there are no good
ports in it.  Hence it happens that there is scarcely one merchant in
the whole state of Connecticut, while there is not a single man in
Rhode island who is not a merchant of some sort.  Their whole
territory is but a thousand square miles, and what of that is in use
is laid out in grass farms almost entirely.  Hence they have scarcely
any body employed in agriculture.  All exercise some species of
commerce.  This circumstance has decided the characters of these two
states.  The remedies to this evil are hazardous.  One would be to
consolidate the two states into one.  Another would be to banish
Rhode island from the union.  A third to compel her submission to the
will of the other twelve.  A fourth for the other twelve to govern
themselves according to the new propositions and to let Rhode island
go on by herself according to the antient articles.  But the dangers
& difficulties attending all these remedies are obvious.

        These are the only alterations proposed to the confederation,
and the last of them is the only additional power which Congress is
thought to need.

        21. Broils among the states may happen in the following ways:
1. A state may be embroiled with the other twelve by not complying
with the lawful requisitions of Congress.  2. Two states may differ
about their boundaries.  But the method of settling these is fixed by
the Confederation, and most of the states which have any differences
of this kind are submitting them to this mode of determination; and
there is no danger of opposition to the decree by any state.  The
individuals interested may complain, but this can produce no
difficulty.  3. Other contestations may arise between two states,
such as pecuniary demands, affrays among their citizens, & whatever
else may arise between any two nations.  With respect to these, there
are two opinions.  One that they are to be decided according to the
9th article of the Confederation, which says that "Congress shall be
the last resort in all differences between two or more states,
concerning boundary jurisdiction, _or any other cause whatever_ ";
and prescribes the mode of decision, and the weight of reason is
undoubtedly in favor of this opinion, yet there are some who question
it.

        It has been often said that the decisions of Congress are
impotent because the Confederation provides no compulsory power.  But
when two or more nations enter into compact, it is not usual for them
to say what shall be done to the party who infringes it.  Decency
forbids this, and it is unnecessary as indecent, because the right of
compulsion naturally results to the party injured by the breach.
When any one state in the American Union refuses obedience to the
Confederation by which they have bound themselves, the rest have a
natural right to compel them to obedience.  Congress would probably
exercise long patience before they would recur to force; but if the
case ultimately required it, they would use that recurrence.  Should
this case ever arise, they will probably coerce by a naval force, as
being more easy, less dangerous to liberty, & less likely to produce
much bloodshed.

        It has been said too that our governments both federal and
particular want energy; that it is difficult to restrain both
individuals & states from committing wrong.  This is true, & it is an
inconvenience.  On the other hand that energy which absolute
governments derive from an armed force, which is the effect of the
bayonet constantly held at the breast of every citizen, and which
resembles very much the stillness of the grave, must be admitted also
to have it's inconveniences.  We weigh the two together, and like
best to submit to the former.  Compare the number of wrongs committed
with impunity by citizens among us, with those committed by the
sovereign in other countries, and the last will be found most
numerous, most oppressive on the mind, and most degrading of the
dignity of man.
 
        2. From _Observations on Demeunier's Manuscript_

        OBSERVATIONS ON THE ARTICLE ETATS-UNIS
        PREPARED FOR THE ENCYCLOPEDIE.

        June 22, 1786

        1. II. 17. 29. Pa 8. The Malefactors sent to America were not
sufficient in number to merit enumeration as one class out of three
which peopled America.  It was at a late period of their history that
this practice began.  I have no book by me which enables me to point
out the date of it's commencement.  But I do not think the whole
number sent would amount to 2000 & being principally men, eaten up
with disease, they married seldom & propagated little.  I do not
suppose that themselves & their descendants are at present 4000,
which is little more than one thousandth part of the whole
inhabitants.

        Indented servants formed a considerable supply.  These were
poor Europeans who went to America to settle themselves.  If they
could pay their passage it was well.  If not, they must find means of
paying it.  They were at liberty therefore to make an agreement with
any person they chose, to serve him such a length of time as they
agreed on, on condition that he would repay to the master of the
vessel the expenses of their passage.  If being foreigners unable to
speak the language, they did not know how to make a bargain for
themselves the captain of the vessel contracted for them with such
persons as he could.  This contract was by deed indented, which
occasioned them to be called indented servants.  Sometimes they were
called Redemptioners, because by their agreement with the master of
the vessel they could _redeem_ themselves from his power by paying
their passage, which they frequently effected by hiring themselves on
their arrival as is before mentioned.  In some states I know that
these people had a right of marrying themselves without their
master's leave, & I did suppose they had that right everywhere.  I
did not know that in any of the states they demanded so much as a
week for every day's absence without leave.  I suspect this must have
been at a very early period while the governments were in the hands
of the first emigrants, who being mostly labourers, were
narrow-minded and severe.  I know that in Virginia the laws allowed
their servitude to be protracted only two days for every one they
were absent without leave.  So mild was this kind of servitude, that
it was very frequent for foreigners who carried to America money
enough, not only to pay their passage, but to buy themselves a farm,
it was common I say for them to indent themselves to a master for
three years, for a certain sum of money, with a view to learn the
husbandry of the country.  I will here make a general observation.
So desirous are the poor of Europe to get to America, where they may
better their condition, that, being unable to pay their passage, they
will agree to serve two or three years on their arrival there, rather
than not go.  During the time of that service they are better fed,
better clothed, and have lighter labour than while in Europe.
Continuing to work for hire a few years longer, they buy a farm,
marry, and enjoy all the sweets of a domestic society of their own.
The American governments are censured for permitting this species of
servitude which lays the foundation of the happiness of these people.
But what should these governments do?  Pay the passage of all those
who chuse to go into their country?  They are not able; nor, were
they able, do they think the purchase worth the price?  Should they
exclude these people from their shores?  Those who know their
situations in Europe & America, would not say that this is the
alternative which humanity dictates.  It is said that these people
are deceived by those who carry them over.  But this is done in
Europe.  How can the American governments prevent it?  Should they
punish the deceiver?  It seems more incumbent on the European
government, where the act is done, and where a public injury is
sustained from it.  However it is only in Europe that this deception
is heard of.  The individuals are generally satisfied in America with
their adventure, and very few of them wish not to have made it.  I
must add that the Congress have nothing to do with this matter.  It
belongs to the legislatures of the several states.

        Ib. l. 12. "Mal-aise d' indiquer la nuance precise &c." In
forming a scale of crimes & punishments, two considerations have
principal weight.  1. The atrocity of the crime.  2. The peculiar
circumstances of a country which furnish greater temptations to
commit it, or greater facilities for escaping detection.  The
punishment must be heavier to counterbalance this.  Was the first the
only consideration, all nations would form the same scale.  But as
the circumstances of a country have influence on the punishment, and
no two countries exist precisely under the same circumstances, no two
countries will form the same scale of crimes & punishments.  For
example in America, the inhabitants let their horses go at large in
the uninclosed lands which are so extensive as to maintain them
altogether.  It is easy therefore to steal them & easy to escape.
Therefore the laws are obliged to oppose these temptations with a
heavier degree of punishment.  For this reason the stealing of a
horse in America is punished more severely than stealing the same
value in any other form.  In Europe where horses are confined so
securely that it is impossible to steal them, that species of theft
need not be punished more severely than any other.  In some countries
of Europe, stealing fruit from trees is punished capitally.  The
reason is that it being impossible to lock fruit trees up in coffers,
as we do our money, it is impossible to oppose physical bars to this
species of theft.  Moral ones are therefore opposed by the laws.
This to an unreflecting American, appears the most enormous of all
the abuses of power; because he has been used to see fruits hanging
in such quantities that if not taken by men they would rot: he has
been used to consider it therefore as of no value, as not furnishing
materials for the commission of a crime.  This must serve as an
apology for the arrangements of crimes & punishments in the scale
under our consideration.  A different one would be formed here; &
still different ones in Italy, Turkey, China, &c.

        Pa. 240. "Les officiers Americains &c." to pa 264. "qui le
meritoient." I would propose to new-model this Section in the
following manner.  1. Give a succinct history of the origin &
establishment of the Cincinnati.  2. Examine whether in its present
form it threatens any dangers to the state.  3. Propose the most
practicable method of preventing them.

        Having been in America during the period in which this
institution was formed, and being then in a situation which gave me
opportunities of seeing it in all it's stages, I may venture to give
M. de Meusnier materials for the 1st branch of the preceding
distribution of the subject.  The 2d and 3d he will best execute
himself.  I should write it's history in the following form.

        When, on the close of that war which established the
independance of America, it's army was about to be disbanded, the
officers, who during the course of it had gone thro the most trying
scenes together, who by mutual aids & good offices had become dear to
one another, felt with great oppression of mind the approach of that
moment which was to separate them never perhaps to meet again.  They
were from different states & from distant parts of the same state.
Hazard alone could therefore give them but rare & partial occasions
of seeing each other.  They were of course to abandon altogether the
hope of ever meeting again, or to devise some occasion which might
bring them together.  And why not come together on purpose at stated
times?  Would not the trouble of such a journey be greatly overpaid
by the pleasure of seeing each other again, by the sweetest of all
consolations, the talking over the scenes of difficulty & of
endearment they had gone through?  This too would enable them to know
who of them should succeed in the world, who should be unsuccessful,
and to open the purses of all to every labouring brother.  This idea
was too soothing not to be cherished in conversation.  It was
improved into that of a regular association with an organized
administration, with periodical meetings general & particular, fixed
contributions for those who should be in distress, & a badge by which
not only those who had not had occasion to become personally known
should be able to recognize one another, but which should be worn by
their descendants to perpetuate among them the friendships which had
bound their ancestors together.  Genl.  Washington was at that moment
oppressed with the operation of disbanding an army which was not
paid, and the difficulty of this operation was increased by some two
or three of the states having expressed sentiments which did not
indicate a sufficient attention to their paiment. He was sometimes
present when his officers were fashioning in their conversations
their newly proposed society.  He saw the innocence of it's origin, &
foresaw no effects less innocent.  He was at that time writing his
valedictory letter to the states, which has been so deservedly
applauded by the world.  Far from thinking it a moment to multiply
the causes of irritation, by thwarting a proposition which had
absolutely no other basis but of benevolence & friendship, he was
rather satisfied to find himself aided in his difficulties by this
new incident, which occupied, & --, at the same time soothed the
minds of the officers.  He thought too that this institution would be
one instrument the more for strengthening the federal bond, & for
promoting federal ideas.  The institution was formed.  They
incorporated into it the officers of the French army & navy by whose
sides they had fought, and with whose aid they had finally prevailed,
extending it to such grades as they were told might be permitted to
enter into it.  They sent an officer to France to make the
proposition to them & to procure the badges which they had devised
for their order.  The moment of disbanding the army having come on
before they could have a full meeting to appoint their president, the
General was prayed to act in that office till their first general
meeting which was to be held at Philadelphia in the month of May
following.  The laws of the society were published.  Men who read
them in their closets, unwarmed by those sentiments of friendship
which had produced them, inattentive to those pains which an
approaching separation had excited in the minds of the institutors,
Politicians, who see in everything only the dangers with which it
threatens civil society, in fine the labouring people, who, shielded
by equal laws, had never seen any difference between man and man, but
had read of terrible oppressions which people of their description
experience in other countries from those who are distinguished by
titles & badges, began to be alarmed at this new institution.  A
remarkable silence however was observed.  Their sollicitudes were
long confined within the circles of private conversation.  At length
however a Mr.  Burke, chief justice of South Carolina, broke that
silence. He wrote against the new institution; foreboding it's
dangers very imperfectly indeed, because he had nothing but his
imagination to aid him.  An American could do no more: for to detail
the real evils of aristocracy they must be seen in Europe.  Burke's
fears were thought exaggerations in America; while in Europe it is
known that even Mirabeau has but faintly sketched the curses of
hereditary aristocracy as they are experienced here, and as they
would have followed in America had this institution remained.  The
epigraph of Burke's pamphlet was "Blow ye the trumpet in Zion." It's
effect corresponded with it's epigraph.  This institution became
first the subject of general conversation.  Next it was made the
subject of deliberation in the legislative assemblies of some of the
States.  The governor of South Carolina censured it in an address to
his Assembly.  The assemblies of Massachusetts, Rhode island and
Pennsylvania condemned it's principles.  No circumstance indeed
brought the consideration of it expressly before Congress, yet it had
sunk deep into their minds.  An offer having been made to them on the
part of the Polish order of divine providence to receive some of
their distinguished citizens into that order, they made that an
occasion to declare that these distinctions were contrary to the
principles of their confederation.  The uneasiness excited by this
institution had very early caught the notice of General Washington.
Still recollecting all the purity of the motives which gave it birth,
he became sensible that it might produce political evils which the
warmth of these motives had masked.  Add to this that it was
disapproved by the mass of citizens of the Union.  This alone was
reason strong enough in a country where the will of the majority is
the law, & ought to be the law.  He saw that the objects of the
institution were too light to be opposed to considerations as serious
as these; and that it was become necessary to annihilate it
absolutely.  On this therefore he was decided.  The first annual
meeting at Philadelphia was now at hand.  He went to that, determined
to exert all his influence for it's suppression.  He proposed it to
his fellow officers, and urged it with all his powers.  It met an
opposition which was observed to cloud his face with an anxiety that
the most distressful scenes of the war had scarcely ever produced.
It was canvassed for several days, & at length it was no more a doubt
what would be it's ultimate fate.  The order was on the point of
receiving it's annihilation by the vote of a very great majority of
it's members.  In this moment their envoy arrived from France,
charged with letters from the French officers accepting with
cordiality the proposed badges of union, with sollicitations from
others to be received into the order, & with notice that their
respectable sovereign had been pleased to recognize it, & permit his
officers to wear it's badges.  The prospect now changed.  The
question assumed a new form.  After the offer made by them, &
accepted by their friends, in what words could they clothe a
proposition to retract it which would not cover themselves with the
reproaches of levity & ingratitude? which would not appear an insult
to those whom they loved?  Federal principles, popular discontent,
were considerations whose weight was known & felt by themselves.  But
would foreigners know & feel them equally?  Would they so far
acknowledge their cogency as to permit without any indignation the
eagle & ribbon to be torn from their breasts by the very hands which
had placed them there?  The idea revolted the whole society.  They
found it necessary then to preserve so much of their institution as
might continue to support this foreign branch, while they should
prune off every other which would give offence to their fellow
citizens; thus sacrificing on each hand to their friends & to their
country.  The society was to retain it's existence, it's name, it's
meetings, & it's charitable funds: but these last were to be
deposited with their respective legislatures; the order was to be no
longer hereditary; a reformation which had been pressed even from
this side of the Atlantic; it was to be communicated to no new
members; the general meetings instead of annual were to be triennial
only.  The eagle & ribbon indeed were retained; because they were
worn, & they wished them to be worn, by their friends who were in a
country where they would not be objects of offence; but themselves
never wore them.  They laid them up in their bureaus with the medals
of American Independance, with those of the trophies they had taken &
the battles they had won.  But through all the United States no
officer is seen to offend the public eye with the display of this
badge.  These changes have tranquillized the American states.  Their
citizens do justice to the circumstances which prevented a total
annihilation of the order.  They feel too much interest in the
reputation of their officers, and value too much whatever may serve
to recall to the memory of their allies the moments wherein they
formed but one people.  Tho they are obliged by a prudent foresight
to keep out everything from among themselves which might pretend to
divide them into orders, and to degrade one description of men below
another, yet they hear with pleasure that their allies whom
circumstances have already placed under these distinctions, are
willing to consider it as one to have aided them in the establishment
of their liberties & to wear a badge which may recall to their
remembrance; and it would be an extreme affliction to them if the
domestic reformation which has been found necessary, if the censures
of individual writers, or if any other circumstance should discourage
the wearing their badge, or lessen it's reputation.

        This short but true history of the order of the Cincinnati,
taken from the mouths of persons on the spot who were privy to it's
origin & progress, & who knew it's present state, is the best apology
which can be made for an institution which appeared to be, & was
really, so heterogeneous to the governments in which it was erected.

        It should be further considered that, in America, no other
distinction between man & man had ever been known, but that of
persons in office exercising powers by authority of the laws, and
private individuals.  Among these last the poorest labourer stood on
equal ground with the wealthiest millionnaire, & generally on a more
favoured one whenever their rights seem to jar.  It has been seen
that a shoemaker, or other artisan, removed by the voice of his
country from his work bench into a chair of office, has instantly
commanded all the respect and obedience which the laws ascribe to his
office.  But of distinction by birth or badge they had no more idea
than they had of the mode of existence in the moon or planets.  They
had heard only that there were such, & knew that they must be wrong.
A due horror of the evils which flow from these distinctions could be
excited in Europe only, where the dignity of man is lost in arbitrary
distinctions, where the human species is classed into several stages
of degradation, where the many are crushed under the weight of the
few, & where the order established can present to the contemplation
of a thinking being no other picture than that of God almighty & his
angels trampling under foot the hosts of the damned.  No wonder then
that the institution of the Cincinnati should be innocently conceived
by one order of American citizens, could raise in the other orders
only a slow, temperate, & rational opposition, and could be viewed in
Europe as a detestable parricide.

        The 2d & 3d branches of this subject, no body can better
execute than M. de. Meusnier.  Perhaps it may be curious to him to
see how they strike an American mind at present.  He shall therefore
have the ideas of one who was an enemy to the institution from the
first moment of it's conception, but who was always sensible that the
officers neither foresaw, nor intended the injury they were doing to
their country.

        As to the question then, whether any evil can proceed from the
institution as it stands at present, I am of opinion there may.  1.
From the meetings.  These will keep the officers formed into a body;
will continue a distinction between the civil & military which it
would be for the good of the whole to obliterate as soon as possible;
& the military assemblies will not only keep alive the jealousies &
the fears of the civil government, but give ground for these fears &
jealousies.  For when men meet together, they will make business if
they have none; they will collate their grievances, some real, some
imaginary, all highly painted; they will communicate to each other
the sparks of discontent; & this may engender a flame which will
consume their particular, as well as the general, happiness.  2. The
charitable part of the institution is still more likely to do
mischief, as it perpetuates the dangers apprehended in the preceding
clause.  For here is a fund provided of permanent existence.  To whom
will it belong?  To the descendants of American officers of a certain
description.  These descendants then will form a body, having
sufficient interest to keep up an attention to their description, to
continue meetings, & perhaps, in some moment, when the political eye
shall be slumbering, or the firmness of their fellow-citizens
realized, to replace the insignia of the order & revive all its
pretensions.  What good can the officers propose which may weigh
against these possible evils?  The securing their descendants against
want?  Why afraid to trust them to the same fertile soil, & the same
genial climate which will secure from want the descendants of their
other fellow citizens?  Are they afraid they will be reduced to
labour the earth for their sustenance?  They will be rendered thereby
both honester and happier.  An industrious farmer occupies a more
dignified place in the scale of beings, whether moral or political,
than a lazy lounger, valuing himself on his family, too proud to
work, & drawing out a miserable existence by eating on that surplus
of other men's labour which is the sacred fund of the helpless poor.
A pitiful annuity will only prevent them from exerting that industry
& those talents which would soon lead them to better fortune.

        How are these evils to be prevented?  1. At their first general
meeting let them distribute the funds on hand to the existing objects
of their destination, & discontinue all further contributions.  2.
Let them declare at the same time that their meetings general &
particular shall henceforth cease.  3. Let them melt up their eagles
& add the mass to the distributable fund that their descendants may
have no temptation to hang them in their button holes.

        These reflections are not proposed as worthy the notice of M.
de Meusnier.  He will be so good as to treat the subject in his own
way, & no body has a better.  I will only pray him to avail us of his
forcible manner to evince that there is evil to be apprehended even
from the ashes of this institution, & to exhort the society in
America to make their reformation complete; bearing in mind that we
must keep the passions of men on our side even when we are persuading
them to do what they ought to do.

 
        Pa. 272. "Comportera peut etre une population de thirty
millions."

        The territories of the United States contain about a million of
square miles, English.  There is in them a greater proportion of
fertile lands than in the British dominions in Europe.  Suppose the
territory of the U.S. then to attain an equal degree of population
with the British European dominions, they will have an hundred
millions of inhabitants.  Let us extend our views to what may be the
population of the two continents of North & South America supposing
them divided at the narrowest part of the isthmus of Panama.  Between
this line and that of 50 degrees of north latitude the northern
continent contains about 5 millions of square miles, and South of
this line of division the Southern continent contains about 7
millions of square miles.  I do not pass the 50th degree of northern
latitude in my reckoning, because we must draw a line somewhere, &
considering the soil & climate beyond that, I would only avail my
calculation of it, as a make weight, to make good what the colder
regions within that line may be supposed to fall short in their
future population.  Here are 12 millions of square miles then, which
at the rate of population before assumed, will nourish 1200 millions
of inhabitants, a number greater than the present population of the
whole globe is supposed to amount to.  If those who propose medals
for the resolution of questions, about which nobody makes any
question, those who have invited discussions on the pretended problem
Whether the discovery of America was for the good of mankind? if
they, I say, would have viewed it only as doubling the numbers of
mankind, & of course the quantum of existence & happiness, they might
have saved the money & the reputation which their proposition has
cost them.  The present population of the inhabited parts of the U.S.
is of about 10. to the square mile; & experience has shown us, that
wherever we reach that the inhabitants become uneasy, as too much
compressed, and go off in great numbers to search for vacant country.
Within 40 years the whole territory will be peopled at that rate.  We
may fix that then as the term beyond which the people of those states
will not be restrained within their present limits; we may fix it too
as the term of population, which they will not exceed till the whole
of those two continents are filled up to that mark, that is to say,
till they shall contain 120 millions of inhabitants.  The soil of the
country on the western side of the Mississippi, it's climate, & it's
vicinity to the U.S. point it out as the first which will receive
population from that nest.  The present occupiers will just have
force enough to repress & restrain the emigrations to a certain
degree of consistence.  We have seen lately a single person go &
decide on a settlement in Kentucky, many hundred miles from any white
inhabitant, remove thither with his family and a few neighbors, &
though perpetually harassed by the Indians, that settlement in the
course of 10 years has acquired 30.000 inhabitants, it's numbers are
increasing while we are writing, and the state of which it formerly
made a part has offered it independance.

        3. To Jean Nicolas Demeunier

        June 26, 1786

        Mr. Jefferson presents his compliments to M. de Meusnier &
sends him copies of the 13th, 23d, & 24th articles of the treaty
between the K. of Prussia & the United States.

        In the negociation with the Minister of Portugal at London, the
latter objected to the 13th article.  The observations which were
made in answer to his objections Mr. Jefferson incloses.  They are a
commentary on the 13th article.  Mr. de Meusnier will be so good as
to return the sheet on which these observations are as Mr. Jefferson
does not retain a copy of it.

        If M. de Meusnier proposes to mention the facts of cruelty of
which he & Mr. Jefferson spoke yesterday, the 24th article will
introduce them properly, because they produced a sense of the
necessity of that article.  These facts are 1.  The death of upwards
of 11,000 Americans in one prison ship (the Jersey) and in the space
of 3. years.  2. General Howe's permitting our prisoners taken at the
battle of Germantown and placed under a guard in the yard of the
Statehouse of Philadelphia to be so long without any food furnished
them that many perished with hunger.  Where the bodies laid, it was
seen that they had eaten all the grass round them within their reach,
after they had lost the power of rising, or moving from their place.
3. The 2d fact was the act of a commandg officer; the 1st of several
commanding officers, & for so long a time as must suppose the
approbation of government.  But the following was the act of
government itself.  During the periods that our affairs seemed
unfavourable & theirs successful, that is to say, after the
evacuation of New York, and again after the taking of Charlestown in
South Carolina, they regularly sent our prisoners taken on the seas &
carried to England to the E. Indies.  This is so certain, that in the
month of Novemb. or Decemb. 1785, Mr. Adams having officially
demanded a delivery of the American prisoners sent to the East
Indies, Ld. Caermarthen answered officially "that orders were issued
immediately for their discharge." M. de Meusnier is at liberty to
quote this fact.  4. A fact not only of the government, but of the
parliament, who passed an act for that purpose in the beginning of
the war, was the obliging our prisoners taken at sea to join them and
fight against their countrymen.  This they effected by starving &
whipping them.  The insult on Capt. Stanhope, which happened at
Boston last year, was a consequence of this.  Two persons, Dunbar &
Lorthrope, whom Stanhope had treated in this manner (having
particularly inflicted 24 lashes on Dunbar), meeting him at Boston,
attempted to beat him.  But the people interposed & saved him.  The
fact is referred to in that paragraph of the declaration of
independance which sais "he has constrained our fellow citizens taken
captive on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to
become the executioners of their friends & brethren, or to fall
themselves by their hands." This was the most afflicting to our
prisoners of all the cruelties exercised on them.  The others
affected the body only, but this the mind -- they were haunted by the
horror of having perhaps themselves shot the ball by which a father
or a brother fell.  Some of them had constancy enough to hold out
against half allowance of food & repeated whippings.  These were
generally sent to England & from thence to the East Indies.  One of
these escaped from the East Indies and got back to Paris, where he
gave an account of his sufferings to Mr. Adams, who happened to be
then at Paris.

        M. de Meusnier, where he mentions that the slave-law has been
passed in Virginia, without the clause of emancipation, is pleased to
mention that neither Mr. Wythe nor Mr. Jefferson were present to make
the proposition they had meditated; from which people, who do not
give themselves the trouble to reflect or enquire, might conclude
hastily that their absence was the cause why the proposition was not
made; & of course that there were not in the assembly persons of
virtue & firmness enough to propose the clause for emancipation.
This supposition would not be true.  There were persons there who
wanted neither the virtue to propose, nor talents to enforce the
proposition had they seen that the disposition of the legislature was
ripe for it.  These worthy characters would feel themselves wounded,
degraded, & discouraged by this idea.  Mr.  Jefferson would therefore
be obliged to M. de Meusnier to mention it in some such manner as
this.  "Of the two commissioners who had concerted the amendatory
clause for the gradual emancipation of slaves Mr. Wythe could not be
present as being a member of the judiciary department, and Mr.
Jefferson was absent on the legation to France.  But there wanted not
in that assembly men of virtue enough to propose, & talents to
vindicate this clause.  But they saw that the moment of doing it with
success was not yet arrived, and that an unsuccessful effort, as too
often happens, would only rivet still closer the chains of bondage,
and retard the moment of delivery to this oppressed description of
men.  What a stupendous, what an incomprehensible machine is man! who
can endure toil, famine, stripes, imprisonment & death itself in
vindication of his own liberty, and the next moment be deaf to all
those motives whose power supported him thro' his trial, and inflict
on his fellow men a bondage, one hour of which is fraught with more
misery than ages of that which he rose in rebellion to oppose.  But
we must await with patience the workings of an overruling providence,
& hope that that is preparing the deliverance of these, our suffering
brethren.  When the measure of their tears shall be full, when their
groans shall have involved heaven itself in darkness, doubtless a god
of justice will awaken to their distress, and by diffusing light &
liberality among their oppressors, or at length by his exterminating
thunder, manifest his attention to the things of this world, and that
they are not left to the guidance of a blind fatality."

 
        _Thoughts on English Prosody_

        TO CHASTELLUX

        October 1786

        Among the topics of conversation which stole off like so many
minutes the few hours I had the happiness of possessing you at
Monticello, the measures of English verse was one.  I thought it
depended like Greek and Latin verse, on long and short syllables
arranged into regular feet.  You were of a different opinion.  I did
not pursue this subject after your departure, because it always
presented itself with the painful recollection of a pleasure which in
all human probability I was never to enjoy again.  This probability
like other human calculations has been set aside by events; and we
have again discussed on this side the Atlantic a subject which had
occupied us during some pleasing moments on the other.  A daily habit
of walking in the Bois de Boulogne gave me an opportunity of turning
this subject in my mind and I determined to present you my thoughts
on it in the form of a letter.  I for some time parried the
difficulties which assailed me, but at length I found they were not
to be opposed, and their triumph was complete.  Error is the stuff of
which the web of life is woven and he who lives longest and wisest is
only able to weave out the more of it.  I began with the design of
converting you to my opinion that the arrangement of long and short
syllables into regular feet constituted the harmony of English verse.
I ended by discovering that you were right in denying that
proposition.  The next object was to find out the real circumstance
which gives harmony to English poetry and laws to those who make it.
I present you with the result.  It is a tribute due to your
friendship.  It is due you also as having recalled me from an error
in my native tongue and that, too, in a point the most difficult of
all others to a foreigner, the law of its poetical numbers.

        _Thoughts on English Prosody_

        Every one knows the difference between verse and prose in his
native language; nor does he need the aid of prosody to enable him to
read or to repeat verse according to its just rhythm.  It is the
business of the poet so to arrange his words as that, repeated in
their accustomed measures they shall strike the ear with that regular
rhythm which constitutes verse.

        It is for foreigners principally that Prosody is necessary; not
knowing the accustomed measures of words, they require the aid of
rules to teach them those measures and to enable them to read verse
so as to make themselves or others sensible of its music.  I suppose
that the system of rules or exceptions which constitutes Greek and
Latin prosody, as shown with us, was unknown to those nations, and
that it has been invented by the moderns to whom those languages were
foreign.  I do not mean to affirm this, however, because you have not
searched into the history of this art, nor am I at present in a
situation which admits of that search.  By industrious examination of
the Greek and Latin verse it has been found that pronouncing certain
combinations of vowels and consonants long, and certain others short,
the actual arrangement of those long and short syllables, as found in
their verse, constitutes a rhythm which is regular and pleasing to
the ear, and that pronouncing them with any other measures, the run
is unpleasing, and ceases to produce the effect of the verse.  Hence
it is concluded and rationally enough that the Greeks and Romans
pronounced those syllables long or short in reading their verse; and
as we observe in modern languages that the syllables of words have
the same measures both in verse and prose, we ought to conclude that
they had the same also in those ancient languages, and that we must
lengthen or shorten in their prose the same syllables which we
lengthen or shorten in their verse.  Thus, if I meet with the word
_praeteritos_ in Latin prose and want to know how the Romans
pronounced it, I search for it in some poet and find it in the line
of Virgil, _"O mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos!:"_ where it
is evident that _prae_ is long and _te_ short in direct opposition to
the pronunciation which we often hear.  The length allowed to a
syllable is called its quantity, and hence we say that the Greek and
Latin languages are to be pronounced according to quantity.

        Those who have undertaken to frame a prosody for the English
language have taken quantity for their basis and have mounted the
English poetry on Greek and Latin feet.  If this foundation admits of
no question, the prosody of Doctor Johnson, built upon it, is perhaps
the best.  He comprehends under three different feet every
combination of long and short syllables which he supposes can be
found in English verse, to wit: 1. a long and a short, which is the
trochee of the Greeks and Romans; 2. a short and a long, which is
their iambus; and 3. two short and a long, which is their anapest.
And he thinks that all English verse may be resolved into these feet.

        It is true that in the English language some one syllable of a
word is always sensibly distinguished from the others by an emphasis
of pronunciation or by an accent as we call it.  But I am not
satisfied whether this accented syllable be pronounced longer,
louder, or harder, and the others shorter, lower, or softer.  I have
found the nicest ears divided on the question.  Thus in the word
_calenture_, nobody will deny that the first syllable is pronounced
more emphatically than the others; but many will deny that it is
longer in pronunciation.  In the second of the following verses of
Pope, I think there are but two short syllables.

        Oh! be thou bless'd with all that Heav'n can send
        Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend.
 
        Innumerable instances like this might be produced.  It seems,
therefore, too much to take for the basis of a system a postulatum
which one-half of mankind will deny.  But the superstructure of
Doctor Johnson's prosody may still be supported by substituting for
its basis accent instead of quantity; and nobody will deny us the
existence of accent.

        In every word of more than one syllable there is some one
syllable strongly distinguishable in pronunciation by its emphasis or
accent.

        If a word has more than two syllables it generally admits of a
subordinate emphasis or accent on the alternate syllables counting
backwards and forwards from the principal one, as in this verse of
Milton:

        Well if thrown out as supernumerary,

        where the principal accent is on _nu_, but there is a lighter
one on _su_ and _ra_ also.  There are some few instances indeed
wherein the subordinate accent is differently arranged, as
_parisyllabic_, _Constantinople_.  It is difficult, therefore, to
introduce words of this kind into verse.

        That the accent shall never be displaced from the syllable
whereon usage hath established it is the fundamental law of English
verse.

        There are but three arrangements into which these accents can
be thrown in the English language which entitled the composition to
be distinguished by the name of verse.  That is, 1. Where the accent
falls on all the odd syllables; 2. Where it falls on all the even
syllables; 3. When it falls on every third syllable.  If the reason
of this be asked, no other can be assigned but that it results from
the nature of the sounds which compose the English language and from
the construction of the human ear.  So, in the infinite gradations of
sounds from the lowest to the highest in the musical scale, those
only give pleasure to the ear which are at the intervals we call
whole tones and semitones.  The reason is that it has pleased God to
make us so.  The English poet then must so arrange his words that
their established accents shall fall regularly in one of these three
orders.  To aid him in this he has at his command the whole army of
monosyllables which in the English language is a very numerous one.
These he may accent or not, as he pleases.  Thus is this verse:

        'Tis just resentment and becomes the brave.
        -- POPE

        the monosyllable _and_ standing between two unaccented
syllables catches the accent and supports the measure.  The same
monosyllable serves to fill the interval between two accents in the
following instance:

 
        From use obscure and subtle, but to know.
        --- MILTON

        The monosyllables _with_ and _in_ receive the accent in one of
the following instances and suffer it to pass over them in the other.

        The tempted _with_ dishonor foul, supposed.
        -- MILTON

        Attempt _with_ confidence, the work is done.
        -- HOPKINS
 
        Which must be mutual _in_ proportion due.
        -- MILTON
 
        Too much of ornament _in_ outward shew.
        -- MILTON
 
        The following lines afford other proofs of this license.

        Yet, yet, I love -- from Abelard it came.
        -- POPE
 
        Flow, flow, my stream this devious way.
        -- SHENSTONE

        The Greeks and Romans in like manner had a number of syllables
which might in any situation be pronounced long or short without
offending the ear.  They had others which they could make long or
short by changing their position.  These were of great avail to the
poets.  The following is an example:

        {Pollakis o polyphame, ta / me kala / kala pe / phanlai.}
        -- THEOCRITUS
 
        {'Ages, 'Ages Brotoloige, miai phone tei chesipleta.}
        -- HOM. IL.
 
        {Metsa de tem' che theoisi, to / nd metron / estin agison.}
        -- PHOCYL

        where the word Ages, being used twice, the first syllable is
long in the first and short in the second instance, and the second is
short in the first and long in the second instance.

        But though the poets have great authority over the
monosyllables, yet it is not altogether absolute.  The following is a
proof of this:
 
        Through the dark postern of time long elaps'd.
        -- YOUNG

        It is impossible to read this without throwing the accent on
the monosyllable _of_ and yet the ear is shocked and revolts at this.

        That species of our verse wherein the accent falls on all the
odd syllables, I shall call, from that circumstance, odd or
imparisyllabic verse.  It is what has been heretofore called trochaic
verse.  To the foot which composes it, it will still be convenient
and most intelligible to retain the ancient name of Trochee, only
remembering that by that term we do not mean a long and a short
syllable, but an accented and unac-cented one.

        That verse wherein the accent is on the even syllables may be
called even or parisyllabic verse, and corresponds with what has been
called iambic verse; retaining the term iambus for the name of the
foot we shall thereby mean an unaccented and an accented syllable.

        That verse wherein the accent falls on every third syllable,
may be called trisyllabic verse; it is equivalent to what has been
called anapestic; and we will still use the term anapest to express
two unaccented and one accented syllable.

        Accent then is, I think, the basis of English verse; and it
leads us to the same threefold distribution of it to which the
hypothesis of _quantity_ had led Dr. Johnson.  While it preserves to
us the simplicity of his classification it relieves us from the
doubtfulness, if not the error, on which it was founded.
 
        OBSERVATIONS ON THE THREE MEASURES.

        Wherever a verse should regularly begin or end with an accented
syllable, that unaccented syllable may be suppressed.

        Bred on plains, or born in valleys,
                Who would bid those scenes adieu?
        Stranger to the arts of malice,
                Who would ever courts pursue?
        -- SHENSTONE

        Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!
                Confusion on thy banners wait;
        Though, fanned by Conquest's crimson wing,
                They mock the air with idle state.
        Helm, nor haulberk's twisted mail,
        Nor ev'n thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
        To save thy secret soul from nightly fears.
        From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!
        -- GRAY

        *Ye Shep* / herds! give ear / to my lay,
                *And take* no more heed of my sheep;
        They have nothing to do but to stray;
                I have nothing to do but to weep.
        -- SHENSTONE

        In the first example the unaccented syllable with which the
imparisyllabic (odd) verse should end is omitted in the second and
fourth lines.  In the second example the unaccented syllable with
which the parisyllabic (even) verse should begin is omitted in the
first and fifth lines.  In the third instance one of the unaccented
syllables with which the trisyllabic (triple) verse should begin, is
omitted in the first and second lines and in the first of the
following line both are omitted:

        Under this marble, or under this sill
        Or under this turf, or e'en what you will
        Lies one who ne'er car'd, and still cares not a pin
        What they said, or may say, of the mortal within;
        But who, living or dying, serene still and free,
        Trusts in God that as well as he was he shall be.
        -- POPE

 
        An accented syllable may be prefixed to a verse which should
regularly begin with an accent and added to one which should end with
an accent, thus:

        1. Dauntless on his native sands
        *The* dragon-son of Mona stands;
        *In* glittering arms and glory drest,
        High he rears his ruby crest.
        There the thundering strokes begin,
        There the press, and there the din;
        Talymalfra's rocky shore
        -- GRAY

        Again:

        There Confusion, Terror's child,
        Conflict fierce, and Ruin wild,
        Agony, that pants for breath,
        Despair, and honorable death.
        -- GRAY

        2. What is this world? thy school Oh! misery!
        Our only lesson is to learn to suffer;
        And he who knows not that, was born for no*thing*.
        My comfort is each moment takes away
        A grain at least from the dead load that's on *me*
        And gives a nearer prospect of the grave.
        -- YOUNG

        3. Says Richard to Thomas (and seem'd half afraid),
        "I'm thinking to marry thy mistress's maid;
        Now, because Mrs. Lucy to thee is well known,
        I will do't if thou bidst me, or let it alone."
        Said Thomas to Richard, "To speak my opin*ion*,
        There is not such a bitch in King George's domin*ion*;
        And I firmly believe, if thou knew'st her as I *do*,
        Thou wouldst choose out a whipping-post first to be tied *to*.
        She's peevish, she's thievish, she's ugly, she's old,
        And a liar, and a fool, and a slut, and a scold."

 
        Next day Richard hasten'd to church and was wed,
        And ere night had inform'd her what Thomas had said.
        -- SHENSTONE

        An accented syllable can never be either omitted or added
without changing the character of the verse.  In fact it is the
number of accented syllables which determines the length of the
verse.  That is to say, the number of feet of which it consists.

        Imparisyllabic verse being made up of Trochees should regularly
end with an unaccented syllable; and in that case if it be in rhyme
both syllables of the foot must be rhymed.  But most frequently the
unaccented syllable is omitted according to the license before
mentioned and then it suffices to rhyme the accented one.  The
following is given as a specimen of this kind of verse.

        Shepherd, wouldst thou here obtain
        Pleasure unalloy'd with pain?
        Joy that suits the rural sphere?
        Gentle shepherd, lend an ear.
 
        Learn to relish calm delight
        Verdant vales and fountains bright;
        Trees that nod o'er sloping hills,
        Caves that echo tinkling rills.
 
        If thou canst no charm disclose
        In the simplest bud that blows;
        Go, forsake thy plain and fold;
        Join the crowd, and toil for gold.

        Tranquil pleasures never cloy;
        Banish each tumultuous joy;
        All but love -- for love inspires
        Fonder wishes, warmer fires
 
        See, to sweeten thy repose,
        The blossom buds, the fountain flows;
        Lo! to crown thy healthful board,
        All that milk and fruits afford.

        Seek no more -- the rest is vain;
        Pleasure ending soon in pain:
        Anguish lightly gilded o'er;
        Close thy wish, and seek no more.
        -- SHENSTONE

        Parisyllabic verse should regularly be composed of all
iambuses; that is to say, all its even syllables should be accented.
Yet it is very common for the first foot of the line to be a trochee
as in this verse:

        Ye who e'er lost an angel, pity me!
 
        Sometimes a trochee is found in the midst of this verse.  But
this is extremely rare indeed.  The following, however, are instances
of it taken from Milton.
 
        To do ought good _never_ will be our task
        Behests obey, _worthiest_ to be obeyed.
 
        Than self-esteem, _grounded_ on just and right
        Leans the huge elephant the _wisest_ of brutes!
 
        In these instances it has not a good effect, but in the
following it has:
 
        This hand is mine -- _oh! what_ a hand is here!
        So soft, souls sink into it and are lost.

        When this trochee is placed at the beginning of a verse, if it
be not too often repeated it produces a variety in the measure which
is pleasing.  The following is a specimen of the parisyllabic verse,
wherein the instances of this trochee beginning the verse are noted:

        _Pity_ the sorrows of a poor old man,
                Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door.
        Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span;
                _Oh! give_ relief, and Heaven will bless your store.

        These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak,
        These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years
        And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
                Has been the channel to a flood of tears.

        Yon house, erected on the rising ground,
                With tempting aspect, drew me from my road;
        For plenty there a residence has found,
                And grandeur a magnificent abode.

        _Hard is_ the fate of the infirm and poor!
                Here, as I craved a morsel of their bread,
        A pamper'd menial drove me from the door,
                To seek a shelter in an humbler shed.

        _Oh! take_ me to your hospitable dome;
                _Keen blows_ the wind, and piercing is the cold;
        _Short is_ my passage to the friendly tomb,
                For I am poor, and miserably old.

        *Heaven sends* misfortunes; why should we repine!
                Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you see;
        And your condition may be soon like mine,
                The child of sorrow and of misery.
        -- MOSS

        Trisyllabic verse consists altogether of anapests, that is, of
feet made up of two unaccented and one accented syllable; and it does
not admit a mixture of any other feet.  The following is a specimen
of this kind of verse:

        I have found out a gift for my fair;
                I have found where the wood-pigeons breed;
        But let me that plunder forbear,
                She will say 'twas a barbarous deed:

        For he ne'er could be true, she averr'd,
                Who could rob a poor bird of its young;
        And I loved her the more when I heard
                Such tenderness fall from her tongue.
        -- SHENSTONE

        The following are instances of an iambus in an anapestic verse:
 
        Or under this turf, or ev'n what they will.
        -- POPE

        It never was known that circular letters.
        -- SWIFT

        They are extremely rare and are deformities, which cannot be
admitted to belong to the verse, notwithstanding the authority of the
writers from whom they are quoted.  Indeed, the pieces from which
they are taken are merely pieces of sport on which they did not mean
to rest their poetical merit.

        But to what class shall we give the following species of verse?
"God save great Washington." It is triple verse, but the accent is on
the first syllable of the foot instead of the third.  Is this an
attempt at dactylian verse? or shall we consider it still as
anapestic, wherein either the two unaccented syllables which should
begin the verse are omitted; or else the two which should end it are,
in reciting, transposed to the next verse to complete the first
anapest of that, as in Virgil in the following instance, the last
syllable of the line belongs to the next, being amalgamated with that
into one.

        I am not able to recollect another instance of this kind of
verse and a single example cannot form a class.  It is not worth
while, therefore, to provide a foreigner with a critical
investigation of its character.

        OF ELISION.

        The vowels only suffer elision except that "v" is also omitted
in the word over and "w" in will, "h" in have.  This is actually made
in most cases, as it was with the Greeks.  Sometimes, however, it is
neglected to be done, and in those cases the reader must make it for
himself, as in the following examples:

 
        Thou yet _mightest_ act the friendly part
        And lass _unnoticed_ from malignant right
        And _fallen_ to save his injur'd land
        Impatient for _it is_ past the promis'd hour.

        He _also against_ the house of God was bold
        Anguish and doubt and fear and sorr_ow_ _and_ pain
        Of Phlegma with _the_ _he_roic race was joined
        Damasco, or Maroc_co_, _or_ Trebisond
        All her _original_ brightness, nor appear'd
        _Open or_ understood must be resolv'd.
 
        OF SYNECPHONESIS.

        Diphthongs are considered as forming one syllable.  But vowels
belonging to different syllables are sometimes forced to coalesce
into a diphthong if the measure requires it.  Nor is this coalescence
prevented by the intervention of an "h," a "w" or a liquid.  In this
case the two syllables are run into one another with such rapidity as
to take but the time of one.

        The following are examples:
 
        And wish th_e_ _a_venging fight
        B_e_ _i_t so, for I submit, his doom is fair.
        When wint'ry winds deform the plent_eo_us year
        Droop'd their fair leaves, nor knew th_e_ _u_nfriendly soil
        The rad_ia_nt morn resumed her orient pride
        While born to bring the Muse's happ_ie_r days
        A patr_io_t's hand protects a poet's lays
        Ye midnight lamps, ye cur_iou_s homes
        That eagle gen_iu_s! had he let fall --

        Fair fancy wept; and ech_oi_ng sighs confest
        The sounding forest fluct_ua_tes in the storm
        Thy greatest infl_ue_nce own
        Iss_ue_ing from out the portals of the morn
        What groves nor streams bestow a virt_uou_s mind
        With man_y_ _a_ proof of recollected love.
        With kind concern our pit_yi_ng eyes o'erflow
        Lies yet a little embr_yo_ unperceiv'd --

 
        Now Marg_are_t's curse is fall'n upon our heads
        And ev_en_ _a_ Shakespeare to her fame be born
        When min_era_l fountains vainly bear
        O how self-fettered was my grov_eli_ng soul!
        To ev_ery_ sod which wraps the dead
        And beam protection on a wand_eri_ng maid
        Him or his children, ev_il_ _he_ may be sure
        Love unlibid_inou_s resigned, nor jealousy
        And left t_o_ _he_rself, if evil thence ensue.
        Big swell'd my heart and own'd the p_owe_rful maid
        Proceeding, runs low bell_owi_ng round the hills
        Thy cherishing, thy hon_ouri_ng, and thy love
        With all its shad_owy_ shapes is shown
        The shepherd's so civil y_ou_ _ha_ve nothing to fear.

        The elision of a vowel is often actually made where the
coalescence before noted be more musical.  Perhaps a vowel should
never suffer elision when it is followed by a vowel or where only an
"h," a "w" or a liquid intervenes between that and a next vowel, or
in other words there should never be an elision where synecphonesis
may take place.  Consider the following instances:

        Full of the dear ecstatic pow'r, and sick
        Dare not th' infectious sigh; thy pleading look
        While ev'ning draws her crimson curtains round
        And fright the tim'rous game
        Fills ev'ry nerve, and pants in ev'ry vein.
 
        Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick
        Dare not the infectious sigh; thy pleading look
        While evening draws her crimson curtains round
        And fright the timorous game
        Fills every nerve, and pants in every vein.

        The pronunciation in these instances with the actual elision is
less agreeable to my ear than by synecphonesis.

        OF RULES FOR THE ACCENT.

        Accent deciding the measure of English verse as quantity does
that of the Latin, and rules having been formed for teaching the
quantity of the Latins it would be expected that rules should also be
offered for indicating to foreigners the accented syllable of every
word in English.  Such rules have been attempted.  Were they to be so
completely formed as that the rules and their necessary exceptions
would reach every word in the language, they would be too great a
charge on the memory and too complicated for use either in reading or
conversation.  In the imperfect manner in which they have been
hitherto proposed they would lead into infinite errors.  It is usage
which has established the accent of every word, or rather I might say
it has been caprice or chance, for nothing can be more arbitrary or
less consistent.  I am of opinion it is easier for a foreigner to
learn the accent of every word individually, than the rules which
would teach it.  This his dictionary will teach him, if, when he
recurs to it for the meaning of a word, he will recollect that he
should notice also on which syllable is its accent.  Or he may learn
the accent by reading poetry, which differs our language from Greek
and Latin, wherein you must learn their prosody in order to read
their poetry.  Knowing that with us the accent is on every odd
syllable or on every even one or on every third, he has only to
examine of which of these measures the verse is to be able to read it
correctly.  But how shall he distinguish the measure to which the
verse belongs?

        If he can find in the piece any one word the accent of which he
already knows, that word will enable him to distinguish if it be
parisyllabic or imparisyllabic.  Let us suppose, for example, he
would read the following piece:
 
        How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
        By all their country's wishes blest!
        When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
        Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
        She there shall dress a _sweeter_ sod
        Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
 
        By fairy hands their knell is rung;
        By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
        There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
        To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
        And Freedom shall a while repair,
        To dwell a weeping hermit there!
        -- COLLINS

        He finds the word _sweeter_, the accent of which he has already
learned to be on the first syllable, sweet.  He observes that that is
an even syllable, being the sixth of the line.  He knows then that it
is parisyllabic verse and from that he can accent the whole piece.
If he does not already know the accent of a single word he must look
in his dictionary for some one, and that will be a key to the whole
piece.  He should take care not to rely on the first foot of any
line, because, as has been before observed, that is often a trochee
even in the parisyllabic verse.  Without consulting his dictionary at
all, or knowing a single accent, the following observation will
enable him to distinguish between these two species of verse when
they are in rhyme.  An odd number of syllables with a single rhyme,
or an even number with a double rhyme, prove the verse to be
imparisyllabic.  An even number of syllables with a single rhyme, or
an odd number with a double one, prove it to be parisyllabic, _e_.
_g_.:

        Learn by this unguarded lover
                When your secret sighs prevail
        Not to let your tongue discover
                Raptures that you should conceal.
        -- CUNNINGHAM

        He sung and hell consented
                To hear the poet's prayer
        Stern Proserpine relented
                And gave him back the fair.
        -- POPE

        If in thus examining the seat of the accent he finds it is
alternately on an odd and an even syllable, that is to say, on the
third, sixth, ninth, twelfth syllables, the verse is trisyllabic.

        With her how I stray'd amid fountains and bowers!
        Or loiter'd behind, and collected the flowers!
        Then breathless with arduor my fair one pursued,
        And to think with what kindness my garland she view'd!
        But be still, my fond heart! this emotion give o'er;
        Fain wouldst thou forget thou must love her no more.
        -- SHENSTONE

        It must be stated that in this kind of verse we should count
backward from the last syllable, if it be a single rhyme, or the last
but one if it be double; because one of the unaccented syllables
which should begin the verse is so often omitted.  This last syllable
in the preceding example should be the twelfth.  When the line is
full it is accented of course.  Consulting the dictionary, therefore,
we find in the first line the ninth syllable accented; in the second,
the sixth; in the third line the accented syllables there being
alternately odd and even, to wit, the third, sixth, ninth and
twelfth, we know the verse must be trisyllabic.

        The foreigner then first determining the measure of the verse,
may read it boldly.  He will commit a few errors, indeed; let us see
what they are likely to be.  In imparisyllabic verse none, because
that consists of trochees invariably; if an unaccented syllable
happens to be prefixed to the verse, he will discover it by the
number of syllables.  In parisyllabic verse, when a trochee begins
the verse, he will pronounce that foot wrong.  This will perhaps
happen once in ten lines; in some authors more, in others less.  In
like manner he will pronounce wrong the trochee in the middle of the
line.  But this he will encounter once in some hundreds of times.  In
the trisyllabic verse he can never commit an error if he counts from
the end of the line.  These imperfections are as few as a foreigner
can possibly expect in the beginning; and he will reduce their number
in proportion as he acquires by practice a knowledge of the accents.

        The subject of accent cannot be quitted till we apprise him of
another imperfection which will show itself in his reading, and which
will be longer removing.  Though there be accents on the first, the
second or the third syllables of the foot, as has been before
explained, yet is there subordination among these accents, a
modulation in their tone of which it is impossible to give a precise
idea in writing.  This is intimately connected with the sense; and
though a foreigner will readily find to what words that would give
distinguished emphasis, yet nothing but habit can enable him to give
actually the different shades of emphasis which his judgment would
dictate to him.  Even natives have very different powers as to this
article.  This difference exists both in the organ and the judgment.
Foote is known to have read Milton so exquisitely that he received
great sums of money for reading him to audiences who attended him
regularly for that purpose.  This difference, too, enters deeply into
the merit of theatrical actors.  The foreigner, therefore, must
acquiesce under a want of perfection which is the lot of natives in
common with himself.

        We will proceed to give examples which may explain what is here
meant, distinguishing the accents into four shades by these marks
'''' ''' '' ' the greater number of marks denoting the strongest
accents.

        Oh when the growling winds contend and all
        The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm
        To sink in warm repose, and hear the din
        Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights
        Above the luxury of vulgar sleep.
        -- ARMSTRONG
 
        Life's cares are comforts; such by heav'n design'd
        He that has none, must make them or be wretched
        Cares are employments; and without employ
        The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest.
        -- YOUNG
 
        O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought,
        Lost to the noble sallies of the soul!
        Who think it solitude, to be alone.
        Communion sweet! communion large and high!
        Our reason, guardian angel, and our God!
        Then nearest these, when others most remote;
        And all, ere long, shall be remote, but these.
        -- YOUNG
 
        By nature's law, what may be, may be now;
        There's no prerogative in human hours.
        In human hearts what bolder thought can rise,
        Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
        Where is to-morrow?  In another world.
        For numbers this is certain; the reverse
        Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
        This peradventure, infamous for lies,
        As on a rock of adamant, we build
        Our mountain hopes; spin out eternal schemes.
        As we the fatal sisters could outspin,
        And, big with life's futurities, expire.
        -- YOUNG
 
        Cowards die many times before their deaths:
        The valiant never taste of death but once.
        Of all the wonders that I yet have heard,
        It seems to me most strange that men should fear,
        Seeing that death, a necessary end,
        Will come when it will come.
 
        I cannot tell what you and other men
        Think of this life, but for my single self,
        I had as lief not be as live to be
        In awe of such a thing as I myself.
        I was born free as Caesar, so were you;
        We both have fed as well, and we can both
        Endure the winter's cold as well as he.
 
        The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
        The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
        Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
        And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
        Leave not a rack behind.

        I am far from presuming to give this accentuation as perfect.
No two persons will accent the same passage alike.  No person but a
real adept would accent it twice alike.  Perhaps two real adepts who
should utter the same passage with infinite perfection yet by
throwing the energy into different words might produce very different
effects.  I suppose that in those passages of Shakespeare, for
example, no man but Garrick ever drew their full tone out of them, if
I may borrow an expression from music.  Let those who are disposed to
criticise, therefore, try a few experiments themselves.  I have
essayed these short passages to let the foreigner see that the accent
is not equal; that they are not to be read monotonously.  I chose,
too, the most pregnant passages, those wherein every word teems with
latent meaning, that he might form an idea of the degrees of
excellence of which this art is capable.  He must not apprehend that
all poets present the same difficulty.  It is only the most brilliant
passages.  The great mass, even of good poetry, is easily enough
read.  Take the following examples, wherein little differences in the
enunciation will not change the meaning sensibly.

        Here, in cool grot and mossy cell,
        We rural fays and faeries dwell;
        Though rarely seen by mortal eye,
        When the pale Moon, ascending high,
        Darts through yon lines her quivering beams,
        We frisk it near these crystal streams.

        Her beams, reflected from the wave,
        Afford the light our revels crave;
        The turf, with daisies broider'd o'er,
        Exceeds, we wot, the Parian floor;
        Nor yet for artful strains we call,
        But listen to the water's fall.
 
        Would you then taste our tranquil scene,
        Be sure your bosoms be serene:
        Devoid of hate, devoid of strife,
        Devoid of all that poisons life:
        And much it 'vails you, in their place
        To graft the love of human race.
 
        And tread with awe these favor'd bowers,
        Nor wound the shrubs, nor bruise the flowers;
        So may your path with sweets abound;
        So may your couch with rest be crown'd!
        But harm betide the wayward swain,
        Who dares our hallow'd haunts profane!
        -- SHENSTONE
 
        To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
        Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
        Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom,
        And rifle all the breathing Spring.
 
        No wailing ghost shall dare appear
        To vex with shrieks this quiet grove,
        But shepherd lads assemble here,
        And melting virgins own their love.
 
        No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
        No goblins lead their nightly crew;
        The female fays shall haunt the green,
        And dress thy grave with pearly dew;
 
        The red-breast oft at evening hours
        Shall kindly lend his little aid,
        With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
        To deck the ground where thou art laid.
 
        When howling winds, and beating rain,
        In tempests shake thy sylvan cell;
        Or 'midst the chase on every plain,
        The tender thought on thee shall dwell.
 
        Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
        For thee the tear be duly shed;
        Belov'd, till life can charm no more
        And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
        -- COLLINS
 
        OF THE LENGTH OF VERSE
 
        Having spoken of feet which are only the constituent part of
verse, it becomes necessary to say something of its larger divisions,
and even of the verse itself.  For what is a verse?  This question
naturally occurs, and it is not sufficiently answered by saying it is
a whole line.  Should the printer think proper to print the following
passage in this manner:
 
         {Os eipon oy paidos orezato phaidimos Ektor. aps d' o pais
pros kolpon eyzonoio tithenes eklinthe iachon, patros philoy opsin
atychtheis, tarbesas chalkon te ide lophon ippiochaiten, deinon ap
akrotates korythos neyonta noesas ek d' egelasse pater te philos kai
potnia meter. aytik' apo kratos koryth' eileto phaidimos Ektor, kai
ten men katetheken epi chthoni pamphanoosan aytar o g' on philon yion
epei kyse pele te chersin, eipen epeyxamenos Dii t' alloisin te
theoisi Zey alloi te theoi, dote de kai tonde genesthai paid' emon,
os kai ego per, ariprepea Troessin, ode bien t' agathon kai 'Ilioy
iphi anassein kai pote tis eipoi, 'patros g' ode pollon ameinon' ek
polemoy anionta pheroi d' enara brotoenta kteinas deion andra,
chareie de frena meter. Os eipon alochoio philes en chersin etheke
paid' eon e d' ara min keodei dexato kolpo dakryoen gelasasa posis d'
eleese noesas, cheiri te min katerexen epos t' ephat' ek t' onomaze}

        it would still be verse; it would still immortalize its author
were every other syllable of his compositions lost.  The poet then
does not depend on the printer to give a character to his work.  He
has studied the human ear.  He has discovered that in any rhythmical
composition the ear is pleased to find at certain regular intervals a
pause where it may rest, by which it may divide the composition into
parts, as a piece of music is divided into bars.  He contrives to
mark this division by a pause in the sense or at least by an
emphatical word which may force the pause so that the ear may feel
the regular return of the pause.  The interval then between these
regular pauses constitutes a verse.  In the morsel before cited this
interval comprehends six feet, and though it is written in the manner
of prose, yet he who can read it without pausing at every sixth foot,
like him who is insensible to the charm of music, who is insensible
of love or of gratitude, is an unfavored son of nature to whom she
has given a faculty fewer than to others of her children, one source
of pleasure the less in a world where there are none to spare.  A
well-organized ear makes the pause regularly whether it be printed as
verse or as prose.  But not only the organization of the ear but the
character of the language have influence in determining the length of
the verse.  Otherwise the constitution of the ear being the same with
all nations the verse would be of the same length in all languages,
which is not the case.  But the difference in language occasions the
ear to be pleased with a difference of interval in the pause.  The
language of Homer enabled him to compose in verse of six feet; the
English language cannot bear this.  They may be of one, two, three,
four, or five feet, as in the following examples:

        One foot.

        Turning
        Burning
        Changing
        Ranging
        I mourn
        I sigh
        I burn
        I die
        Let us part --
        Let us part
        Will you break
        My poor heart?

        Two feet.
 
                 Flow'ry mountains
        Mossy fountains
        Shady woods
        Crystal floods
        To me the rose
        No longer glows
        Ev'ry plant
        Has lost its scent.
 
        Prithee Cupid no more
        Hurl thy darts at threescore
        To thy girls and thy boys
        Give thy pains and thy joys.
 
 
        Three feet.
 
        Farewell fear and sorrow
        Pleasure till to-morrow.
 
        Yes, ev'ry flow'r that blows
        I passed unheeded by
        Till this enchanting rose
        Had fix'd my wand'ring eye.
        -- CUNNINGHAM
 
        The rose though a beautiful red
                Looks faded to Phyllis's bloom;
        And the breeze from the bean-flower bed
                To her breath's but a feeble perfume;
        A lily I plucked in full pride
                Its freshness with hers to compare,
        And foolishly thought till I try'd
                The flow'ret was equally fair.
        -- CUNNINGHAM

        Four feet.

        From the dark tremendous cell
        Where the fiends of magic dwell
        Now the sun hath left the skies
        Daughters of Enchantment, rise!
        -- CUNNINGHAM

        Come Hope, and to my pensive eye
        Thy far foreseeing tube apply
        Whose kind deception steals us o'er
        The gloomy waste that lies before.
        -- LANGHORNE

        `Mongst lords and fine ladies we shepherds are told
        The dearest affections are barter'd for gold
        That discord in wedlock is often their lot
        While Cupid and Hymen shake hands in a cot.
        -- CUNNINGHAM

        Here the parisyllabic alone bears one foot more.

 
        Oh liberty! thou goddess heav'nly bright
        Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight,
        Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign,
        And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train;
        Eas'd of her load subjection grows more light,
        And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight;
        Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay
        Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
        -- ADDISON

         The last line furnishes an instance of six feet, usually called an
Alexandrian; but no piece is ever wholly in that measure.  A single line only
is tolerated now and then, and is never a beauty.  Formerly it was thought
that the language bore lines of seven feet in length, as in the following:

         `Tis he whose ev'ry thought and deed by rules of virtue
           moves;
         Whose gen'rous tongue disdains to speak the thing his heart
           disproves
         Who never did a slander forge his neighbor's fame to
           wound;
         Nor listen to a false report by malice whisper'd round.
                                         -- PSALM 15

        But a little attention shows that there is as regular a pause
at the fourth foot as at the seventh, and as verse takes its
denomination from the shortest regular intervals, this is no more
than an alternate verse of four and of three feet.  It is, therefore,
usually written as in the following stanzas of the same piece:

        Who to his plighted vows and trust
                Has ever firmly stood
        And, though he promise to his loss,
                He makes his promise good.

        The man who by this steady course
                Has happiness ensur'd
        When earth's foundations shake, will stand
                By Providence secur'd.

 
        We may justly consider, therefore, verses of five feet as the
longest the language sustains, and it is remarkable that not only
this length, though the extreme, is generally the most esteemed, but
that it is the only one which has dignity enough to support blank
verse, that is, verse without rhyme.  This is attempted in no other
measure.  It constitutes, therefore, the most precious part of our
poetry.  The poet, unfettered by rhyme, is at liberty to prune his
diction of those tautologies, those feeble nothings necessary to
introtrude the rhyming word.  With no other trammel than that of
measure he is able to condense his thoughts and images and to leave
nothing but what is truly poetical.  When enveloped in all the pomp
and majesty of his subject he sometimes even throws off the restraint
of the regular pause:

        Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit
        Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
        Brought death into the world, and all our woe,
        With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
        Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
        Sing, heavenly Muse! that on the sacred top
        Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
        That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,
        In the beginning, how the Heavens and Earth
        Rose out of Chaos.
 
        Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand
        He took the golden compasses, prepared
        In God's eternal store, to circumscribe
        This universe, and all created things
        One foot he centred, and the other turn'd
        Round, through the vast profundity obscure
        And said, "Thus far extend."

        There are but two regular pauses in this whole passage of seven
verses.  They are constantly drowned by the majesty of the rhythm and
sense.  But nothing less than this can authorize such a license.
Take the following proof from the same author:

 
        Again, God said, "Let there be firmament
        Amid the waters, and let it divide
        The waters from the waters;" and God made
        The firmament.
        -- MILTON 7:261

        And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the
waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.  And God made
the firmament.
        -- GENESIS 1:6

        I have here placed Moses and Milton side by side, that he who
can may distinguish which verse belongs to the poet.  To do this he
will not have the aid either of the sentiment, diction or measure of
poetry.  The original is so servilely copied that though it be cut
into pieces of ten syllables, no pause is marked between these
portions.

        What proves the excellence of blank verse is that the taste
lasts longer than that for rhyme.  The fondness for the jingle leaves
us with that for the rattles and baubles of childhood, and if we
continue to read rhymed verse at a later period of life it is such
only where the poet has had force enough to bring great beauties of
thought and diction into this form.  When young any composition
pleases which unites a little sense, some imagination, and some
rhythm, in doses however small.  But as we advance in life these
things fall off one by one, and I suspect we are left at last with
only Homer and Virgil, perhaps with Homer alone.  He like

        Hope travels on nor quits us when we die.

        Having noted the different lengths of line which the English
poet may give to his verse it must be further observed that he may
intermingle these in the same verse according to his fancy.

        The following are selected as examples:
 
        A tear bedews my Delia's eye,
        To think yon playful kid must die;
        From crystal spring, and flowery mead,
        Must, in his prime of life, recede!

 
        She tells with what delight he stood,
        To trace his features in the flood;
        Then skipp'd aloof with quaint amaze,
        And then drew near again to gaze.
        -- SHENSTONE

        Full many a gem of purest ray serene
                The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;
        Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
                And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

        Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast,
                The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
        Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,
                Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood.
        -- GRAY

        There shall my plaintive song recount
                Dark themes of hopeless woe,
        And faster than the drooping fount
                I'll teach mine eyes to flow.

        There leaves, in spite of Autumn green
                Shall shade the hallow'd ground,
        And Spring will there again be seen
                To call forth flowers around.
        -- SHENSTONE

        O Health! capricious maid!
                Why dost thou shun my peaceful bower,
                Where I had hope to share thy power,
        And bless thy lasting aid?
        -- SHENSTONE

        The man whose mind, on virtue bent
        Pursues some greatly good intent
                With undivided aim
        Serene beholds the angry crowd
        Nor can their clamors fierce and loud
                His stubborn purpose tame.

 
        Ye gentle Bards! give ear,
                Who talk of amorous rage,
        Who spoil the lily, rob the rose,
        Come learn of me to weep your woes:
        "O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!"
        -- SHENSTONE

        Too long a stranger to repose,
        At length from Pain's abhorred couch I rose
                And wander'd forth alone,
        To court once more the balmy breeze,
        And catch the verdure of the trees,
                Ere yet their charms were flown.
        -- SHENSTONE

        O thou, by Nature taught
        To breathe her genuine thought,
        In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;
        Who first, on mountains wild,
        In Fancy, loveliest child,
        Thy babe, and Pleasure's, nursed the powers of song!
        -- COLLINS

        'Twas in a land of learning,
        The Muse's favorite city,
        Such pranks of late
        Were play'd by a rat,
        As -- tempt one to be witty.
        -- SHENSTONE

        Yet stay, O stay! celestial Pow'rs!
                And with a hand of kind regard
        Dispel the boisterous storm that low'rs
                Destruction on the fav'rite bard;
        O watch with me his last expiring breath
        And snatch him from the arms of dark oblivious death.
        -- GRAY

        What is grandeur, what is power?
        Heavier toil, superior pain.
        What the bright reward we gain?
        The grateful memory of the good.
        Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,
        The bee's collected treasures sweet,
        Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet
        The still small voice of gratitude.
 
        Methinks I hear, in accents low,
        The sportive, kind reply:
        Poor moralist! and what art thou?
        A solitary fly!
        Thy joys no glittering female meets,
        No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
        No painted plumage to display;
        On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
        Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone --
        We frolic while 'tis May.
        -- GRAY

        Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;
        Or find some ruin, 'midst its dreary dells,
                Whose walls more awful nod
                By thy religious gleams.

        Or, if chill blustering winds, or driving rain,
        Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut,
                That, from the mountain's side,
                Views wilds, and swelling floods.
        -- COLLINS

        Though the license to intermingle the different measures admits
an infinitude of combinations, yet this becomes less and less
pleasing in proportion as they depart from that simplicity and
regularity of which the ear is most sensible.  When these are wholly
or nearly neglected, as in the lyric pieces, the poet renounces one
of the most fascinating charms of his art.  He must then look well to
his matter and supply in sublimity or other beauties the loss of
regular measure.  In effect these pieces are seldom read twice.

 
 

        TRAVEL JOURNALS
 
        _A Tour to some of the Gardens of England_

        _[Memorandums made on a tour to some of the gardens in England,
described by Whateley in his book on gardening.]_ While his
descriptions, in point of style, are models of perfect elegance and
classical correctness, they are as remarkable for their exactness. I
always walked over the gardens with his book in my hand, examined
with attention the particular spots he described, found them so
justly characterized by him as to be easily recognized, and saw with
wonder, that his fine imagination had never been able to seduce him
from the truth. My inquiries were directed chiefly to such practical
things as might enable me to estimate the expense of making and
maintaining a garden in that style. My journey was in the months of
March and April, 1786.

        _Chiswick._ -- Belongs to Duke of Devonshire. A garden about
six acres; -- the octagonal dome has an ill effect, both within and
without: the garden shows still too much of art. An obelisk of very
ill effect; another in the middle of a pond useless.

        _Hampton-Court._ -- Old fashioned. Clipt yews grown wild.

        _Twickenham._ -- Pope's original garden, three and a half
acres. Sir Wm. Stanhope added one and a half acre. This is a long
narrow slip, grass and trees in the middle, walk all round. Now Sir
Wellbore Ellis's. Obelisk at bottom of Pope's garden, as monument to
his mother. Inscription, "Ah! Editha, matrum optima, mulierum
amantissima, Vale." The house about thirty yards from the Thames: the
ground shelves gently to the water side; on the back of the house
passes the street, and beyond that the garden.  The grotto is under
the street, and goes out level to the water.  In the centre of the
garden a mound with a spiral walk round it.  A rookery.

        _Esher-Place._ -- The house in a bottom near the river; on the
other side the ground rises pretty much.  The road by which we come
to the house forms a dividing line in the middle of the front; on the
right are heights, rising one beyond and above another, with clumps
of trees; on the farthest a temple.  A hollow filled up with a clump
of trees, the tallest in the bottom, so that the top is quite flat.
On the left the ground descends.  Clumps of trees, the clumps on each
hand balance finely -- most lovely mixture of concave and convex.
The garden is of about forty-five acres, besides the park which
joins.  Belongs to Lady Frances Pelham.

        _Claremont._ -- Lord Clive's.  Nothing remarkable.

        _Paynshill._ -- Mr. Hopkins.  Three hundred and twenty-three
acres, garden and park all in one.  Well described by Whateley.
Grotto said to have cost pound 7,000.  Whateley says one of the
bridges is of stone, but both now are of wood, the lower sixty feet
high: there is too much evergreen.  The dwelling-house built by
Hopkins, ill-situated: he has not been there in five years.  He lived
there four years while building the present house.  It is not
finished; its architecture is incorrect.  A Doric temple, beautiful.

        _Woburn._ -- Belongs to Lord Peters.  Lord Loughborough is the
present tenant for two lives.  Four people to the farm, four to the
pleasure garden, four to the kitchen garden.  All are intermixed, the
pleasure garden being merely a highly-ornamented walk through and
round the divisions of the farm and kitchen garden.

        _Caversham._ -- Sold by Lord Cadogan to Major Marsac.
Twenty-five acres of garden, four hundred acres of park, six acres of
kitchen garden.  A large lawn, separated by a sunk fence from the
garden, appears to be part of it.  A straight, broad gravel walk
passes before the front and parallel to it, terminated on the right
by a Doric temple, and opening at the other end on a fine prospect.
This straight walk has an ill effect.  The lawn in front, which is
pasture, well disposed with clumps of trees.

        _Wotton._ -- Now belongs to the Marquis of Buckingham, son of
George Grenville.  The lake covers fifty acres, the river five acres,
the basin fifteen acres, the little river two acres -- equal to
seventy-two acres of water.  The lake and great river are on a level,
they fall into the basin five feet below, and that again into the
little river five feet lower.  These waters lie in form of an xxx:
the house is in middle of open side, fronting the angle.  A walk goes
round the whole, three miles in circumference, and containing within
it about three hundred acres: sometimes it passes close to the water,
sometimes so far off as to leave large pasture grounds between it and
the water.  But two hands to keep the pleasure grounds in order; much
neglected.  The water affords two thousand brace of carp a year.
There is a Palladian bridge, of which, I think, Whateley does not
speak.

        _Stowe._ -- Belongs to the Marquis of Buckingham, son of George
Grenville, and who takes it from Lord Temple.  Fifteen men and
eighteen boys employed in keeping pleasure grounds.  Within the walk
are considerable portions separated by inclosures and used for
pasture.  The Egyptian pyramid is almost entirely taken down by the
late Lord Temple, to erect a building there, in commemoration of Mr.
Pitt, but he died before beginning it, and nothing is done to it yet.
The grotto and two rotundas are taken away.  There are four levels of
water, receiving it one from the other.  The basin contains seven
acres, the lake below that ten acres.  Kent's building is called the
temple of Venus.  The inclosure is entirely by ha-ha.  At each end of
the front line there is a recess like the bastion of a fort.  In one
of these is the temple of Friendship, in the other the temple of
Venus.  They are seen the one from the other, the line of sight
passing, not through the garden, but through the country parallel to
the line of the garden.  This has a good effect.  In the approach to
Stowe, you are brought a mile through a straight avenue, pointing to
the Corinthian arch and to the house, till you get to the arch, then
you turn short to the right.  The straight approach is very ill.  The
Corinthian arch has a very useless appearance, inasmuch as it has no
pretension to any destination.  Instead of being an object from the
house, it is an obstacle to a very pleasing distant prospect.  The
Grecian valley being clear of trees, while the hill on each side is
covered with them, is much deepened to appearance.

        _Leasowes, in Shropshire._ -- Now the property of Mr. Horne by
purchase.  One hundred and fifty acres within the walk.  The waters
small.  This is not even an ornamented farm -- it is only a grazing
farm with a path round it, here and there a seat of board, rarely
anything better.  Architecture has contributed nothing.  The obelisk
is of brick.  Shenstone had but three hundred pounds a year, and
ruined himself by what he did to this farm.  It is said that he died
of the heart-aches which his debts occasioned him.  The part next the
road is of red earth, that on the further part gray.  The first and
second cascades are beautiful.  The landscape at number eighteen, and
prospect at thirty-two, are fine.  The walk through the wood is
umbrageous and pleasing.  The whole arch of prospect may be of ninety
degrees.  Many of the inscriptions are lost.

        _Hagley, now Lord Wescot's._ -- One thousand acres: no
distinction between park and garden -- both blended, but more of the
character of garden.  Eight or nine laborers keep it in order.
Between two and three hundred deer in it, some few of them red deer.
They breed sometimes with the fallow.  This garden occupying a
descending hollow between the Clent and Witchbury hills, with the
spurs from those hills, there is no level in it for a spacious water.
There are, therefore, only some small ponds.  From one of these there
is a fine cascade; but it can only be occasionally, by opening the
sluice.  This is in a small, dark, deep hollow, with recesses of
stone in the banks on every side.  In one of these is a Venus
predique, turned half round as if inviting you with her into the
recess.  There is another cascade seen from the portico on the
bridge.  The castle is triangular, with a round tower at each angle,
one only entire; it seems to be between forty and fifty feet high.
The ponds yield a great deal of trout.  The walks are scarcely
gravelled.

        _Blenheim._ -- Twenty-five hundred acres, of which two hundred
is garden, one hundred and fifty water, twelve kitchen garden, and
the rest park.  Two hundred people employed to keep it in order, and
to make alterations and additions.  About fifty of these employed in
pleasure grounds.  The turf is mowed once in ten days.  In summer,
about two thousand fallow deer in the park, and two or three thousand
sheep.  The palace of Henry II. was remaining till taken down by
Sarah, widow of the first Duke of Marlborough.  It was on a round
spot levelled by art, near what is now water, and but a little above
it.  The island was a part of the high road leading to the palace.
Rosamond's bower was near where is now a little grove, about two
hundred yards from the palace.  The well is near where the bower was.
The water here is very beautiful, and very grand.  The cascade from
the lake, a fine one; except this the garden has no great beauties.
It is not laid out in fine lawns and woods, but the trees are
scattered thinly over the ground, and every here and there small
thickets of shrubs, in oval raised beds, cultivated, and flowers
among the shrubs.  The gravelled walks are broad -- art appears too
much.  There are but a few seats in it, and nothing of architecture
more dignified.  There is no one striking position in it.  There has
been a great addition to the length of the river since Whateley
wrote.

        _Enfield Chase._ -- One of the four lodges.  Garden about sixty
acres.  Originally by Lord Chatham, now in the tenure of Dr. Beaver,
who married the daughter of Mr. Sharpe.  The lease lately renewed --
not in good repair.  The water very fine; would admit of great
improvement by extending walks, &c., to the principal water at the
bottom of the lawn.

        _Moor Park._ -- The lawn about thirty acres.  A piece of ground
up the hill of six acres.  A small lake.  Clumps of spruce firs.
Surrounded by walk -- separately inclosed -- destroys unity.  The
property of Mr. Rous, who bought of Sir Thomas Dundas.  The building
superb; the principal front a Corinthian portico of four columns; in
front of the wings a colonnade, Ionic, subordinate.  Back front a
terrace, four Corinthian pilasters.  Pulling down wings of building;
removing deer; wants water.

        _Kew._ -- Archimedes' screw for raising water.  A horizontal
shaft made to turn the oblique one of the screw by a patent machinery
of this form:

        _The pieces separate._

        A is driven by its shank into the horizontal axis of the wheel
which turns the machine.

 
        B is an intermediate iron to connect the motion of A and C.

        C is driven by its shank into the axis of the screw.

        D is a cross axis, the ends, _a_ and _b_, going into the
corresponding holes _a_ and _b_ of the iron A, and the ends, _c_ and
_d_, going into the corresponding holes _c_ and _d_ of the iron B.

        E is another cross axis, the ends, _e_ and _f_, going into the
corresponding holes _e_ and _f_ of the iron B, and the ends, _g_ and
_h_, going into the corresponding holes _g_ and _h_ of the iron C.

        _Memorandums on a Tour from Paris to Amsterdam, Strasburg, and
back to Paris_

        March 3, 1788

        _Amsterdam._ -- Joists of houses placed, not with their sides
horizontally and perpendicularly, but diamond wise, thus: xxx first,
for greater strength; second, to arch between with brick, thus: xxx
Windows opening so that they admit air and not rain.  The upper sash
opens on a horizontal axis, or pins in the centre of the sides, the
lower sash slides up xxx.

        Manner of fixing a flag staff on the mast of a vessel: _a_ is
the bolt on which it turns; _b_ a bolt which is taken in and out to
fasten it or to let it down.  When taken out, the lower end of the
staff is shoved out of its case, and the upper end being heaviest
brings itself down: a rope must have been previously fastened to the
butt end, to pull it down again when you want to raise the flag end.
Dining tables letting down with single or double leaves, so as to
take the room of their thickness only with a single leaf when open,
thus: xxx or thus: xxx double-leaves open: xxx shut, thus: xxx or
thus: xxx shut: xxx

        Peat costs about one doit each, or twelve and a half stivers
the hundred.  One hundred make seven cubic feet, and to keep a
tolerably comfortable fire for a study or chamber, takes about six
every hour and a half.

        A machine for drawing light _empty_ boats over a dam at
Amsterdam.  It is an axis in peritrochio fixed on the dam.  From the
dam each way is a sloping stage, the boat is presented to this, the
rope of the axis made fast to it, and it is drawn up.  The water on
one side of the dam is about four feet higher than on the other.

        The camels used for lightening ships over the Pampus will raise
the ships eight feet.  There are beams passing through the ship's
sides, projecting to the off side of the camel and resting on it; of
course that alone would keep the camel close to the ship.  Besides
this, there are a great number of windlasses on the camels, the ropes
of which are made fast to the gunwale of the ship.  The camel is
shaped to the ship on the near side, and straight on the off one.
When placed along side, water is let into it so as nearly to sink it;
in this state it receives the beams, &c., of the ship, and then the
water is pumped out.

        Wind saw mills.  See the plans detailed in the moolen book
which I bought.  A circular foundation of brick is raised about three
or four feet high, and covered with a curb or sill of wood, and has
little rollers under its sill which make it turn easily on the curb.
A hanging bridge projects at each end about fifteen or twenty feet
beyond the circular area, thus: (illustration omitted) horizontally,
and thus: (illustration omitted) in the profile to increase the play
of the timbers on the frame.  The wings are at one side, as at _a_;
there is a shelter over the hanging bridges, but of plank with scarce
any frame, very light.

        A bridge across a canal formed by two scows, which open each to
the opposite shore and let boats pass.

        A lanthern over the street door, which gives light equally into
the antechamber and the street.  It is a hexagon, and occupies the
place of the middle pane of glass in the circular top of the street
door.

        A bridge on a canal, turning on a swivel, by which means it is
arranged along the side of the canal so as not to be in the way of
boats when not in use.  When used, it is turned across the canal.  It
is, of course, a little more than double the width of the canal.

        Hedges of beach, which, not losing the old leaf till the new
bud pushes it off, has the effect of an evergreen as to cover.

        Mr. Ameshoff, merchant at Amsterdam.  The distribution of his
aviary is worthy of notice.  Each kind of the large birds has its
coop eight feet wide and four feet deep; the middle of the front is
occupied by a broad glass window, on one side of which is a door for
the keeper to enter at, and on the other a little trap-door for the
birds to pass in and out.  The floor strewed with clean hay.  Before
each coop is a court of eight by sixteen feet, with wire in front and
netting above, if the fowls be able to fly.  For such as require it,
there are bushes of evergreen growing in their court for them to lay
their eggs under.  The coops are frequently divided into two stories:
the upper for those birds which perch, such as pigeons, &c., the
lower for those which feed on the ground, as pheasants, partridges,
&c.  The court is in common for both stories, because the birds do no
injury to each other.  For the water-fowl there is a pond of water
passing through the courts, with a movable separation.  While they
are breeding they must be separate, afterwards they may come
together.  The small birds are some of them in a common aviary, and
some in cages.

        The Dutch wheel-barrow is in this form: (illustration omitted)
which is very convenient for loading and unloading.

        Mr. Hermen Hend Damen, merchant-broker of Amsterdam, tells me
that the emigrants to America come from the Palatinate down the
Rhine, and take shipping from Amsterdam.  Their passage is ten
guineas if paid here, and eleven if paid in America.  He says they
might be had in any number to go to America, and settle lands as
tenants on half stocks or metairies.  Perhaps they would serve their
employer one year as an indemnification for the passage, and then be
bound to remain on his lands seven years.  They would come to
Amsterdam at their own expense.  He thinks they would employ more
than fifty acres each; but _quaere_, especially if they have fifty
acres for their wife also?

        _Hodson._ -- The best house.  Stadhonderian, his son, in the
government.  Friendly, but old and very infirm.

        _Hope._ -- The first house in Amsterdam.  His first object
England; but it is supposed he would like to have the American
business also, yet he would probably make our affairs subordinate to
those of England.

        _Vollenhoven._ -- An excellent old house; connected with no
party.

        _Sapportus._ -- A broker, very honest and ingenuous,
well-disposed; acts for Hope, but will say with truth what he can do
for us.  The best person to consult with as to the best house to
undertake a piece of business.  He has brothers in London in
business.  Jacob Van Staphorst tells me there are about fourteen
millions of florins, new money, placed in loans in Holland every
year, being the savings of individuals out of their annual revenue,
&c.  Besides this, there are every year reimbursements of old loans
from some quarter or other to be replaced at interest in some new
loan.

        1788. March 16th.  Baron Steuben has been generally suspected
of having suggested the first idea of the self-styled Order of
Cincinnati.  But Mr. Adams tells me, that in the year 1776 he had
called at a tavern in the State of New York to dine, just at the
moment when the British army was landing at Frog's Neck.  Generals
Washington, Lee, Knox and Parsons, came to the same tavern.  He got
into conversation with Knox.  They talked of ancient history -- of
Fabius, who used to raise the Romans from the dust; of the present
contest, &c.; and General Knox, in the course of the conversation,
said he should wish for some ribbon to wear in his hat, or in his
button hole, to be transmitted to his descendants as a badge and a
proof that he had fought in defence of their liberties.  He spoke of
it in such precise terms, as showed he had revolved it in his mind
before.  Mr. Adams says he and Knox were standing together in the
door of the tavern, and does not recollect whether General Washington
and the others were near enough to hear the conversation, or were
even in the room at that moment.  Baron Steuben did not arrive in
America till above a year after that.  Mr. Adams is now fifty-three
years old, _i.e._ nine years more than I am.

        It is said this house will cost four tons of silver, or forty

        HOPE'S HOUSE, NEAR HARLAEM.

        thousand pounds sterling.  The separation between the middle
building and wings in the upper story has a capricious appearance,
yet a pleasing one.  The right wing of the house (which is the left
in the plan) extends back to a great length, so as to make the ground
plan in the form of an L.  The parapet has a pannel of wall, and a
pannel of ballusters alternately, which lighten it.  There is no
portico, the columns being backed against the wall of the front.

        March 30th, 31st.  _Amsterdam. Utrecht. Nimeguen._ The lower
parts of the low countries seem partly to have been gained from the
sea, and partly to be made up of the plains of the Yssel, the Rhine,
the Maese and the Schelde united.  To Utrecht nothing but plains are
seen, a rich black mould, wet, lower than the level of the waters
which intersect it; almost entirely in grass; few or no farm-houses,
as the business of grazing requires few laborers.  The canal is lined
with country houses, which bespeak the wealth and cleanliness of the
country; but generally in an uncouth state, and exhibiting no regular
architecture.  After passing Utrecht, the hills north-east of the
Rhine come into view, and gather in towards the river, till at Wyck
Dursted they are within three or four miles, and at Amelengen they
join the river.  The plains, after passing Utrecht, become more
sandy; the hills are very poor and sandy, generally waste in broom,
sometimes a little corn.  The plains are in corn, grass, and willow.
The plantations of the latter are immense, and give it the air of an
uncultivated country.  There are now few chateaux; farm-houses
abound, built generally of brick, and covered with tile or thatch.
There are some apple-trees, but no forest; a few inclosures of willow
wattling.  In the gardens are hedges of beach, one foot apart, which,
not losing its old leaves till they are pushed off in the spring by
the young ones, gives the shelter of evergreens.  The Rhine is here
about three hundred yards wide, and the road to Nimeguen passing it a
little below Wattelingen, leaves Hetern in sight on the left.  On
this side, the plains of the Rhine, the Ling, and the Waal unite.
The Rhine and Waal are crossed on vibrating boats, the rope supported
by a line of seven little barks.  The platform by which you go on to
the ferry-boat is supported by boats.  The view from the hill at
Cress is sublime.  It commands the Waal, and extends far up the
Rhine.  That also up and down the Waal from the Bellevue of Nimeguen,
is very fine.  The chateau here is pretended to have lodged Julius
Caesar.  This is giving it an antiquity of at least eighteen
centuries, which must be apocryphal.  Some few sheep to-day, which
were feeding in turnip patches.

        April 1st.  _Cranenburg. Cleves. Santen. Reynberg. Hoogstraat._
The transition from ease and opulence to extreme poverty is
remarkable on crossing the line between the Dutch and Prussian
territories.  The soil and climate are the same; the governments
alone differ.  With the poverty, the fear also of slaves is visible
in the faces of the Prussian subjects.  There is an improvement,
however, in the physiognomy, especially could it be a little
brightened up.  The road leads generally over the hills, but
sometimes through skirts of the plains of the Rhine.  These are
always extensive and good.  They want manure, being visibly worn
down.  The hills are almost always sandy, barren, uncultivated, and
insusceptible of culture, covered with broom and moss; here and there
a little indifferent forest, which is sometimes of beach.  The plains
are principally in corn; some grass and willow.  There are no
chateaux, nor houses that bespeak the existence even of a middle
class.  Universal and equal poverty overspreads the whole.  In the
villages, too, which seem to be falling down, the over-proportion of
women is evident.  The cultivators seem to live on their farms.  The
farm-houses are of mud, the better sort of brick; all covered over
with thatch.  Cleves is little more than a village.  If there are
shops or magazines of merchandise in it, they show little.  Here and
there at a window some small articles are hung up within the glass.
The goose-berry beginning to leaf.

        April 2d.  Passed the Rhine at _Essenberg._ It is there about a
quarter of a mile wide, or five hundred yards.  It is crossed in a
scow with sails.  The wind being on the quarter, we were eight or ten
minutes only in the passage.  Duysberg is but a village in fact,
walled in; the buildings mostly of brick.  No new ones, which
indicate a thriving state.  I had understood that near that were
remains of the encampment of Varus, in which he and his legions fell
by the arms of Arminius (in the time of Tiberius I think it was), but
there was not a person to be found in Duysberg who could understand
either English, French, Italian, or Latin.  So I could make no
inquiry.

        From _Duysberg_ to _Dusseldorf_ the road leads sometimes over
the hills, sometimes through the plains of the Rhine, the quality of
which are as before described.  On the hills, however, are
considerable groves of oak, of spontaneous growth, which seem to be
of more than a century; but the soil being barren, the trees, though
high, are crooked and knotty.  The undergrowth is broom and moss.  In
the plains is corn entirely.  As they are become rather sandy for
grass, there are no inclosures on the Rhine at all.  The houses are
poor and ruinous, mostly of brick, and scantling mixed.  A good deal
of grape cultivated.

        _Dusseldorf._ The gallery of paintings is sublime, particularly
the room of Vanderwerff.  The plains from Dusseldorf to Cologne are
much more extensive, and go off in barren downs at some distance from
the river.  These downs extend far, according to appearance.  They
are manuring the plains with lime.  A gate at the Elector's chateau
on this road in this form (illustration omitted).  We cross at
Cologne on a pendulum boat.  I observe the hog of this country
(Westphalia), of which the celebrated ham is made, is tall, gaunt,
and with heavy lop ears.  Fatted at a year old, would weigh one
hundred or one hundred and twenty pounds.  At two years old, two
hundred pounds.  Their principal food is acorns.  The pork, fresh,
sells at two and a half pence sterling the pound.  The hams, ready
made, at eight and a half pence sterling the pound.  One hundred and
six pounds of this country is equal to one hundred pounds of Holland.
About four pounds of fine Holland salt is put on one hundred pounds
of pork.  It is smoked in a room which has no chimney.  Well-informed
people here tell me there is no other part of the world where the
bacon is smoked.  They do not know that we do it.  Cologne is the
principal market of exportation.  They find that the small hog makes
the sweetest meat.

        _Cologne_ is a sovereign city, having no territory out of its
walls.  It contains about sixty thousand inhabitants; appears to have
much commerce, and to abound with poor.  Its commerce is principally
in the hands of Protestants, of whom there are about sixty hou