Original research and riffs on Herman Melville, authorship, and nineteenth-century American literature.
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| Lansingburgh Democrat - August 9, 1849 |
"Our friend and late fellow townsman Herman Melville has just ready for the press a new work entitled "Redburn; his First Voyage: being the Sailor Boy's Confessions and Reminiscences of the Son of a Gentleman." It will appear simultaneously from the press of the Harpers, and Bently, in London."Related post:
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| Photo Credit: Stewart Ogilby |
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| New York Sun - January 5, 1914 |
TO THE EDITOR OF THE SUN--Sir: An article in your paper of December 26 in which reference was made to the almost worldwide popularity of the poem entitled "A Visit from St. Nicholas" leads me to ask whether it is true, as I have heard stated, that the Rev. Clement C. Moore never himself made any direct claim to the authorship of this poem, which has been attributed to him.
I ask this because the testimony which points to Major Henry Livingston as being its author appears to be too strong to be ignored, and it might be interesting to sift the evidence. Major Livingston lived near Poughkeepsie, in a house built by his grandfather, Gilbert Livingston, where, it is asserted by his children, he wrote the poem on a Christmas Eve, and read it to them the following morning. I have heard both a daughter and a granddaughter of Major Livingston say that they were present on that occasion and that the success of his poem in the home circle led Major Livingston to consent to its publication in a Poughkeepsie newspaper.
Neither the name of the newspaper nor the exact date of publication was remembered by them, but they were positive that it antedated by several years the publication of the poem in the Troy Sentinel. The original manuscript and a copy of the Poughkeepsie paper containing this first publication of the poem were in the possession of Major Livingston's oldest son for a great many years, but were lost after his death.
A letter in my possession, written by a daughter of Major Livingston in 1879, says: "I well remember our astonishment when we saw it [the poem] claimed as Clement C. Moore's many years after my father's decease, which took place more than fifty years ago. We have often said, 'The style is so exactly his; how would it be possible that another could express the same originality of thought, and use the same phrases, so familiar to us as father's!'"
I have heard it stated by the two ladies I have already referred to, daughter and granddaughter respectively of Major Livingston, and by his youngest son, that there was present as a guest in the house on the Christmas morning when the poem was read a young lady who derived so much pleasure from the reading of it that she requested Major Livingston to give her a copy, which he did. This lady, on leaving Major Livingston's house, went to the house of Mr. Moore, where she had been engaged as governess to his children. The testimony I have outlined is given in perfect good faith by people of the highest character.
How is one to sift the evidence? It would seem as if the only proof would be the date of first publication. Thinking that the newspaper in question might have been the Poughkeepsie Eagle, I applied at their office some years ago for permission to look over their back files of the 1820's, but was told that all had been destroyed in a fire that had burned out the Eagle office.
Major Livingston left a number of poems, all written with a light touch, and most of them in a humorous vein. A few were published in the local papers, but always, I believe, anonymously.
M. W. MONTGOMERY.
New York, January 3.
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| New York Sun - January 7, 1914 |
"That there should be any doubt as to Clement C. Moore's authorship of "A Visit from St. Nicholas" at this late day seems to be incomprehensible."
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| New York Sun - January 11, 1914 |
"Dr. Moore's entire life, which was always quiet, retiring and modest, does not admit of the slightest hint that he purposely or involuntarily assumed the robe of another poet."In 2008 Christie's handled a presentation copy of Moore's 1844 Poems inscribed to Nathaniel Paulding "from his old & sincere friend, the author."
"To Miss Southey | with the respects | of the author. | June, 1844." On the verso side of the half title page, the author has also added a line of correction for page 58.Glenn Books offers a presentation copy inscribed by Moore to "The Rev. Dr. Barry, with the respects of the author, Mar. 1846". The longest and perhaps most interesting inscription of all appears in the volume offered by Argosy Book Store. Moore presented this copy in Newport to a Dr. Raphall. The author's signed note reads
Newport, Sep. 2, 1850
Dear Sir,
I wish I had something to send you, better than this little book. But, such as it is, be pleased to accept it as a mark of respect from one of your much gratified auditors.
Clement C. Moore
Rev. Dr. Raphall --Argosy Book Store via AbeBooksThe Rev. Dr. Raphall can only be Morris Jacob Raphall who would become "the leading rabbi not only in New York—then the home of a quarter of the nation’s Jews—but in the country," as Howard B. Rock observes in his September 19, 2012 Tablet essay. As the Civil War began, Dr. Raphall also became famous for his controversial defense of slavery on biblical grounds.
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| Morris J. Raphall (1798-1868) via Library of Congress |
...very few English speaking Israelites knew the value and greatness of our Hebrew literature, and very few gentiles in England had a sound idea of Jew and Judaism. And at that time Dr. Raphall began to lecture and to write! A Jew lectures in English; in pure and sublime English; in the English of Addison, Hume, and Macaulay. What a marvel! And upon what subjects? Upon Hebrew poetry, upon rabbinical wisdom and literature!Arrived from Birmingham, England in 1849, Dr. Raphall lectured on Hebrew literature in Brooklyn, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, and Richmond. "It was poetry illustrating poetry" according to the Richmond Whig notice of March 26, 1850. In August 1850 the Newport synagogue temporarily reopened for Dr. Raphall's course of six lectures on biblical poetry. Moore the seminary Professor of Hebrew attended one or more lectures, obviously, and pronounced himself one of the eloquent rabbi's many "gratified auditors."
My friends, I am not able to adequately describe the salutary influence his lectures and writings exercised upon Jews and Gentiles, especially in England; the immense good he effected for Israel and his religion….
--"Memorial of Rev. Morris J. Raphall, Ph.D." in The Jewish Messenger, July 3, 1868
"errata corrections made by Moore in this book in his own handwriting."John David Ogilby (1810-1851) was a younger colleague of Clement C. Moore's at General Theological Seminary from 1841 to 1846. Former seminary student Clarence Augustus Walworth remembered Ogilby as an earnest controversialist, opposed both to "Romanism" and low-church fundamentalism. By contrast, Walworth recalled Clement C. Moore as "unconsciously" eccentric:
Santa Claus himself could not be more welcome to children than was this odd and genial man upon his appearance in the Hebrew class. He was very particular in his ways; but one great feature of his peculiarity was, that he was utterly unartificial. He was droll, but unconsciously so. He never joked in the class, but always something made the classroom seem merry when he was in it. He was a true scholar in Hebrew. His knowledge of Hebrew words did not seem to be derived from the dictionary alone. He knew each word familiarly, and remembered all the different places where it occurred in the Hebrew Bible, and so could prove its significance in one place by the meaning which necessarily attached to it elsewhere. --The Oxford Movement in AmericaAdditional volumes will probably emerge from time to time. For now we have identified ten copies of the 1844 Poems inscribed by Clement C. Moore, some with corrections apparently in his hand.
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| Le Massacre de Scio - Eugène Delacroix via Wikimedia Commons |
This Sarah Sackett of Troy is the former Sarah H. Pardee, wife of Daniel Sackett, a crockery and glassware merchant in Troy, New York. Norman Tuttle, publisher of the Troy Sentinel, identified Sarah Sackett as the person who had given a copy of Clement C. Moore's poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" to editor Orville L. Holley, back in December 1823. Other accounts involve Harriet Butler, daughter of Episcopal clergyman David Butler. As related for example in Troy's One Hundred Years, Harriet supposedly copied out the poem while visiting the Moore family and brought it back to Troy. Any sequence of transmission involving the Butlers, Sacketts, and Holley seems plausible. The families of Clement C. Moore and the Rev. David Butler were connected through longstanding ties of friendship and religion. Rev. Butler was then rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Troy (consecrated in 1806 by Moore's father, the Bishop). Butler in turn was socially and politically connected with Daniel Sackett and Orville Holley as leading citizens of Troy, and prominent Whigs. All three were founding members of the Troy Colonization Society.Troy, April 11th, 1827.Sir--You will receive per steamboat New London, Capt. Fitch, Merchandize, valued at $55, for the Greeks--twenty dollars of which, is a donation from the Female Industrious Society of the First Presbyterian Church, and the remaining thirty-five dollars, from individual ladies of this city. Though our offering be small, we hope it may contribute something to the current of benevolence which is setting to the relief of the oppressed and destitute people. Your's respectfully, in behalf of the donors.SARAH SACKETT.Stephen Allen, Esq. Ch'mn. Greek Com.
Henceforth there could be little question of the strength of Philhellenism in the United States; in America as elsewhere Byron’s dramatic self-sacrifice rendered the cause of Greek independence services which never can be repaid. The autumn and winter of 1823-1824 were a period in which sentiment for Greek independence reached a high point, strenuous efforts were put forth to render active assistance to the revolutionary forces, and serious consideration was given to a possible recognition of Greek belligerency and independence by the government of the United States.Coincidentally, contributions to the Greek Fund were being passionately solicited and publicized during the same holiday season of 1823-4 in which Clement C. Moore's "A Visit from St. Nicholas" made is first appearance in the Troy Sentinel. December 1823 marked the start of the Greek Fund as well as "The Night Before Christmas" tradition. The first meeting of Troy citizens on behalf of the oppressed Greeks generated $710 for the Greek Fund, as reported in a published letter from Esaias Warren:
--Edward Mead Earle, American Interest in the Greek Cause, 1821-1827
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| New York American - January 31, 1824 |
Troy, January 23, 1824.
Dear Sir--In compliance with a resolution, passed at a meeting of the citizens of this place, I have the pleasure of transmitting you, the annexed draft for $710, the amount contributed by them towards aiding the Greeks in their struggle against Turkish oppression.
I am, sir, respectfully.
Your obedient servant,
ESAIAS WARREN.
Wm. Bayard, Esq. Chairman of Greek Committee.Esaias Warren was then mayor of Troy, president of the Troy Bank, and a warden of the Butlers' church, St. Paul's Episcopal. Warren's mother Phebe and father Eliakim had been instrumental in establishing St. Paul's in Troy. Indeed, at first the Warrens and Lemuel Hawley were the church. Esaias Warren became "senior warden" after his father's death in 1824, according to Hudson-Mohawk Genealogical and Family Memoirs.
"spoke of the contest as one in which religion, knowledge and liberty, were staked against infidelity, ignorance and slavery--as one in which refinement and cultivation were opposed to brutal sensuality--as one in which all that is valuable in civilization was opposed by all that is degraded in barbarism." --New York American, December 6, 1823Meeting on Tuesday night, December 30, 1823 at Creigier's Tavern with his 9th ward neighbors, Clement C. Moore endorsed the resolution of support and volunteered for the fundraising committee.
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| New York Evening Post - January 2, 1824 |
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| New York Evening Post - January 2, 1824 |
Resolved, That we cordially approve of the exertions making by our fellow citizens in this city, and in various parts of the Union to raise by subscription, a sum of money to aid the Greeks in their struggle, with their barbarous and inhuman oppressors, for religious and civil freedom.The best known American poets contributed heroic verses in support of Greek independence:
Resolved, That the following be the committee to district the ward and wait on the inhabitants in aid of the Greek Fund....
"In imitation of Byron, poets and literary men like William Cullen Bryant and Fitz-Greene Halleck wielded their pens in stout defense of the Greeks, in whom they saw heroic descendants of classic forefathers." --Edward Mead Earle, American Interest in the Greek Cause, 1821-1827In 1826, Herman Melville's older brother Gansevoort recited Halleck's pro-Greek "Marco Bozzaris" at the New York High School. Around 1827 or 1828 (my best guess for now), Clement C. Moore composed "To the Nymphs of Mount Harmony." Moore's allegory of Ottoman tyranny and Greek suffering unfolds as the tale of a captive elf, whispered in the "wond'ring ear" of an Arcadian shepherd. Though drenched in the conventions and mythology of pastoral poetry, Moore's manner of describing the shepherd's "wond'ring ear" nicely harmonizes with the speaker's famously "wondering eyes" in "The Night Before Christmas." Transcribed below from the only known printing in Moore's 1844 Poems.
TO THE NYMPHS OF MOUNT HARMONY.
An idle swain late chanc'd to roam
Beneath a grove's leaf-lattic'd dome,
That near a verdant mount was plac'd
Whose brow no title e'er had grac'd
Till nymphs declared the mount should claim
Sweet Harmony's inspiring name.
Here, as the swain at even strayed,
Wooed by the grove's sequester'd shade,
With thoughts unfix'd, and vacant eye,
And idly sad, he scarce knew why;
A mournful spirit of the wood,
Touch'd haply, by his kindred mood,
Soft-sighing from a hawthorn near,
Thus whisper'd in his wond'ring ear.
"A sprite I was, in happier times,
Disporting in the favor'd climes
Of early Greece; when freedom's ray
Bade mirth through all her regions play;
When wood-nymphs with their huntress-queen,
The muses and the loves were seen
To sport, like fauns, beside each rill,
And deck, like flow'rets, every hill,
'Twas then I serv'd the lighter joys
Of rural nymphs and sylvan boys;
And, sportive as the summer airs,
Exulted in my frolic cares.
" Oft, to a playful zephyr chang'd.
Along the reedy banks I rang'd;
Or, sighing o'er the oaten field,
I tried the note each stalk would yield,
In quest of dulcet tones to suit
Some favor'd fawn's or shepherd's flute.
"Oft, in a fleecy vapor's guise,
The zephyrs bore me to the skies:
Where, 'midst the clouds with thunder fraught,
The rainbow's brightest tints I caught;
Then, melting into finest dews,
Distributed the lovely hues
To opening buds, or full-blown flowers,
Round naiad's couch, or wood-nymph's bowers.
"Oft, in a virgin lily's bell,
I caught the purest dews that fell,
With chaste suffusion to supply
Some weeping Muse's languid eye.
For, tears that from the Muses flow.
Unlike the drops of vulgar wo,
Emit the dew's inconstant gleam,
And soon are chas'd by pleasure's beam —
"Dear airy partners in delight!
Who skimm'd, like mists, the mountain's height,
Or danc'd along the limpid stream
Illum'd by freedom's golden beam!
Ye perish'd in the floods and gales
That ruin'd all our smiling vales,
And chill'd and wither'd every bloom
In tyranny's detested gloom!
"A fiend that in the tempest flew
On wing still wet with stygian dew
Rapt me in a hurling blast
Athwart the ocean's dreary vast;
And set me, with infernal spell,
In this sequester'd grove to dwell.
Here, in my lonely prison bound,
Beset with dire enchantments round,
I've seen whole ages ling'ring go.
With scarce a solace for my wo;
Till late, beneath the neighb'ring shades,
Methought a band of Tempe's maids,
With all their wonted mirth elate,
Came, destin'd by relenting fate,
Their long, long rovings here to cease,
And charm my anguish into peace.
For, as they gambol'd o'er the green,
Once more I saw Arcadia's scene;
Again I heard each well-lov'd voice
That bade the Aonian hills rejoice.
But soon the lovely vision pass'd.
Through lonely shades now sweeps the blast,
Where, late, the fairy-footed throng
Prolong'd the dance, or pour'd the song.
If e'er thy bosom, gentle swain,
Was touch'd with sympathetic pain.
Hie thee to where the nymphs now dwell,
And all my sorrows kindly tell.
And say, if e'er this lone retreat
Their lovely band again shall greet,
I'll wake my long-neglected powers;
Refine the dews, new-tint the flowers.
I'll fringe the trees with speckled moss.
And give their leaves a finer gloss.
The painted fly shall learn to fling
Sweet odors from his gaudy wing.
I'll winnow, with my silken sails,
Each noxious breath that taints the gales;
With sweeter strains the birds inspire,
And lead, myself, the tuneful choir. --Clement C. Moore
Moore's 1844 collection Poems is also available online courtesy of HathiTrust Digital Library.Related posts:
Lines written after a snow-storm, 1824 and 1844 versions
https://melvilliana.blogspot.com/2019/04/lines-written-after-snow-storm-by.html
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| via Find a Grave |
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| From Old New York via The New York Public Library - Digital Collections |
"Melville considered Dr. Francis an intimate friend all through the 1850's, a time when Dr. Francis in public addresses and writing spoke admiringly of Melville and Tuckerman in the same breath." --Historical Note - Published PoemsMelville's friend and sometime host was Clement C. Moore's very close friend and family physician, too. Henry T. Tuckerman testified to their long connection, and the wonderful, "cosmopolitan" breadth of the Doctor's associations, in his biographical introduction to Francis's Old New York:
But so large was the tolerance and so vivid the humanity of Dr. Francis, that while he was justly considered a thorough representative of the Knickerbocker character,—to whom the New Year's festival, as characteristic of his father's Nuremberg home as of Dutch hospitality, and his old friend Clement Moore's household rhymes of Santa Claus, with the annual schnapps and pipes of this local saint, brought such genial inspiration,—he yet thoroughly enjoyed the thrifty and intellectual example of the Yankee, welcomed the persecuted foreigner, and found delight in the spectacle of variety of race and customs, of excitements and phenomena which transformed, before his eyes, the town, where every one he met was an acquaintance, into the kaleidoscope of modern New York. Indeed, he recognized this expansive destiny in the natural advantages of the island, whose bay and climate Verazzano eulogized centuries ago, and whose noble river Hudson laid open to the Dutch West India Company, whence dates her commercial development. These divers associations only knit the bond of nativity in and identity with New York more strongly. To him, the Jay homestead at Bedford was as endeared because of its Huguenot as the Stuveysant estate for its Dutch traditions; the Tory families of Westchester, the old Episcopal exclusiveness, the wise Rabbis of the Synagogue, and the proscribed Unitarian from Boston, found their due historical and social consideration in his retrospective thought; and the arrival of a Japanese embassy or the Prince of Wales made him a holiday as well as the festivals of St. Nicholas; and loyal as he was to old New York, and proud of Motley's splendid vindication of the Dutch character, he none the less cheerfully grew cosmopolitan with the modern city; and only protested, with a magnetic zeal, alike individual and persuasive, that her Past should not be forgotten amid the absorbing claims of her Present, and the expanding promise of her Future. --Old New YorkClement C. Moore was one of the pallbearers at the funeral of Lorenzo Da Ponte on August 20, 1838. Attending physician Dr Francis led the train of mourners, as noted in the 1868 article on Lorenzo Da Ponte by Henry T. Tuckerman.
"Beyond Herman Melville, nineteenth-century literary figures like Washington Irving (a trustee), John Romeyn Brodhead (an early historian of New York), Clement Clark Moore, and William Cullen Bryant were all members of the Society Library...."
Melville's Not the Only One | New York Society Library
Now my original business—that of a conveyancer and title hunter, and drawer-up of recondite documents of all sorts —was considerably increased by receiving the master’s office. There was now great work for scriveners. Not only must I push the clerks already with me, but I must have additional help. In answer to my advertisement, a motionless young man one morning, stood upon my office threshold, the door being open, for it was summer. I can see that figure now—pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn! It was Bartleby. --Bartleby, the Scrivener
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| New York Daily Tribune - October 12, 1847 |
WANTED—An experienced copyist. Apply to ALLAN MELVILLE, 12 Wall-st.You can see the whole page three of the Tribune with Allan Melville's advertisement amidst similar notices in the online file of Historic American Newspapers at Chronicling America:
“If not during 1844, the subject of Allan’s legal career would have surely come up in the autumn of 1847 when the newlyweds Herman and Lizzie secured a residence at 103 Fourth Avenue in New York City, thanks largely to Allan’s assistance…. Herman, Allan, and their new families resided together at the very time Allan would have lost his position in Chancery." --Warren Broderick on Bartleby, Allan Melville and Chancery
my soul’s to madness wroughtIn revision, Moore replaced "forms" with "visions" and changed the end rhymes:
By forms which fly like meteors in my thought!
I'm madden'd with delightMoore deleted two couplets of imagined censure by "moralists and dull divines," and weakened their supposed authority by changing "purists" to casuists." Moore also changed "pas battu" to "pigeon-wing"; and "ever-willing belles" became "ever-ready" in revision. He changed "which" to "that" and normalized archaic spellings of "frolick," "eccentrick," and "panick." In the last line, the belle's carefree perspective prevails over that of the moralizing poet, when "starch morality" mockingly replaces the former, heavy-handed concern with endangered salvation.
By visions flying round, as meteors bright.
CONGRATULATORY LINES.
Addressed to the fashionable people of New-York upon their return to the city, after the disappearance of the yellow-fever. BY A LADY.
The previous spring, on May 24, 1804, the Evening Post had published Moore's "Lines to the Fashionable" over the pseudonym "Florio."Dread pestilence hath now fled far away;
And life and health, once more around us play.
The din of commerce spreads from street to street;
Long-parted friends with new-warm'd friendship meet.
Now many-color'd nymphs, in noon-tide rows,
To gazing eyes fresh-gather'd charms disclose.
Welcome; all welcome to your wish'd abodes,
But chiefly you who’re skill'd in pleasure's modes;
Whose minds on humbler themes ne’er deign to dwell,
Receive the welcome of a veteran Belle
Whose heart's now dancing at the visions bright
Of high exploits which play in fancy's sight.
Now haste we to our winter's lov'd campaign,
Arm'd for the glorious contests we maintain;
Not wars of prudish belles with forward beaux
(These but inure to strife with real foes)
But wars with all the rules grave matrons teach,
Cold purity applauds, and parsons preach.
Courage, dear friends! our cause shall yet prevail:
But there are notions, hatch'd from doctrines stale,
'Gainst which 'twere well your valorous souls to guard;
For trifles oft e'en conquerors retard.
We're told by moralists and dull divines
That no pursuit becomes us which confines
Our highest wishes to mere sensual joys,
And thought of dread futurity destroys.
But most they deem morality disgrac’d
When those who’ve just by threat’ning death been chas’d
Soon as the danger’s o’er, with ten-fold glee,
Return to idle sports and revelry.
They hold it not, indeed, true wisdom’s part
To wear grief's impress ever in the heart,
But think the oblivious temper of our mind
For noble purposes by Heaven design'd;
To aid mortality beneath the weight
Of evils which oppress our tottering state;
To check despair, and give our reason play;
Reason, which calls from anxious cares away;
And teaches to behold, with minds serene
The joys and ills that crowd life's motley scene.
Try now this antique stuff by reason's test.
All science and all rules of action rest
On few clear principles assum'd as true.
The rule we, frolick's children, keep in view
Is this plain truth, whence all true precepts flow;
“Pleasure's the worthiest object man can know:”
Not pleasure felt by intellect alone;
Nor dreams of bliss in distant prospect shown;
But solid pleasure, present and secure,
All that can flatter passion, sense allure.
Let no vain fears this golden maxim hide,
But let heart-chilling laws by this be tried;
Then mark how emptily these croakers prate
Of what becomes [1844: beseems] our frail inconstant state.
Our frailty well we know; and 'tis for this
We should forget futurity's abyss,
And snatch from ruthless time each proffer’d joy.
Shall we, like drowsy dotards, e'er destroy
Our blissful sports by thought, of ills the worst
With which humanity by Heav’n is curs’d?
Thought! which forever tells some hateful truth;
Says wintry age soon chills [1844: must chill] the glow of youth;
To towering strength decrepitude foretells,
And wrinkles to the cheek where beauty dwells?
No! but this once the unruly traitor use
Then drive the fiend forever from your breasts;
On thoughtlessness alone your pleasure rests.
‘Tis true, we’ve just been chas’d by panick fears:
Whence sure ‘tis wise to claim the due arrears
Of pleasure thus detain'd, and to our store
Of present joys add those withheld before.
Let listless drones serenity approve;
In no dull medium let us deign to move.
Society is like a running wheel;
All parts the same progressive impulse feel;
And yet towards happiness, the general end,
These various parts with different motions tend.
Calm conscientious minds the centre hold;
While we are in the swift circumference roll'd.
Those at the centre keep an even way;
We in eccentrick movements round them play.
In quick vicissitudes we're whirl'd around;
Now rais'd on high, now low upon the ground.
We spurn the safe unchanging course they keep;
And while they calmly take their central sleep,
We rush like wind; we make the sparkles fly;
We raise the dust, and plunge through wet and dry;
We splash the folk, and make the world all know,
Our rattling shall be heard where'er we go.
"Enough of argument"; I hear you cry,
"Where pleasure calls we'll like the lightning fly.”
Come then, ye honour’d [1844: lofty] favourers of the dance
And splendid feast, whom fortune's gifts advance
To eminence in Fashion's wide domain;
Whose bright example leads a mimic train,
With eager steps, your flowery paths to tread;
Whose ire all deprecate with deeper dread
Than wrath of Heav'n (for how can Heav'n assist
The heart which mourns an invitation miss'd?)
Come forth with all your gay munificence,
And teach mankind that true pre-eminence
In dignity from outward grandeur springs;
That they rise highest in the scale of things
At whose command the guests most numerous throng;
Whose halls ring oftenest with the dance and song;
Who Nature's ill-fram'd laws most boldly slight;
Convert the night to day, and day to night;
Decrepitude in youthful sports engage;
And teach to youth the confidence of age.
To arms! ye ever-willing belles, to arms!
Sharpen each glance, and brighten all your charms.
Arouse! ye gallant beaux, at Fashion’s call:
She, to excuse you from the feast or ball,
Will heed no specious plea by sloth alledg'd,
And chiefly you, ye beaux with chins unfledg'd,
Who wisely quit your Algebra and Greek,
True honour in our well throng'd school to seek;
Now quickly muster all your hopeful band,
Train'd by our care, the glory of the land.
How bright ye shine beyond those awkward clowns
Who care for none but their preceptor's frowns;
Who heed their noisy sports and cross-grain'd books
More than the fairest fair-one's sweetest looks.
Men are too oft by this persuasion led;
Beneath the unpolish’d sage too oft they place
The beau who walks and dances with a grace.
But you, ne'er let your learned feet forget
Their chassez, pas battu and pirouette;
And let mankind by your example know,
The head's no worthier member than the toe.
Ye tawny minstrels; wake your viols sweet
Whose measures guide our lightly tripping feet;
Our life, depriv'd of you, were worse than death,
Your heav’nly notes are pleasure's vital breath.
How oft doth gloom the crowded hall pervade;
In vain the hostess smiles, the beaux upbraid;
Soon fly the whispers, and [1844: The whispering murmurs rise,] the gape goes round;
Decorum's self in weariness is drown'd.
But let your magic string's approaching twang
Be heard, and feast of Comus sure ne'er rang
With keener ecstacy, and mirth more loud
Than burst tumultuous from the wakening crowd.
Thus, when some bark's becalm'd upon the deep,
The listless passengers lie press'd with sleep
And lassitude; the moments scarce creep by;
And Sol seems weary as he climbs the sky.
But when some skilful mariner foresees,
By tokens sure, the fair approaching breeze,
Then instant life appears in every part;
All spring alert, for joy fills every heart;
With various notes the coming breeze they hail,
Strain every rope, and set each swelling sail.
Ye powers of sport! my soul’s to madness wrought
By forms which fly like meteors in my thought!
Cotillions, concerts, fiddlers, mirth's whole train
Of countless joys rush wildly through my brain.
Oh! may the phrenzy catch from soul to soul;
May all who now own sober law's controul
Acknowledge law mere breath, mere ink and paper,
And sacrifice salvation for a caper!
FOR THE EVENING POST.
MR. COLEMAN,
It is hoped that the cause which the following lines are intended to serve, will induce you to excuse the faults which they contain. And if the strife and tumult of politics have afforded you leisure, for a year past, to look into the fashionable world, you must acknowledge that they are not guilty of any misrepresentation.
Ye gentle Fair [blooming nymphs], our ornament [country's joy] and pride,
Who in the stream of Fashion thoughtless glide;
No modish lay, no melting strain of love
Is here pour'd forth, your tender hearts to move—
Yet, think not envious age inspires the song,
Rejecting all our earth-born joys as wrong:
Suspect [Think me] no matron stern, who would repress
Each modern grace, each harmless change of dress;
But one whose heart exults to join the band,
Where joy and innocence go hand in hand.
One who, while modesty maintains her place,
That sacred charm which heightens every grace,
Complacent views [sees] your robes excell the snow,
Or borrow colors from the painted [1844: aerial] bow;
But dreads the threaten'd hour of Virtue's flight,
More than the pestilence which walks by night.
Say, in those half rob'd bosoms are there hid,
No thoughts which shame and purity forbid?
Why do those fine-wrought veils around you play,
Like mists which scarce bedim the orb of day?
What mean those careless limbs, that conscious air,
At which the modest blush, the vulgar stare?
Can spotless minds endure the guilty leer,
The sober matron's frowns, the witling's sneer?
Are these the charms which, in this age refin'd,
Insure [Ensure] applause, and captivate the mind?
Are these your boasted powers? are these the arts
Which kindle love, and chain inconstant hearts?
Alas! some angry pow'r, some envious [envious] demon's skill
Has [1844: Hath] wrought this strange perversity of will:
For sure some foe to innocence beguiles,
When harmless doves attempt the serpent's wiles,
True, Fashion's laws her ready vot'ries screen,
And ogling beaux exclaim, Oh, goddess! queen!
But, low [vile] the praise and adoration sought
By arts degrading to each nobler thought.
A base-born love those notes of praise inspires--
That incense rises from unhallowed sires.
If deaf while shame and purity complain,
If reason's gentle voice be heard [rais'd] in vain;
Learn from the flowers which deck those bosoms white
What charms alone can give unmix'd delight—
[Those flowers you cull with such instinctive art,
Shall teach the charms that captivate the heart.
1844: Learn from the scented nosegay in your hand
The charms that can alone true love command.]
The flaunting tulip you reject with scorn,[1844: Tell them, that cruel and unjust their ire;
Though ting'd with ev'ry hue which can adorn [Its hues tho' brilliant as the tints of morn:] And careful, search for humbler flowers which bloom [But search with care, for humbler flowers that bloom]
Beneath the grass, yet scatter sweet perfume,
The buds which only half their sweets disclose
You fondly seize; but leave the full blown rose.
Humble the praise, and trifling the regard,
Which ever wait upon the moral bard.
But, there remains a hateful truth unsung
Which burns the cheek, and faulters on the tongue;
And which, if modesty be more than sound [still hover round]
With shame each virgin bosom must confound. [Each virgin breast, with sorrow must confound.]
These modes becoming [graceful modes], say your flattering beaux,
From ancient times, and tastes refin'd arose.
Disgrace not thus the names of Greece and Rome,
Their birth-place must be sought for nearer home.
Shame! shame! heart-rending thought! Disgraceful [deep sinking] stain!
That Britain's and Columbia's Fair should deign,
Should ev'ry art employ, to dress, to dance [Nay, strive their native beauties to enhance,]
Though virtue blush, [By arts first taught by] like prostitutes of France!*
Oh! Modesty, and Innocence! sweet pair
Of dove-like sisters! still attend our Fair.
Teach them how vain, without your [heavn'ly] influence,
Are all [How vain] he charms of beauty, or of sense.
Invest them with your radiance mild, yet bright;
And give their sparkling eyes a softer light.
Enchanting [1844: Quick mantling] dimples on their cheeks bestow;
And teach [bid] them with a purer red to glow.
Let winning smiles, too from [round] those dimples gleam,
Like [sportive] moon-beams sporting on [o'er] the ruffled [curling] stream.
[1844: Like moon-beams on the ruffled stream.]
And if resentment should [on] the Muse attend,
Who thus presumes to shew herself your friend; [From those she loves, and truly would befriend:]
Tell them how cruel and unjust their ire;
How pure the feelings which this strain [these lays] inspire;
How pants her heart, those graces to secure [oft she sighs, those beauties to impart,]
Which constant love, and endless praise ensure [charm the soul, and meliorate the heart.]
FLORIO.Moore's poem "To the Fashionable" was reprinted at the end of A New Translation with Notes, of the Third Satire of Juvenal by Moore's friend John Duer. The 1806 Port-Folio review of Duer's volume sharply criticized Moore's contributions. The reviewer made fun of Moore's immature, hyper-critical preface and derided the appended contributions as morally sound but aesthetically vapid.
*Dr. Barrow, in his treatise on education, vol. 2, p 305, says, "Our young women are probably little aware that the fashionable nakedness of the present day was first adopted in this country in imitation of the revolutionary prostitutes of France."
We have made no secret of the disgust excited in our minds by the critical preface to this volume. But the author of the preface, too, appears before us as a poet. "This and the following pieces, subscribed L, was given me by the friend who furnished the introductory letter; most of them have been already published, either in the Port Folio, or in the New-York Evening Post." Really this gentleman gives and furnishes with profusion! he gives too, it appears, what he had given elsewhere before; and this second-hand sort of gift must be infinitely valuable:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes!
The note, just transcribed, is appended to the lines from which we have already extracted the beautiful and delicate images, and which the author’s primary concern (and certainly a very allowable one) is, not to be thought an old woman. --The Port-FolioIn the last sentence the reviewer has humorously paraphrased Moore's plea, "Think me no Matron stern."
"Sound sentiments are truisms; what we expect from the poet is, to deliver them in beautiful terms. He that does this, is a poet; he that does not, is none." --The Port-FolioNot surprisingly, neither one of these early ventures was selected for inclusion in The New-York Book of Poetry, the 1837 anthology of well-regarded fugitive pieces by natives of New York State. Besides "A Visit from St. Nicholas," three additional poems there by "C. C. Moore" are
You have awaken'd in my breastAs shown in a previous post, Moore's Lines Written after a Snow-Storm originally appeared, like "A Visit from St. Nicholas," in the Troy Sentinel. "To the Sisters of Charity" (signed "SILVIO") appeared in the New York American on April 15, 1834. "Sisters of Charity" was reprinted in The Churchman, and later the Philadelphia Catholic Herald, August 28, 1834.
Some chords I ne'er before had known;
And you've imparted to the rest
A stronger pulse, a deeper tone.
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| via Boston College University Libraries |
"August 5. Whale Ship Elizabeth came in from a cruise having lost her Captain and a boat's crew, in taking a whale." --Abstract of a cruise, page 8Here is the page on Nukahiva...
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| Abstract of a cruise in the frigate United States via Boston College University Libraries |
The description of Tahiti is mostly copied verbatim from a piece in the Army and Navy Chronicle for December 17, 1840 titled Notes of a Circumnavigator—No. I. Otaheite. Interestingly, the abstract supplies information about the naming of Point Venus that the 1840 article lacks. Where the "Circumnavigator" parenthetically admitted ignorance ("whence named I know not") the Abstract informs:Nukahiva
On the 6th of October we made the Island of Nukahiva. The Harbor is not visible from Seaward on account of Intervening Rocks. it is completely Ironbound and near the entrance of the Strait or Gut, which leads to the Harbor, are two immense Rocks, called the Sentinels, one of which has a streak of White Sandstone and the other a cross of the same which points to the Harbor. Heading in and sailing for about 3/4 of a mile you came suddenly in one of the safest harbor's in the world. It is in Shape of a Horse Shoe, the entrance being very small in going in we could almost throw a biscuit on Shore from either bow. The view of this Steep and lofty Island is truly Sublime and Beautiful, it is completely covered with the brightest verdure and enlivened with numerous hills.
We found the French in possession of the Island having built a Fort on the Site Chosen by Commodore Porter the remains of which are being used in building theirs. They are sending their Convicts from France and peopling the Island, they take a Wife from the Inhabitants, with or without their Consent, and at this rate in a few years they will speak the French Language altogether. They live in Tents, pitched around the Fort, and it is not safe for them to venture outside the limits of their Sentries. The Inhabitants are Cannibals and are Continually at war with each other, the Prisoners they take they eat. Their appearance is terrific and they are tattoo'd from head to foot. On the 7th of October we got underweigh with the French boats ahead, and stood out to Sea, bound to the Society Islands, and on the 12th of October, dropped Anchor at Matavia Bay, Island of Otaheite.
"so named by Captn Cook, as it was the only Planet he could get a correct Observation of from that Point."For future reference and study, links below are to "Notes of a Circumnavigator" in the Army and Navy Chronicle:
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| via Library of Congress |
And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,Clement C. Moore liked the word brain so much he used it twenty times in his poetry, not counting "settled our brains" in A Visit from St. Nicholas, aka "The Night Before Christmas." Henry Livingston maybe speaks of "brains" one time only, in one poem that he might or might not have written: Filly and Wolf, where the wolf got its brains kicked out by the clever and spirited filly.
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.... --A Visit from St Nicholas
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snowIf you want to try this at home, here are links to searchable texts that Mary S. Van Deusen provides on the aforementioned Livingston site:
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below... --A Visit from St. Nicholas
... The above is printed immediately over some lines, describing a visit from St. Nicholas, which I wrote many years ago, I think somewhere between 1823 and 1824, not for publication, but to amuse my children. They, however, found their way, to my great surprise, in the Troy Sentinel: nor did I know, until lately, how they got there. When "The New York Book" was about to be published, I was applied to for some contribution to the work. Accordingly, I gave the publisher several pieces, among which was the "Visit from St. Nicholas." It was printed under my name, and has frequently since been republished, in your paper among others, with my name attached.
Under these circumstances, I feel it incumbent on me not to remain silent, while so bold a claim, as the above quoted, is laid to my literary property, however small the intrinsic value of that property may be.
The New York Book was published in 1827 [1837].
Yours, truly and respectfully,
CLEMENT C. MOORE
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| New York American - March 1, 1844 |
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| [Providence] Rhode-Island American - March 2, 1824 |
... Mrs. MacNutt was Miss Margaret Ogden, a granddaughter of Clement C. Moore, the scholar, poet and musician, widely known as the author of “ 'Twas the Night Before Christmas" and “Lines Written After a Snowstorm.” --The Overland MonthlyIt makes a neat companion piece with "The Night Before Christmas." As pointed out in our last, Moore addresses his meditative "Lines Written after a Snow Storm" to his kids. And as Stephen Nissenbaum aptly remarks, the poem
could almost be titled "The Morning after Christmas." --There Arose Such a Clatter
http://commonplace.online/article/there-arose-such-a-clatter/
LINES
WRITTEN AFTER A SNOW-STORM.
COME children dear, and look around;Related posts:
Behold how soft and light
The silent snow has clad the ground
In robes of purest white.
The trees seem deck'd by fairy hand,
Nor need their native green;
And every breeze appears to stand,
All hush'd, to view the scene.
You wonder how the snows were made
That dance upon the air,
As if from purer worlds they stray'd,
So lightly and so fair.
Perhaps they are the summer flowers
In northern stars that bloom,
Wafted away from icy bowers
To cheer our winter's gloom.
Perhaps they're feathers of a race
Of birds that live away,
In some cold dreary wintry place,
Far from the sun's warm ray.
And clouds, perhaps, are downy beds
On which the winds repose;
Who, when they rouse their slumb'ring heads,
Shake down the feath'ry snows.
But see, my darlings, while we stay
And gaze with fond delight,
The fairy scene soon fades away,
And mocks our raptur'd sight.
And let this fleeting vision teach
A truth you soon must know —
That all the joys we here can reach
Are transient as the snow.
