Manoeuvred to his country seat,

And thence affrighted, in the suds,

Stole off bareheaded through the woods.

44

Have you not roused your mobs to join,
And make Mandamus-men resign,
Call'd forth each duffil-drest curmudgeon,
With dirty trowsers and white bludgeon,
Forced all our Councils through the land,
To yield their necks at your command;
While paleness marks their late disgraces,
Through all their rueful length of faces?
"Have you not caused as woeful work
In our good city of New York,
When all the rabble, well cockaded,
In triumph through the streets paraded,
And mobb'd the Tories, scared their spouses,
And ransack'd all the custom-houses;*
Made such a tumult, bluster, jarring,
That mid the clash of tempests warring,
Smith's weather-cock, in veers forlorn,
Could hardly tell which way to turn?
Burn'd effigies of higher powers,
Contrived in planetary hours;
As witches with clay-images
Destroy or torture whom they please:
Till fired with rage, th' ungrateful club
Spared not your best friend Beelzebub,
O'erlook'd his favors, and forgot
The reverence due his cloven foot,
And in the selfsame furnace frying,

Stew'd him, and North and Bute and Tryon ?‡
Did you not, in as vile and shallow way,
Fright our poor Philadelphian, Galloway,
Your Congress, when the loyal ribald
Belied, berated and bescribbled?
What ropes and halters did you send,
Terrific emblems of his end,

Till, least he'd hang in more than effigy,
Fled in a fog the trembling refugee?
Now rising in progression fatal,
Have you not ventured to give battle?
When Treason chaced our heroes troubled,
With rusty gun,§ and leathern doublet;
Turn'd all stone-walls and groves and bushes,
To batteries arm'd with blunderbusses;
And with deep wounds, that fate portend,
Gaul'd many a Briton's latter end;
Drove them to Boston, as in jail,
Confined without mainprize or bail.
Were not these deeds enough betimes,
To heap the measure of your crimes:
But in this loyal town and dwelling,
You raise these ensigns of rebellion?
"Tis done! fair Merey shuts her door;
And Vengeance now shall sleep no more.
Rise then, my friends, in terror rise;
And sweep this scandal from the skies.
You'll see their Dagon, though well jointed
Will shrink before the Lord's anointed;

The custom-house was broken open at New-York, and all public monies seized.

+ William Smith, an eminent lawyer in New York. He at first opposed the claims of Britain, but after wavering some time, at last joined our enemy. He has since been Chief Justice in Canada.

Tryon was Governor of New York and a British General during the war. He had the glory of destroying the towns of Fairfield and Norwalk. Burnings in effigy were frequently the amusements of the mob at that period, and in imitation of the former custom of the English in burning annually the Pope, the Devil and the Pretender, Beelzebub, with his usual figure and accoutrements, was always join'd in the conflagration with the other obnoxious characters.

And like old Jericho's proud wall,
Before our ram's horns prostrate fall."

This said, our 'Squire, yet undismay'd,
Call'd forth the Constable to aid,
And bade him read, in nearer station,
The Riot-act and Proclamation.
He swift, advancing to the ring,
Began, "Our Sovereign Lord, the King"-
When thousand clam'rous tongues he hears,
And clubs and stones assail his ears.
To fly was vain; to fight was idle;
By foes encompass'd in the middle,
His hope, in stratagems, he found,
And fell right craftily to ground;
Then crept to seek an hiding place,
'Twas all he could, beneath a brace;
Where soon the conq'ring crew espied him,
And where he lurk'd, they caught and tied him
At once with resolution fatal,

Both Whigs and Tories rush'd to battle.
Instead of weapons, either band
Seized on such arms as came to hand.
And as famed Ovid* paints th' adventures
Of wrangling Lapithe and Centaurs,
Who at their feast, by Bacchus led,
Threw bottles at each other's head;
And these arms failing in their scuffles,
Attack'd with andirons, tongs and shovels:
So clubs and billets, staves and stones
Met fierce, encountering every sconce,
And cover'd o'er with knobs and pains
Each void receptacle for brains;
Their clamours rend the skies around,
The hills rebellow to the sound;
And many a groan increas'd the din
From batter'd nose and broken shin
M'FINGAL, rising at the word,

Drew forth his old militia-sword;

Thrice cried "King George," as erst in distress,
Knights of romance invoked a mistress;

And brandishing the blade in air,
Struck terror through th' opposing war.
The Whigs, unsafe within the wind

Of such commotion, shrunk behind.
With whirling steel around address'd,

Fierce through their thickest throng he press'd

(Who roll'd on either side in arch,
Like Red Sea waves in Israel's march)
And like a meteor rushing through,
Struck on their Pole a vengeful blow.
Around, the Whigs, of clubs and stones
Discharged whole vollies, in platoons,
That o'er in whistling fury fly;
But not a foe dares venture nigh.
And now perhaps with glory crown'd
Our 'Squire had fell'd the pole to ground,
Had not some Pow'r, a whig at heart,
Descended down and took their part;
(Whether 'twere Pallas, Mars or Iris,
Tis scarce worth while to make inquiries)
Who at the nick of time alarming,
Assum'd the solemn form of Chairman,
Address'd a Whig, in every scene
The stoutest wrestler on the green,
And pointed where the spade was found,
Late used to set their pole in ground,
And urged, with equal arms and might,
To dare our 'Squire to single fight.
The Whig thus arm'd, untaught to yield,

*Sec Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 12th.

The learned reader will readily observe the allusions in this scene, to the single combats of Paris and Menelaus in Ho mer, Æneas and Turnus in Virgil, and Michael and Satan in Milton,

Advanced tremendous to the field:
Nor did M'FINGAL shun the foe,
But stood to brave the desp'rate blow;
While all the party gazed, suspended
To see the deadly combat ended;
And Jove in equal balance weigh'd
The sword against the brandish'd spade,
He weigh'd: but lighter than a dream,
The sword flew up and kick'd the beam.
Our 'Squire on tiptoe rising fair
Lifts high a noble stroke in air,

Which hung not, but like dreadful engines,
Descended on his foe in vengeance.
But ah! in danger, with dishonor
The sword perfidious fails its owner;
That sword, which oft had stood its ground,
By huge trainbands encircled round;
And on the bench, with blade right loyal,
Had won the day at many a trial,t

Of stones and clubs had braved th' alarms,
Shrunk from these new Vulcanian arms.
The spade so temper'd from the sledge,
Nor keen nor solid harm'd its edge,
Now met it, from his arm of might,
Descending with steep force to smite;

The blade snapp'd short-and from his hand,
With rust embrown'd the glittering sand.
Swift turn'd M'FINGAL at the view,
And call'd to aid th' attendant crew,
In vain; the Tories all had run,
When scarce the fight was well begun:
Their setting wigs he saw decreas'd
Far in th' horizon tow'rd the west.
Amazed he view'd the shameful sight,
And saw no refuge, but in flight:
But age unwieldy check'd his pace,
Though fear had wing'd his flying race;
For not a trifling prize at stake;
No less than great M'FINGAL's back.§
With legs and arms he work'd his course,
Like rider that outgoes his horse,
And labor'd hard to get away, as
Old Satan struggling on through chaos;
"Till looking back, he spied in rear
The spade-arm'd chief advanced too near :
Then stopp'd and seiz'd a stone that lay
An ancient landmark near the way;
Nor shall we as old bards have done,
Affirm it weigh'd an hundred ton;T
But such a stone, as at a shift
A modern might suffice to lift,
Since men, to credit their enigmas,

Are dwindled down to dwarfs and pigmies,
And giants exiled with their cronies
To Brobdignags and Patagonias.
But while our Hero turn'd him round,
And tugg'd to raise it from the ground,
The fatal spade discharged a blow
Tremendous on his rear below:

His bent knee fail'd,* and void of strength
Stretch'd on the ground his manly length.
Like ancient oak o'erturn'd, he lay,
Or tower to tempests fall'n a prey,
Or mountain sunk with all his pines,
Or flow'r the plow to dust consigns,

And more things else-but all men know 'em,
If slightly versed in epic poem.
At once the crew, at this dread crisis,
Fall on, and bind him, ere he rises;
And with loud shouts and joyful soul,
Conduct him prisoner to the pole.
When now the mob in lucky hour
Had got their en'mies in their power,
They first proceed, by grave command,
To take the Constable in hand.
Then from the pole's sublimest top
The active crew let down the rope,
At once its other end in haste bind,
And make it fast upon his waistband;
Till like the earth, as stretch'd on tenter,
He hung self-balanced on his centre.
Then upwards, all hands hoisting sail,
They swung him, like a keg of ale,
Till to the pinnacle in height

He vaulted, like balloon or kite.
As Socratest of old at first did
To aid philosophy get hoisted,

And found his thoughts flow strangely clear,
Swung in a basket in mid air:

Our culprit thus, in purer sky,
With like advantage raised his eye,
And looking forth in prospect wide,
His Tory errors clearly spied,
And from his elevated station,
With bawling voice began addressing.

"Good gentlemen and friends and kin,
For heaven's sake hear, if not for mine!
I here renounce the Pope, the Turks,
The King, the Devil, and all their works;
And will, set me but once at ease,
Turn Whig or Christian, what you please;
And always mind your rules so justly,
Should I live long as old Methus'lah,

I'll never join in British rage,

Nor help Lord North, nor Gen'ral Gage;
Nor lift my gun in future fights,
Nor take away your Charter-rights;
Nor overcome your new-raised levies,
Destroy your towns, nor burn your navies;
Nor cut your poles down while I've breath,
Though raised more thick than hatchel-teeth:
But leave King George and all his elves
To do their conq'ring work themselves."

This said, they lower'd him down in state,
Spread at all points, like falling cat;
But took a vote first on the question,
That they'd accept this full confession,
And to their fellowship and favor,
Restore him on his good behaviour.

Not so our 'Squire submits to rule,
But stood, heroic as a mule.
"You'll find it all in vain, quoth he,
To play your rebel tricks on me.

All punishments, the world can render,

Serve only to provoke th' offender;

The will gains strength from treatment horrid, As hides grow harder when they're curried. No man e'er felt the halter draw,

Was given him temper'd so, that neither keen Nor solid might resist that edge; it met The sword of Satan with steep force to smite Descending and in half cut sheer. Milton. Nec enim levia aut ludicra petuntur Præmia, sed Turni de vita et sanguine certant.

In Milton.
This thought is taken from Juvenal, Satire 15.

Virgil.

With good opinion of the law;
Or held in method orthodox
His love of justice, in the stocks:
Or fail'd to lose by sheriff's shears
At once his loyalty and ears.

Have you made Murray look less big,
Or smoked old Williams* to a Whig?
Did our mobb'd Ol'vert quit his station,
Or heed his vows of resignation?
Has Rivington,‡ in dread of stripes,
Ceased lying since you stole his types?
And can you think my faith will alter,
By tarring, whipping, or the halter?
I'll stand the worst; for recompense
I trust King George and Providence.
And when with conquest gain'd I come,
Array'd in law and terror home,
Ye'll rue this inauspicious morn,
And curse the day, when ye were born,
In Job's high style of imprecations,
With all his plagues, without his patience."
Meanwhile beside the pole, the guard
A Bench of Justice had prepared,§
Where sitting round in awful sort
The grand Committee hold their Court;
While all the crew, in silent awe,
Wait from their lips the lore of law.
Few moments with deliberation
They hold the solemn consultation;
When soon in judgment all agree,
And Clerk proclaims the dread decree;
"That 'Squire M'FINGAL having grown
The vilest Tory in the town,
And now in full examination
Convicted by his own confession,
Finding no tokens of repentance,
This Court proceeds to render sentence:
That first the Mob a slip-knot single
Tie round the neck of said M'FINGAL,
And in due form do tar him next,
And feather, as the law directs;

Then through the town attendant ride him
In cart with Constable beside him,
And having held him up to shame,
Bring to the pole, from whence he came;"
Forthwith the crowd proceed to deck
With halter'd noose M'FINGAL's neck,
While he in peril of his soul
Stood tied half-hanging to the pole;
Then lifting high the ponderous jar,
Pour'd o'er his head the smoaking tar.
With less profusion once was spread
Oil on the Jewish monarch's head,
That down his beard and vestments ran,
And cover'd all his outward man.
As when (so Claudian sings) the Gods
And earth-born Giants fell at odds,
The stout Enceladus in malice
Tore mountains up to throw at Pallas;
And while he held them o'er his head,
The river, from their fountains fed,
Pour'd down his back its copious tide,

Members of the Mandamus Council in Massachusetts. The operation of smoking Tories was thus performed. The victim was confined in a close room before a large fire of green wood, and a cover applied to the top of the chimney.

+ Thomas Oliver, Esq. Lieut. Governor of Massachusetts. He was surrounded at his seat in the country and intimidated by the mob into the signing of his resignation.

Rivington was a tory Printer in New York. Just before the commencement of the war, a party from New Haven attacked his press, and carried off or destroyed the types.

§ An imitation of legal forms was universally practised by the mobs in New-England, in the trial and condemnation of Tories. This marks a curious trait of national character. Claudian's Gigantomachia.

And wore its channels in his hide :
So from the high-raised urn the torrents
Spread down his side their various currents:
His flowing wig, as next the brim,
First met and drank the sable stream;
Adown his visage stern and grave
Roll'd and adhered the viscid wave;
With arms depending as he stood,
Each cuff capacious holds the flood;
From nose and chin's remotest end,
The tarry icicles descend;

Till all o'erspread, with colors gay,
He glitter'd to the western ray,
Like sleet-bound trees in wintry skies,
Or Lapland idol carved in ice.
And now the feather-bag displayed
Is waved in triumph o'er his head,
And clouds him o'er with feathers missive,
And down, upon the tar, adhesive:
Not Maia's son, with wings for ears,
Such plumage round his visage wears;
Nor Milton's six-wing'd+ angel gathers
Such superfluity of feathers.

Now all complete appears our 'Squire,
Like Gorgon or Chimæra dire;
Nor more could boast on Plato'st plan
To rank among the race of man,
Or prove his claim to human nature,
As a two-legg'd, unfeather'd creature.
Then on the fatal cart, in state
They raised our grand Duumvirate.
And as at Romeg a like committee,
Who found an owl within their city,
With solemn rites and grave processio:.s
At every shrine perform'd lustrations;
And least infection might take place
From such grim fowl with feather'd face,
All Rome attends him through the street
In triumph to his country seat:
With like devotion all the choir
Paraded round our awful 'Squire;
In front the martial music comes
Of horns and fiddles, fifes and drums,
With jingling sound of carriage bells,
And treble creak of rusted wheels.
Behind, the crowd, in lengthen'd row
With proud procession, closed the show.
And at fit periods every throat
Combined in universal shout;
And hail'd great Liberty in chorus,
Or bawl'd" confusion to the Tories."
Not louder storm the welkin braves
From clamors of conflicting waves;
Less dire in Lybian wilds the noise
When rav'ning lions lift their voice;
Or triumphs at town-meetings made,
On passing votes to regulate trade.

Thus having borne them round the town,
Last at the pole they set them down;
And to the tavern take their way

To end in mirth the festal day.

And now the Mob, dispersed and gore,
Left 'Squire and Constable alone.
The constable with rueful face
Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace;
And fast beside him, cheek by jowl,

*Mercury, described by the Poets with wings on his head and feet.

And angel wing'd-six wings he wore.-Milton. Alluding to Plato's famous definition of Man, Animal bipes implume-a two-legged animal without feathers. S Livy's History.

Such votes were frequently passed at town-meetings, with the view to prevent the augmentation of prices, and stop the depreciation of the paper money.

Stuck 'Squire M'FINGAL 'gainst the pole,
Glued by the tar t' his rear applied,
Like barnacle on vessel's side.
But though his body lack'd physician,
His spirit was in worse condition.
He found his fears of whips and ropes
By many a drachm outweigh'd his hopes.
As men in jail without mainprize
View everything with other eyes,
And all goes wrong in church and state,
Seen through perspective of the grate:
So now M'FINGAL'S Second-sight
Beheld all things in gloomier light;
His visual nerve, well purgel with tar,
Saw all the coming scenes of war.
As his prophetic soul grew stronger,
He found he could hold in no longer.
First from the pole, as fierce he shook,
His wig from pitchy durance broke,
His mouth unglued, his feathers flutter'd,
His tarr'd skirts crack'd, and thus he uttered.
"Ah, Mr. Constable, in vain

We strive 'gainst wind and tide and rain!
Behold my doom! this feathery omen
Portends what dismal times are coming.
Now future scenes, before my eyes,
And second-sighted forms arise.

I hear a voice, that calls away,

And cries The Whigs will win the day.'
My beck'ning Genius gives command,
And bids me fly the fatal land;
Where changing name and constitution,
Rebellion turns to Revolution,
While Loyalty, oppress'd, in tears,
Stands trembling for its neck and ears.

"Go, summon all our brethren, greeting,
To muster at our usual meeting;
There my prophetic voice shall warn 'em
Of all things future that concern 'em,
And scenes disclose on which, my friend,
Their conduct and their lives depend.
There I*-but first 'tis more of use,
From this vile pole to set me loose;
Then go with cautious steps and steady,
While I steer home and make all ready."

LEMUEL HOPKINS.

DR. LEMUEL HOPKINS, one of the Hartford poets of the Revolutionary era, was born at Waterbury, Connecticut, June 19, 1750. He was the son of a farmer, and was well educated. Constitutional ill health is said to have determined him to the study of medicine. He became a practitioner at Litchfield about 1776, and served for a short time as a volunteer in the American army. He removed to Hartford about 1784, where he passed the remainder of his life, his death occurring on the 14th April, 1801, in his fifty-first year. It is a little singular that while he wrote most pungently against quacks and quackery, his own over-solicitude as to disease should have hastened his death. He feared an attack of pulmonary consumption, and to ward it off, caused himself to be bled repeatedly, till the weakness induced a dropsy in the chest. The sensitiveness of his body probably sharpened his satirical powers, which were keen enough when his pen fastened upon Ethan Allen. The lines appear in the

Litchfield collection of "American Poems," published in 1793.*

ON GENERAL ETHAN ALLEN.

Lo, Allen 'scaped from British jails,
His tushes broke by biting nails,
Appears in Hyperborean skies,
To tell the world the Bible lies.
See him on green hills north afar
Glow like a self-enkindled star,
Prepar'd (with mob-collecting club
Black from the forge of Belzebub,
And grim with metaphysic scowl,
With quill just plucked from wing of owl)
As rage or reason rise or sink,
To shed his blood, or shed his ink.
Behold inspired from Vermont dens,
The seer of Antichrist descends,

To feed new mobs with Hell-born manna
In Gentile lands of Susquehanna;
And teach the Pennsylvania quaker,
High blasphemies against his maker.
Behold him move, ye staunch divines!
His tall head bustling through the pines;
All front he seems like wall of brass,
And brays tremendous as an ass;

One hand is clench'd to batter noses,
While t'other scrawls 'gainst Paul and Mose3.

Hopkins's poetical reputation had been gained by association with Humphreys, Trumbull, and Barlow, in the political essays in verse which

This production was printed by Collier and Buel and marked Vol. I. It contains poems by Trumbull, Dwight, Barlow, Hopkins, Humphreys, Hopkinson, William Livingston, Mrs. Morton, James Allen, and others. A postscript announces the intention of the editors to pursue their design, and "should sufficient encouragement appear, to publish a second volume in the course of the next two years. Many disappointments, the ill health of one of the editors, and other circumstances, too complicated and painful to mention, have contributed to render their work less perfect than their expectations and promises." All this painful apology over a single 12mo. volume at the end of the last century.

covery of ancient Indian fortifications, with their singular relics: the story of the early emigration of a body of Britons and Welsh to this country, and of an existing tribe of their descendants in the interior of the continent, was revived and circulated: and our writers assumed that, in digging among the ruins of one of these fortifications, an ancient heroic poem in the English language had been discovered. This was the Anarchiad, and the essays were supposed extracts from it."*"

A letter to Oliver Wolcott of this date, on the Genet times, has a profound social and political truth well expressed, and shows Hopkins a skilful prose writer. "The southern democrats appear in newspapers, in speeches in Congress, &c., to come much nearer effecting their measures than is really the case. It never was nor can be, that the measures of such men should be popular in New England. There is no such thing as knowing such a people as the New Englanders, so as to calculate crooked politics to their taste, without living among them from early youth. Harangues, ever so well peppered with well-born,' 'monocrats,' 'aristocrats,' 'hell of monarchy,' &c. &c., are so far from really effecting anything in these parts, that whenever the still thinking part of the community can be brought to manifest their minds on any measure of consequence, they will at once drown a din of complaining politics which, of itself, would seem formidable.

The

more a man is among all sorts of people, the more fully will he learn the unmeasured difference there is between the sentiment of newspapers, replete with local politics, and the opinions of an enlightened people in the peaceable and successful pursuit of wealth and happiness. I find more and more, that a busy set of wrongheads can at pleasure stir up for a time any sentiments they please in cities, and that there is a great aptitude in most men to consider cities as worlds, or at least as the manufactories of sentiments for whole countries, and much of this may be true in the old world; but in New England the contrary is and ever will be true as long as our schools, presses, and town corporations last.Ӡ

To the Echo he contributed only the two New Year's Addresses for the Connecticut Courant of 1795 and 6, and portions of The Political Green House for the year 1798. In these passages he celebrates the arrival of Genet.

But though the French are giant sinners,
Yet have we not Tom Thumb beginners?
Which though a molish sort of mice,
May grow to rats like nits to lice,
Gnaw thro' our vessel's lower quarter.
And fill, and sink her in deep water.
See fraught with democratie lore,
Genet arriv'd on Charleston shore.

But, as was meet, first broach'd his mission,
To men of sans-culotte condition;
Who throng'd around with open throats,
As round old Crusoe flock'd the goats,
And learn'd his sermon, to his wishes,
As Austin taught huge shoals of fishes;
Made all the antifederal presses,
Screech shrill hosannas, styl'd addresses;
And while to Court he took his way,

Poets of Connecticut, p. 39.

+ Gibbs's Administration of Washington and Adams, ii. 105

Sung hallelujahs to Genet;
But still our Palinurus saw,
With cool contempt this stormy flaw,
And, spite of all the Belial band,
Steer'd safe our leaky bark to land.
Like Hessian flies, imported o'er,
Clubs self-create infest our shore.
And see yon western rebel band,
A medley mix'd from ev'ry land;
Scotch, Irish, renegadoes rude,
From Faction's dregs fermenting brew'd;
Misguided tools of antifeds,

With clubs anarchical for your heads,
Why would ye make this cost and trouble
Yourselves of warlike flames the stubble?
Tire down the arm out-stretch'd to save,
And freedom's cradle make her grave?

The fatal year of Robespierre, and the hope of Poland in Kosciusko, and such home matters as the mania for land speculation, Wayne's Indian victory, and Washington's second appointment as Commander-in-Chief by President Adams.

Eas'd now of much incumbent weight,
Proceeds the business of the State,
Rais'd by the sounds of war's alarms,
Our ardent youth all fly to arms,
And from the work-shop and the field,
The active labourers seize the shield;
While on the silver'd brow of age,
Relumes the fire of martial rage.
Our veteran Chiefs, whose honour'd scars
Are trophies still of former wars,
Appointed move beneath their SHIELD,
To reap the ripen'd martial field,
And lo! from Vernon's sacred hill,
Where peaceful spirits love to dwell-
Where twice retir'd from war's alarms,
Slept, and awoke, his conquering arms,
The HERO comes!-whose Laurels green,
In bloom eternal shall be seen;
While Gallic Ivy fades away,
Before the scorching eye of Day.
He comes-he comes! to re-array
Your hosts, ye heroes, for th' affray!
Him for your head-collect from far
The shield, the sword, and plume of war;
Indignant earth rejoicing hears,
Fell insult bristling up your spears,
And joins her hosts to crush the foes,
Of virtue and her own repose.

Jefferson had nothing to thank Dr. Lemuel Hopkins for, if the lines which follow are from his pen:

Great sire of stories past belief,
Historian of the Mingo chief,
Philosopher of Indian's hair,
Inventor of a rocking chair.
The correspondent of Mazzé
And Banneker less black than he!
With joy we find you rise from coguing
With Judge M'Kean and "foolish Logan,"
And reeling down the factious dance,
Dispatch the Doctor off to France,
To tell the Frenchmen, to their cost,
They reckon'd here without their host.

Allen, who brings his characters to a religious test in his "American Biographical Dictionary," intimates that Hopkins himself at one time had some sympathies in common with Jefferson. “In his early life," says he, "he admired the infidel philosophers of France; in his last days he read