of Francis Hopkinson, of whom we have before spoken. He was educated at the University of Pennsylvania, and studied law with Judge Wilson and William Rawle. He commenced the practice of his profession at Easton; but soon returned to Philadelphia, where he acquired high distinction as a lawyer. He was counsel for Rush in his libel suit against Cobbett; and for Judge Chase of the Supreme Court of the United States, on the impeachment of that officer by the Senate. He was a member of the House of Representatives from 1815 to 1819, where he opposed the re-charter of the United States Bank, and maintained a high position as a speaker. ties for the one side or the other; some thinking that policy and duty required us to take part with republican France, as the war was called; others were for our connecting ourselves with England, under the belief that she was the great preservative power of good principles and safe government. The violation of our rights by both belligerents was forcing us from the just and wise policy of President Washington, which was to do equal justice to both, to take part with neither, but to keep a strict and honest neutrality between them. The prospect of a rupture with France was exceedingly offensive to the portion of the people which espoused her cause, and the violence of the spirit of party has never risen higher, I think not so high, as it did at that time on that question. The theatre was then open in our city: a young man belonging to it, whose talent was as a singer, was about to take his benefit. I had known him when he was at school. On this acquaintance, he called on me on Saturday afternoon, his benefit being announced for the following Monday. He said he had twenty boxes taken, and his prospect was that he should suffer a loss instead of receiving a benefit from the performance; but that if he could get a patriotic song adapted to the tune of the "President's March," then the popular air, he did not doubt of a full house; that the poets of the theatrical corps had been trying to accomplish it, but were satisfied that no words could be composed to suit the music of that march. I told him I would try for him. He came the next afternoon, and the song, such as it is, was ready for him. It was announced on Monday morning, and the theatre was crowded to excess, and so continued, night after night, for the rest of the whole season, the song being encored and repeated many times each night, the audience joining in the chorus. It was also sung at night in the streets by large assemblies of citizens, including members of Congress. The enthusiasm was general, and the song was heard, I may say, in every part of the United States. The object of the author was to get up an American spirit, which should be independent of and above the interests, passions, and policy of both belligerents, and look and feel exclusively for our own honour and rights. Not an allusion is made either to France or England, or the quarrel between them, or to what was the most in fault in their treatment of us. Of course the song found favour with both parties at least neither could disown the senti ments it inculcated. It was truly American and nothing else, and the patriotic feelings of every American heart responded to it. Such is the history of the song, which has endured infinitely beyond any expectation of the author, and beyond any merit it can boast of, except that of being truly and exclusively patriotic in its sentiments and spirit. 66 The foregoing was written (Aug. 24, 1840), for the Wyoming Band" at Wilkesbarre, who had requested the author to give them an account of the occasion for which "Hail Columbia" was composed. HAIL COLUMBIA. Tune-" President's March." Hail, Columbia! happy land! Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause, Firm-united-let us be, Sound, sound, the trump of Fame! Ring through the world with loud applause, With equal skill, and godlike power, Of horrid war; or guides, with ease, Behold the chief who now commands, The rock on which the storm will beat; WILLIAM MARTIN JOHNSON. IN the village of Wrentham, Mass., there lived about the outbreak of the Revolutionary War a sea-captain, who had retired on a moderate income, by the name of Albee. He had no children of his own, and feeling lonesome in his isolation, proposed to a vagabond couple who were occasionally beggars at his door, as they were at the doors of many a house of many a town of Massachusetts and Connecticut, to adopt a bright looking boy whom they carried about with them, and called their son. The worthy couple answered, in the intervals when they were sober enough to answer anything, to the name of Johnson. They accepted the captain's proposal, the father with great joy, the mother with many tears, visited the boy occasionally afterwards, but finally disappeared. The captain was in the main a good guardian, though he was apt also to get drunk, and when drunk apply the rope's end with more vigor than discretion about the person of young Johnson. He, however, taught him all he knew himself, and sent him to school to learn more. In this way he picked up some Latin and Greek before his sixteenth year, when he was placed in a store in Boston. He did not remain long, however, behind the counter, but commenced business on his own account as an itinerant schoolmaster, now and then visiting Wrentham, on one occasion in the garb of a sailor, "bearing," says his biographer, "both in his dress and person, marks of ill-usage at sea." The following scrap of verse found among his papers, in his early hand-writing, probably refers to this venture. God's miracles I'll praise on shore, And there his blessings reap; In 1790, when about the age of nineteen, he was at the head of the village school of Bridgehampton, Long Island. He saved a little money, and finding his way to East Hampton, six miles distant, commenced the study of medicine with Dr. Sage, a physician of that place. After his funds were exhausted, he supported himself by working for a cabinet-maker two days in the week, in payment for his board during the entire seven. After two years at East Hampton, a good portion of which seems to have been spent in verse and love as well as cabinet-making, Johnson came to New York to seek his fortune. He continued the study of medicine after his arrival with Dr. Amasa Dingley, supporting himself as well as he could as a writer of newspaper paragraphs (which, judging from the meagreness of the papers of that day, must have afforded equally meagre means of sustenance), and as a teacher. During this period, almost of destitution, he was tempted by a publisher's offer to translate one of the infidel books then in vogue in France, the" Christianisme Dévoilée" of Boulanger. He regretted this act afterwards. "I do not believe," he wrote to a friend, “that Boulanger's sentiments concerning the Christian religion are just. I believe the most prominent features of the monster in question, are sophistry and rancour." "Persuasion and poverty," he says in the same letter, "induced me to translate this work of Boulanger." Soon after this, having in the meantime narrowly escaped death from an attack of yellow fever, he received a proposal from Dr. Robert Brownfield, of Georgetown, S. C., to enter into a medical partnership at that place. He accepted the offer, the more readily as he was desirous of placing himself in a position which would justify him, by providing means of support, in asking the hand of a lady to whom he had become attached, and arrived at the place in February, 1796. He was successful in the practice of his profession, and seemed on the point of securing his wishes, when he was attacked by a fever in the autumn after his arrival. His constitution had been previously impaired by illness, and he remained an invalid during the winter. In June he was again seized, and at last, yielding to the entreaties of his friend Dr. Brownfield, made a visit to the North for the benefit of his health. On his arrival at New York in August, he went to Jamaica, Long Island. Here his old friends soon surrounded him. But a short time only remained for the exercise of their affection, his death occurring on the twenty-first of September following. Our knowledge of Johnson is derived from two of a series of articles by John Howard Payne, on "Our Neglected Poets," to which we are also indebted for our specimens of his productions, few of which appear to have attained the honors of newspaper, much less collective publication. They deserve a better fate than the "neglect" they have experienced, for they display many beauties of thought and expression. ON A SNOW-FLAKE FALLING ON A LADY'S BREAST. To kiss my Celia's fairer breast, The snow forsakes its native skies, But proving an unwelcome guest, It grieves, dissolves in tears, and dies. Its touch, like mine, but serves to wake Through all her frame a death-like chill,Its tears, like those I shed, to make That icy bosom colder still. I blame her not: from Celia's eyes WINTER. Now grim amidst his gathering glooms, And all the tempests of the north. Affrighted nature shrieks and dies. And o'er the mighty ruin weeps. Or lifts the longing eye, and sighs For milder climes and lovelier meads, A vernal hour, that never flies, And flowers, that rear immortal heads; Where ne'er, unchain'd, the maniac blast Scours the bleak heavens, with hideous scream: Where skies of sapphire, ne'er o'ercast, Incessant pour the golden beam. SPRING. 'Tis May! no more the huntsman finds Over the glassy streamlet's brink, Young verdures peep, themselves to view; In ditties wild, devoid of thought, The robin through the day descants, Oh, let our prayers prolong thy little stay, Life, love, and joy, to thee belong,- song, Thou com'st, and nature laughs aloud. Let prouder swains forsake the cell In arms, or arts, to rise and shine, I blame them not-alas! I wish them wellBut May and solitude be mine! FAME. Clad with the moss of gathering years, Let wisdom build your humble cot: There clasp your fair one to your breast, Your eyes impearl'd with transport's tear, By turns caressing and carest,— Your infant prattlers sporting near. Content your humble board shall dress, And poverty shall guard your door,— Of wealth and fame, if you have less Than monarchs, you of bliss have more. EPITAPH ON A LADY. Here sleep in dust, and wait the Almighty's will, Then rise unchang'd, and be an angel still. CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN. It is somewhat remarkable that the first of our novelists, as well as the first of our painters, should have sprung from a sect, which in principle and practice manifests a repugnance rather than sympathy with the products of the imagination. Charles Brockden Brown was, like Benjamin West, of Quaker lineage, his ancestors having emigrated to Pennsylvania in the same ship which brought William Penn to her shores. He was born in Philadelphia on the seventeenth of January, 1771. His middle name was derived from his uncle, who was settled in this country at an early period, under somewhat peculiar circumstances. This relative was brought up in England as a student in the office of a lawyer who was disaffected to the government of the reigning monarch, Charles II. While pursuing his studies he accidentally overheard a conversation between his employer and a number of other persons, in which a plot against the government was broached. At the close of the conference the auditor was discovered. A number urged that he should be put to death, but his life was spared by the lawyer's assertion that the youth was of too feeble intellectual capacity to make use of his knowledge. It was then decided that he should be sent out of the country, but the project was not executed uutil some time after, when some circumstances had re-excited the fears of the conspirators. He was shipped to Philadelphia, where he rapidly rose to official eminence. He was the "skilful conveyancer" and "great scrivener" who drew up the articles of agreement of the Philadelphis Library for Benjamin Franklin, who records the fact, in 1731. The early years of the future novelist were marked by intellectual precocity and physical weakness. He found food in books for the cravings caused by the one, and a solace for the deprivations entailed by the other. When but an infant he could be safely left without other companion than a picture-book, which would engross his attention so completely as to exclude all ideas of mischief and apprehensions of danger. A few years after he would be found in his stockings (an instance of cautious neatness characteristic of Quaker training) mounted on a table in order to trace out the courses of rivers and mountains, on a large map suspended to the wall. This was so favorite a study with him that at the age of ten he could answer any geographical question started in the family. It was a taste which continued through life; one of the works on which he was employed at the time of his death being a treatise on this same subject. General literature was, however, equally attractive, as he devoured the contents of every book he could lay his hands upon. His At the age of eleven he entered the school of Robert Proud, a renowned teacher of those days. He remained here five years, pursuing classical stud ́es with such ardor that his slight physical frame often broke down under his exertions. periods of relaxation were not, however, passed in inaction. He followed the good advice of his instructor to turn for a while his back on the city as well as the school, and recruit in the pure country air. The excursions consequently performed were generally pedestrian, and were conducive to mental as well as physical strength; though, as he was usually without a companion, they served somewhat to confirm him in a reserved habit of mind. A passion for verse-making succeeded the regular duties of school. He laid Virgil and Homer on the shelf only to endeavor to rival their labors by his own. He had three historical poems planned out, one on the Discovery of America, another on Cortez, and a third devoted to Pizarro. Epic writing, however, happily proved but a passing fancy with him. One of his early poetical attempts met with an amusing mishap. It was an Address to Franklin, but the printer of the periodical in which it appeared saw fit to insert throughout, in place of the author's hero, the name of Washington. "Washington," he says in his journal, "therefore stands arrayed in awkward colours. Philosophy smiles to behold her darling son; she turns with horror and disgust from those who have won the laurel of victory in the field of battle, to this, her favourite candidate, who had never participated in such bloody glory, and whose fame was derived from the conquests of philosophy alone." We next hear of Brown as a law student in the office of Alexander Wilson, a leading member of the Philadelphia bar. The study was as discordant with his mental as its practice with his personal habits. He appears, however, to have at first taken hold of the profession with ardor as he became a member of a law society, bore a leading part in its forensic debates, and was elected its President. This association, however, soon had a rival in the for mation of the "Belles Lettres Club," of which Brown, who was at first averse to the project, soon became the leader. He was conscientiously active in both of these associations, and his decisions in the cases brought before the first named association show that his mind was well fitted for the legal profession. But directly after the completion of one of these decisions, says one of his friends, "he gave vent to his fancy in a poetical effusion, as much distinguished by its wild and eccentric brilliancy as the other composition was for its plain sobriety and gravity of style." This anecdote shows the bias of his tastes, and foreshadows the determination arrived at on the conclusion of his studies-the abandonment of law for literature. The change was one regretted by his family, who had no fortune on which he could fall back from the hazards of an author's career for support; but it was not the wilful prosecution of a whim on the part of Brown. With a view to the improvement of his style he had for some time past kept a daily record of his thoughts and experiences, in which he copied the letters he wrote to his friends and those which he received in return-a practice somewhat similar to that of the inveterate journalizer, Haydon, the painter, who pasted all the letters addressed to him in the ample pages of his folio records. He had tested his intellectual powers in his club compositions, and in a series of essays under the appropriate title of The Rhapsodist, which were published in 1789 in the "Columbus Magazine." Their reception had given him confidence in his intellectual resources. A distrust of his qualifications for the more active legal career was doubtless an equally or more exciting cause of his determination. The decision must, however, be regarded, as it seems to have afterwards been by its author, as an unfortunate one. The demands of a profession were precisely those which he needed to cure his shyness, call him from a too retired mode of life, a constant habit of introspection and revery, which he indulged to an injurious extent, and which an exclusively literary career tended, as his works prove, to foster rather than combat. Due credit must at the same time be given to him for resolution and bravery. He was not only the first person in America who ventured to pursue literature as a profession, but almost the first to make an attempt in the field of imaginative writing, disconnected with the advocacy of any question of national or local interest. He sought relief from the doubts and anxieties incident to this change of his plans in a journey to New York to visit his intimate friend Dr. Elihu Hubbard Smith, with whom he had become acquainted while the latter was prosecuting his medical studies at Philadelphia. He was introduced by this gentleman to William Dunlap, the painter and author, and to most of the leading literary and scientific men of the city, many of whom met at a weekly reunion under the pleasant title of the "Friendly Club,"* of which Brown, who seems to have deserved the epithet of Dr. Johnson, that of being a "clubable man," soon became a member. Owing, doubtless, to the attractiveness of the choice literary society of these Vide ante, p. 570. gentlemen, our author's visits to New York were more and more prolonged, and following one another at less and less intervals, he virtually became a resident of the city. A letter published in the "Literary Magazine" written about this time, descriptive of a journey to Rockaway, contains a pleasant and curious description of that celebrated watering-place, which he speaks of as at that time "a place of fashionable resort." He wrote in the fall and winter of 1797 a work which he refers to in his journal as "the dialogue of Alcuin, in which the topic of Marriage is discussed with some degree of subtlety, at least." It was published in the same year, but its crude and hazardous theories on the subject of divorce and other social topics excited little attention, and were abandoned by the author as he grew wiser and older. He also speaks in his journal of having commenced a novel in a series of letters, which was never completed. During the summer of 1798 the yellow fever broke out in New York. Brown, unwilling to lose the society of his friend Smith, in whose house he was then resident, determined to remain in the city, relying for security, as he states in a letter to his brother James, on his mode of living, "from which animal food and spirituous liquors are wholly excluded." He also relied on the remoteness of his residence from the infected district. The latter advantage was neutralized by the humane conduct of himself and Dr. Smith in removing the friend of the latter, Scandella, an Italian gentleman, who was attacked by the disease, to their home, where he soon after died. Both friends caught the infection; but Smith fell, and Brown recovered. His correspondence bears touching evidence of his sorrow for the loss of his friend, and his novel of Arthur Mervyn gives a similar testimony of the lasting effect which his experience as an eyewitness of and sufferer from the pestilence here and in his native city in 1793 made upon him. We next hear of a magazine projected by Brown. It does not seem to have got out of the limbo of castle-building, although the requisites to insure success are moderate. They are thus stated in a letter to his brother Armit, and are interesting as an item of literary history: "Four hundred subscribers will repay the annual expense of sixteen hundred dollars. As soon as this number is obtained, the printers will begin, and trust to the punctual payment of these for reimbursement. All above four hundred will be clear profit to me; one thousand subscribers will produce four thousand five hundred dollars, and deducting the annual expense will leave two thousand seven hundred." We find him in 1798 contributing a series of papers entitled The Man at Home to the "Weekly Magazine," a miscellany of some merit. These papers have a connecting thread of story, but are for the most part occupied with reflections on men and society. They extend through the first volume, and are followed in the second by his novel of Arthur Mervyn. The Weekly Magazine of Original Essays, Fugitive Pieces, and Interesting Intelligence. Phila.: James Walters. Svo. pp. 32. It appears to have been continued a little over a year. The projected magazine gave way to a series of far greater importance, not only to the reputation of the author but to that of the literature of his country. His first step, however, in the career which was to make him famous was arrested by an annoying mishap. The story is worth relating as it shows the obstacles with which authorship in America had to struggle in its infancy. Brown wrote his first novel, bearing the title of Sky Walk, or the Man Unknown to Himself The printer who had engaged to print the work and look to its sale for his pay, died when his task was nearly completed. His executors refused to fulfil the contract or to sell the printed sheets at the price the author's friends offered for them, and thus "Sky Walk" was denied a terrestrial career. The fate of the sheets is unknown. Brown, who, judging from the number of his fragmentary manuscripts as well as the incomplete nature of his published works, wrote quite as much to please himself as the public, did not probably take the matter to heart, and afterwards incorporated portions of his ill-fated novel in Edgar Huntley. C. B. Brown In the year 1798 his Wieland appeared. It was published in a duodecimo volume of some three hundred pages by T. & J. Swords and H. Caritat. Its success was immediate, and so stimulating to its author that in the December after its publication he wrote Ormond. The publication of this second novel in New York, 1799, was followed by the first part of that of Arthur Mervyn during the same year in Philadelphia. This was followed in a few months by Edgar Huntley, in 1800 by the second part of Arthur Mervyn, and in the next year by Clara Howard and Jane Talbot. His literary labors at this period seem to have been interrupted only by a short visit to some friends at Middletown, Connecticut, in June, 1799; by a similar excursion to Princeton, New Jersey, to meet his eldest brother, whose ordinary residence was Charleston, South Carolina, and a The "proposals" for publication appear on the cover of the Weekly Magazine, published in Philadelphia in 1798. |