by a large and very respectable society, merits a transient
consideration.
Piomingo. We will however dismiss that subject for
the present. Who is that little man whose attention
is distracted between smoking and talking? He cer-
tainly never has heard of the philosopher who did but
one thing at a time.
Frank. That is a revolutionary character.
Piomingo. Be more explicit Frank, and inform me
what is the signification of this revolutionary character.
Frank. Why sir, the gentleman is forty or fifty years
old; and consequently must have been alive somewhere
during our revolutionary contest. He has been, he in-
forms us, in every important engagement; and, if we
credit his assertions, we must admit that the successful
issue of the war was principally owing to his personal
exertions.
Piomingo. Can we believe him?
Frank. That depends on the measure of your faith.
Many years have passed away since the close of the war.
Time has involved the eventsof those days in obscurity:
and a man may boast, without danger of detection, of
THE SAVAGE.
197
exploits which were never performed. Thousands who
fought and bled in the war for independence are long
since numbered with the dead; yet never were revolu-
tionary characters, as they arc called, more numerous
than at the present moment. The most of those who
suffered the hardships of war and fought the battles of
their country have lived in penury and distress, and died
neglected and unknown; who then are these, who ex-
tol their personal prowess over a bowl, and exhibit
their revolutionary scars in the taverns ofPhiladelphia?
The heroes of independence resemble the heads of the
serpent of Lerna: when death cuts o(F one, a hundred
spring up in his place. Observe that smiling redfaced
selfconceitcd animal who walks across the floor with an
air so important and imposing: that is an Irishman; and
an ignorant Irishman. He has no knowledge of histo-
ry; he is totally unacquainted with the affairs of his own
country; and yet^ although he has not been six months
on this side of the Atlantic, he conceives himself fully
able to discuss our political concerns and settle the af-
fairs of the nation. There is no office in the United
States but he has the impudence to demand; and his de-
mand, when he thinks proper to make it, will be pro-
bably successful. He will grow rich and powerful, and
fatten on the gifts of the nation, while the children of re-
volutionary heroes pine inobscurity and want. It was to
provide a country for such fellows as this, that my father
shed his blood in the service of the public, and reduced
himself and his family to poverty. Where is he now?
Cold is the sod that covers his head;
And sound isthesleep of his tomb)
his name is forgotten; his children are unknown; and
here comes an ignorant coxcomb to gather the fruit of
his labor.
Piomingo. Would you prohibit the ingress of for;
eigncrs?
Frank. No: but I should like a little modesty in for-
eigners. They might live in peace and enjoy the pro-
ducts of their industry; but I see no necessity for their
R2
198 THE SAVAGE.
becoming legislators, or enjoying the emoluments of
office, while there are thousands of natives fully as capa-
ble, and certainly as patriotic, as any insolent foreigner
whatever.
Piomingo. But if a man of genius fix his residence
among you, why should his adopted country be depriv-
ed of the advantages that may be derived from the ex-
ercise of his talents in public affairs?
Frank. There is indigenous genius enough, if it met
with sufficient encouragement; but as long as European
impudence bears every thing before it, American geni-
us must lie in the shade. Js it not preposterous that a
man just broke loose from the land of slaves should pre-
sume to regulate the affairs of a people who are said to
be free?
Piomingo. Should they not enjoy the privileges of
citizenship?
Frank, I think not. Their children might become
citizens; but why should men born and educated in for-
eign countries, influenced by extraneous prejudices,
and feeling an invincible attachment to the place of
their birth, be admitted to rank with native citizens
who love their country "they know not why and care
not wherefore?" Love of country is a prejudice: know-
ledge may destroy but cannot produce it. And as for-
eigners never can feel the operation of this prejudice in
favor of the adopted country, they cannot be heartily
and wholly attached to its interests. The fact is, they
never become more than half citizens. After they have
been here thirty or forty years, you may hear them ex-
press their regard for their dear native land, and call it,
with affectionate tenderness, — home. I blame not this
amiable partiality. I should dislike the man who felt
it not; but I contend that no one can become wholly at-
tached to any other country but that which gave him
birth. Piomingo! can you describe the place of your
nativity?
Piomingo, On a gentle eminence, near a rapid stream,
•tood a wattled hut, overshadowed by the branches of a
THE SAVAGE. 199
venerable oak. On the right was the distant prospect
of an Indian village; on the left, a narrow path wind-
ing down the hill to the banks of the river. Majestic
mountains appeared at a distance.
Frank. Piorningo! do you never repeat, with melan-
choly pleasure,
En unquam patrios longo post tempore fines,
Pauperis et tuguri congest um cespiteculmen,
Post aliquot, inea regna videns, mirabor aristas?
Should you return once more after many years' absence
and visit the Indian village, the swelling hill, the rapid
stream, the winding path, the little hut, and the vener-
able oak, would they not excite a thousand ineffable feel-
ings? Can you feel the same attachment to any other
spot in the universe? Is not that your country? Could
you forget the scene of your infant joys, where you first
became conscious of existence, where you spent your
happiest days, where the bones of your fathers are bu-
ried, and where your brethren dwell — could you for-
get all these, and attach yourself, exclusively to any
other country and people?
Piorningo, May not a man have reason to hate his peo-
ple and the land of his fathers?
Frank, A man cannot hate his people and the land
of his fathers: it is impossible. If lie can, he is utterly
incapable of loving any other.
Piorningo, This civilized uproar fatigues me. I must
be going.
Frank, Stay a moment, till I show you another for-
eigner. We have them of all descriptions. That inani-
mate being who sits by himself viewing every thing
round him with sullen contempt is an Englishman. He
has been among us these twenty years, but in all that
time has found nothing on which he could bestow the
slightest commendation. There are but four things that
fall within the range of his abilities: he can eat, drink,
love, old England, and hate every other thing.in existence.
He never can be induced to taste any species of food
which is unknown in England : and of those kinds which
200 TIIE SAVAGE.
are common to both countries, that which is produced
here is, he asserts, infinitely inferior in quality. If you
show him the choicest productions of the soil, he will
sometimes reluctantly admit they may do, taking care at
the same time to add, they are much better in England,
He never has been so fortunate, since he crossed the
Atlantic, as to meet with a dinner properly prepared:
and when he returns to the land of shopkeepers, should
he ever return, he will inform his countrymen that the
people of Pennsylvania are anthropophagi and blacks.
Although he carries the marks of stupid vulgarity in his
countenance, he affects to despise the Americans as a
nation of rebels, convicts and savages.
Piomingo. Will he argue on political subjects?
Frank. Argue! he argues as a dog would argue: he
snarls at every thing round him. lie abuses our legis-
lative assemblies and curses publicly the officers of gov-
ernment.
Piomingo. It is magnanimous tooverlook these things.
Frank. I have no opinion of such magnanimity. Sup-
pose I should go to England and call the virtuous mem-
bers of parliament robbers and villains,and thesapient
monarch a fool; what would be theconsequence? Why
should strangers be allowed greater privileges amongus,
than the citizens of the United States would be allowed
in foreign countries?
Piomingo. This is a free country.
Frank. A free country ! words withoutmeaning! And
because it is a free country, must we allow ourselves to
be abused and insulted by every insolent foreigner who
lands on our shores? Suppose you had a family, Pio-
mingo, and I, when admitted as a visiter, should insult
your wife, and curse yourself, the lord and master of the
little monarchy; suppose I should ridicule your private
arrangements, and laugh at your domestic establish-
ment: or suppose, I should finally presume to take in
my own hands the regulation of your affairs; would not
my conduct be resented?
Piomingo. The lawyers tell us, you know, that a
THE SAVAGE. 201
man's house is his castle: I should certainly eject you
from my citadel.
Frank. And may not ourterritories be accounted the
great domicil or castle of the nation? Shall the many-
headed monster be bearded in his den? Shall one set of
foreigners ridicule our laws and regulations, and curse
with impunity "the ruler of the people; 1 ' while another,
out of pity to our ignorance, would push us from our seats
and take upon themselves the management ofour affairs?
Upon my veracity, I know not which most to admire —
the Irishman's intrusive impudence, the Englishman's
haughty stupidity, or the weakness and servility of the
American.
Piomingo. Have you done?
Frank. No: there is another foreigner present, to
whom I wish to call your attention.
Piomingo, What is he? a Frenchman?
Frank. No, not a Frenchman. What made you put
the French in my head? What could I say of a people
that stormed and blustered about liberty and equality
till they set the world in an uproar, and then fell pros-
trateat the feet of a daring usurper? I have no patience
with the French. They excited our hopes, and plung-
ed us in despair. They have disappointed the philan-
thropist, brought disgrace on the cause of humanity,
and established for ages the government of kings.
Piomingo, How old are you, Frank?
Frank, Why do you ask that question, Piomingo?
Piomingo, Because you appear to me to be carried
away by a frantic enthusiasm, which I should not expect
to find in a man who had arrived at years of maturity:
at least, in a man who had made human nature his stu-
dy, and observed the passions and motives which govern
the actions of men.
Frank, O, I have gotten out of my swaddling clothes:
but 1 must acknowledge that in the early period of the
French revolution, 1 felt my full share of the general en-
thusiasm, which pervaded the world, and seemed for a
season to elevate human nature above every mercenary
consideration.
232 THE SAVAGE.
Plomingo. Did you expect a political millennium?
Frank* The truth is, 1 not only expected a political,
but a religious, millennium. I thought 1 saw in passing
events the accomplishment of prophecies. I expected po-
litical and spiritual regeneration to go hand in hand un-
til ail men should become brothers, and justice and peace
beestablishod forever. I was ready to exclaim withVirgii,
Ultima Cmiwei venit jam rarminis irc'as:
Ma.'nusa'i inte, f ro seclorum nascitur ordo:
Jam redit ct virgo, rcdcmtit Saturnia reigna:
J,im nova progenies ca?!o demittitur alto.
I expected ki the sun of righteousness" to rise upon the
earth; and the clouds of darkness superstition and preju-
dice to be scattered by "the brightness of his coming."
I expected that through the blessings of freedom and the
"outpouring of the Spirit," "the wilderness would belike
Eden, and the desert like the garden of the Lord!" I
prayed without ceasing for the downfal of pagan idolatry,
popish superstition, and Jewish infidelity. I read New-
ton on the prophecies, studied the weeks and times of
Daniel; and meditated profoundly on the heads, horns,
trumpets and vials of the Revelation. J expected every
moment to see the heavens opened, and the New Jerusa-
lem descending on the earth! — But the progress of the
French revolution destroyed these gay illusions. These
enchanting hopes have "passed away as a vision of the
night;" and tin b'adzicss of darkness has succeeded. In-
stead of a new heaven and a new enrth, I have nothing
to amuse me but this same old dull wicked world.
Phmingo. I was going to point out the impossibility
of this great change taking place in consequence of the
French revolution, and to demonstrate the folly of your
expectations; but as I find that you supposed these won-
ders would be effected by supernatural means, my rea-
soning would not be so applicable to the case as I ima-
gined. You were certainly right in calling in a heavenly
personage to act a part in your great and magnificent
drama: nor can the severest critic accuse you of trans-
gressing the mixim of Horace:
Nee Deus intersit, nisi dL r nus vindicc nodus.
THE SAVAGE. 203
Frank. However lightly you may (rent this subject,
Piomingo, (o me it has been a most serious affair. No-
thing agitates the passions of men with so much violence
as religion and polities: and when these two, at the same
time, exert their influence upon a young ingenuous and
enthusiastic mind, the consequences are marvellous. —
And when the mind, after having been agitated and subli-
mated by wild and undelinable emotions, finds itself a-
inong the mire and tilth of this sublunary world — how-
vapid and tasteless is existence! — But here we arc: since
nature lias made us but men, why should we proudly and
arrogantly aspire to be gods? Why should we, who gro-
vel upon the earth, raise our daring thoughts to heaven
and soar beyond the bounds of creation? Is it not strange
that such worms as we, should be actuated by passions
so strong, ambition so bold, and desires so unbounded?
C(c!um, ipsuin pelinius stultitia!
Piomingo. Man is a reptile indeed, and may truly say,
with one of your sacred writers, "to corruption, thou art
my father; and to the worm, thou art my mother and my
sister:"' but that daring .ambition, those ardent passions,
boundless desires, and aspiring hopes, which excite your
admiration, may lead us to look for another scene of ex-
istence, when man shall find objects sufficiently noble
to exercise the powers ofiiis soul, and satisfy his subli-
mest aspirations.
Frank. Such reflections may calm your philosophic
mind, Piomingo; but one who has been taught to expect
certainty in these things views your probaliMits with im-
patience. However,! must inform you that 1 have near-
ly got rid of these troublesome speculations, which, if in-
dulged, would unlit a man for the great and important
concerns of this momentary life. 1 endeavor to suit my-
self to the station in which nature has placed me, and to
teach my mind to be satisfied with things which are at-
tainable.
Piomingo* You endeavor?
Frank. I must acknowledge it is only an endeavor; for
I continually experience vexations in business, troubles
204 THE SAVAGE.
with my nearest connexions, disappointments in friend-
ship; and become more and more convinced of the un-
satisfactory natureof every enjoyment. 0,forthatapathy
of soul, that sweet a$araxia,o{ which I have heard, which
forbids alike the approaches of pleasure and pain, hope
and despair!
Piomingo. That ataraxia is only to be gained —
Frank. In the grave: "where the wicked cease from
troubling, and the weary are at rest."
Piomingo. So I find you are something of a sceptic:
why did you not propose your doubts, in the beginning,
to some of your teachers, in order that they might be
removed ?
Frank. Sol did: I went to our ghostly steward, who
furnished us on Sundays with our weekly allowance of
spiritual food, and modestly propounded certain queries.
He was astonished beyond measure that such a one
as I should presume to doubtof any of those things which
he himself believed. He dilated on the heinous nature
of the sin of unbelief, and exhorted me to beware of the
temptations of Satan. I told him that I was sincerely-
desirous of believing; hut that my mind was perplexed
with doubts, which I was in hopes his superior know-
ledge would be able to dissipate. I protested that I
was devotedly attached to the christian religion; that
I would not for ten thousand worlds behove it to be a
fiction; and that I came with genuine humility, and in
the simplicity of my heart, to ask information from my
spiritual instructor. I entreated that he would favor me
with half an hour's conversation; that he would give me
reasons on which to ground my belief; that he would
hear my objections patiently; in fine, that he would en-
gage in a friendly and familiar discussion of those im-
portant points which I had mentioned.
Piomingo. Well: what reply did he make to this hum-
ble solicitation?
Frank. He began a long and violent declamation,
something in the manner of a sermon; he quoted innu-
merable texts of scripture, taking for granted, all along,
THE SAVAGE. 205
the very points I wished to have proved; he poured
forth the terrors of the law like a torrent: and concluded
with an animated prayer for a hardened and unbeliev-
ing sinner.
Now this might be preaching; but reasoning it could
not be termed, with any propriety: and, as it was not
exactly preaching which I was desirous of hearing, I
ventured to suggest that I had often heard these things
from the pulpit; and as they had failed to produce con-
viction in my mind on those occasions, it was not to be
expected that thoy would have a more decisive effect at
present.
"Do, my dear sir," said I, "consider me, for the pre-
sent, as a Chinese or Hindoo. What arguments would
you use to convince such a one of the truth of the doc-
trines you teach?" "It is the hardness and wickedness of
yourabominableheart,"criedhe,"thatoccasionsyour un-
belief: I see you are lost." "My heart," said I, innocent-
ly, "is not wicked." "You lie!" said he in a fury, "you lie,
you reprobate! your heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately wicked.*'
I was a little abashed, as you may well suppose, with
this last argument; however, after some time, when I
saw he began to grow cool, I ventured to rejoin, "if I
know any thing of my own heart" — "You know nothing
of your own heart, poor fool!" said he, "you are in the
gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity."
As I found that no good would spring from this con-
ference, I began to think of taking my leave; but, being
desirous to know of what nature hisnextargument would
be, I added, "When we wish to establish any doctrine"
— "Let me have none of your philosophy and vain de-
ceit," said he, "I'll hear none of it. I deliver you over to
Satan to buffet you. Your blood be on your own head: I
have done my duty. You will soon believe and tremble
like your father the devil. I shake off the dust of my
feet as a testimony against you. I tell you again and
again, that it is the wicked malignity and enmity of
your heart against God, and every thing that is good,
S
206 THE SAVAGE.
which occasions your unbelief: you will not believe."
"If a man be not able," said I, "to see the truth of a
proposition, he cannot believe."
Enraged beyond measure at my pertinacity, he sprang
from his chair, and, seizing a flaming brand from the fire,
he shook it in my face exclaiming, "Believe, or you'll be
damned, you villain! believe or you'' 11 be damned I"
Piomingo. That was cogent reasoning, Frank: did
you reply?
Frank. No, indeed: I scampered off as fast as my feet
could carry me. I was then about seventeen years of
age: if any one were to reason with me in that manner
at present, I should certainly make use of a species of
argument that would not be easily answered.
Piomingo. Had you ever any further conversation
with this pattern of meekness and humility?
Frank. No. I frequently went afterwards to hear him
preach: and whenever he saw me enter the church, he
took occasion to denounce the judgments of the law up-
on a presumptuous unbeliever. I do candidly believe he
was angry with the Lord for permitting me to live upon
the earth: for I have seen him turn up his eyes, with an
air of angry expostulation, and say "why sleeps thy
thunder?*' He would frequently question his Maker con-
cerning the propriet}' of showing so much lenity and in-
dulgence to the dissolute and profane. You smile, Pio-
mingo — May this moment be my last, if he would not
address the creator of the world with as much ease and
confidence as I do my barber or shoemaker: and this
sanctified impertinence or blasphemous impudence he
dignified with the appellation of holy boldness. He would
threaten the Lord — Why do you stare, Piomingo? — ab-
solutely threaten him, and tell him, in a tone of defiance,
that he (the preacher) would take the kingdom of hea-
ven by storm. Nay, he would command the deity — I
»peak truth, Piomingo — as I command my servant; for
which he said he had scripture — "Command ye me."
Piomingo. This was a true member of the church mil-
itant. Such clergymen, I hope, are rarely to be found.
PTIIE SAVAGE. 207
Frank. There arc many such, among the calvinistic
societies. He was a celebrated preacher, remarkably
orthodox and sound in fundamentals.
Piomingo. But how did it happen that you connected
religion and politics in the manner you have mentioned?
Frank. Why, it has long been a prevailing opinion,
among various religious denominations, that those happy
times, which are promised by the prophets, would com-
mence about the beginning of the nineteenth century:
and we, who found ourselves within a few years of that
important period, confidently expected to see at least
the morning of that day when holiness to the Lord
should be written on the bells of the horses.
Whenever, by pouring out the curses of the law mixed
with a due proportion of the soothing promises of the
gospel, any sacred orator was able to excite a little sob-
bing and whining and blubbering among his auditors,
which was termed "a shaking among the dry bones," he
would immediately declare that the night was past, and
that he saw the appearance of day. — While we all stood
on tiptoe in order to perceive the first streaks of the
dawn, behold! we discerned the coruscations of the
French revolution! — A shout of joy and exultation was
raised by the multitude,
So wild, so loud, so clear,
E'en listening angels stooped from heaven to hear!
The wondering mountains, hills and rocks returned the
sound; the beasts of the field forgot to browse, and gazed
with astonishment at the madness of the people; the
dogs, in every direction, lifted up their voices and joined
the melodious howl of their masters!
One company would sing, "The day breaks, and
the shadows (lee away." A second would answer, "Lo!
the winter is past; the rain is over and gone." A third:
• "The (lowers appear on the earth; the time of the sing-
ing of birds is come." A fourth: "The voice of the tur-
tle is heard in our land." Then all would unite in full
chorus: "Glory to God in the highest; and peace and
good will among men."
208 THE SAVAGE.
While we were thus employed, we were astonished
at a bloody appearance in the eastern horizon. What
could occasion this singular phenomenon! The incident
was unexpected, and threw a damp on our joy. We
immediately had recourse to our prophetic books, and
without much difficulty discovered sundry oracular in-
timations of this wonderful event. For after an event
had actually taken place, we were extremely ingenious
at adjusting the prophecy t6 the circumstances; but
when we attempted, with.no other guide but prophecy,
to predict occurrences, we sometimes made little blun-
ders in our calculations. But alas! we were plunged
into utter despair when we perceived gloomy clouds of
infidelity, atheism and oppression to rise from the earth
and destroy those faint glimmerings of light which had
ravished our senses. "Behold, darkness covered the
earth; and gross darkness, tbe people!"
This dreadful disappointment 1 owe to the French:
help me to curse them.
Piomingo. The French are a gallant people?
Frank. They are a valiant people.
Piomingo. Are they not a good people?
Frank. They make good slaves, but execrable mas-
ters: I would as soon trust a madman with a firebrand
in a powder magazine, as Frenchmen with the manage-
ment of government.