TIMOTHY DWIGHT (1752-1817) For a generation Timothy Dwight was the representative New Englander just as Cotton Mather had been at an earlier day and Jonathan Edwards had been a century later. Scholar, theologian, preacher, college president, dominating personality, poet,-in every way he was what Dr. Holmes later was to call a leader of the New England Brahmin caste.' He was born at Northampton, Massachusetts, a town associated with the name of Edwards, and his mother was a daughter of that great divine. No child was ever more precocious: he was reading Latin at six, and he could have entered Yale at eight, but was held back until he was thirteen. At seventeen he was graduated with distinction and at nineteen he entered upon a six years' tutorship in the college. In 1771, the year of Freneau's Rising Glory of America, he began upon a ponderous epic in Heroic couplets, The Conquest of Canaan, founded upon the wars of Joshua. It was three years before he completed it and it was not until 1785 that it appeared in print to be reviewed in extenso by the poet Cowper. In 1777 he resigned as tutor to enter the continental army as a chaplain. During the year that he was with the troops he wrote the resonant, though somewhat overornate, lyric Columbia,' which must be classed as his best poetic effort. His Greenfield Hill, much admired in its day, a poem designed, in its author's words, to imitate the manner of several British Poets,' appeared in 1794. In 1795 Dwight accepted the presidency of Yale, a position which he filled with distinction during the rest of his life. Among theologians he is known for his Theology Explained and Defended, five volumes of doctrinal sermons preached before his students. One other book, Travels in New England and New York, a record of leisurely journeys during vacation periods. was published after his death. Had the author dared to forget himself and to descend from the stately eminence of his eighteenth century self-consciousness the book might have become a classic. As it is, it is seldom opened by modern readers. An illuminating treatment of Dwight may be found in Moses Coit Tyler's Three Men of Letters, 1895. ROYALL TYLER (1757-1826) Almost exactly contemporary with the typical early poet of the Middle States, Philip Freneau, was another fluent newspaper versifier and satirist, Royall Tyler, a native of Boston as Freneau was of New York, and a graduate of Harvard as Freneau was of Princeton. One may not, however, press the parallel far. Tyler was a New Englander to the core: he had studied law with John Adams, he had served in the Revolutionary army as aide-de-camp to General Lincoln, and finally he had settled in New Hampshire and then in Vermont as a lawyer and finally as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the latter state, easing ever the toils of his profession with his ready pen. His writings. which have never been collected, include among others a series of satirical poems and political squibs signed Colon and Spondee, a series of sprightly papers entitled An Author's Evenings, 1801, a romance of adventure, The Algerine Captive, 1797, and at least three comedies which were acted in New York and other places: The Contrast, May Day, or New York in an Uproar, 1787, and The Georgia Spec, or Land in the Moon, 1798. The first of these was written while in New York in 1787 while the author was in the city on business connected with the suppression of Shays' Rebellion and was acted at the John's Street Theater on April 16, of the same year. Tyler's chief claim to literary recognition is based upon the fact that his Contrast is the first native comedy and the second native play,- Thomas Godfrey's Prince of Parthia being the first, to be produced on the American stage by a professional company. The play itself. however, unlike Godfrey's, still merits attention: its 'Prologue' is the first American literary declaration of independence, and moreover, at least one of the characters in the comedy is alive, a genuine American product, the pioneer Yankee in a procession that has extended to our own day. Positively this Mall is a very pretty place. I hope the city won't ruin it by repairs. To be sure, it won't do to speak of in the same day with Ranelagh or Vauxhall; however, it's a fine place for a .5 young fellow to display his person to advantage. Indeed, nothing is lost. here; the girls have taste, and I am very happy to find they have adopted. the elegant London fashion of looking 30 back, after a genteel fellow like me has passed them. Ah! who comes here? This, by his awkwardness, must be the Yankee colonel's servant. I'll accost him. 35 humble serviteur, Monsieur. I understand Colonel Manly, the Yankee officer, has the honor of your serv- 40 ices. man shall master me: my father has as good a farm as the colonel. JESSAMY. Well, Sir, we will not quarrel about terms upon the eve of an acquaintance, from which I promise myself so much satisfaction, therefore sans ceremonie — JONATHAN. What? JESSAMY. I say, I am extremely happy to see Colonel Manly's waiter. JONATHAN. Well, and I vow, too, I am pretty considerably glad to see you but what the dogs need of all this outlandish lingo? Who may you be, Sir, if I may be so bold? JESSAMY. I have the honor to be Mr. Dimple's servant, or, if you please, waiter. We lodge under the same roof, and should be glad of the honor of your acquaintance. JONATHAN. You a waiter! By the liv ing jingo, you look so topping, I took you for one of the agents to Congress. JESSAMY. The brute has discernment notwithstanding his appearance. Give me leave to say I wonder then at your familiarity. JONATHAN. Why, as to the matter of that, Mr. pray, what's your name? JESSAMY. Jessamy, at your service. JONATHAN. Why, I swear we don't make any great matter of distinction in our state, between quality and other folks. JESSAMY. This is, indeed, a levelling principle. I hope, Mr. Jonathan, you have not taken part with the insurgents. JONATHAN. Why, since General Shays has sneaked off, and given us the bag to hold, I don't care to give my opinion; but you'll promise not to tellput your ear this way you won't tell? I vow, I did think the sturgeons were right. JESSAMY. I thought, Mr. Jonathan, you Massachusetts men always argued with a gun in your hand.— Why did n't you join them? I have it there's Elnathan, Silas, Barnabas, Jonathan, that 's I― seven of us, six went to the wars, and I staid at home to take care of mother. Colonel said that it was a burning shame for the 5 true-blue Bunker-hill sons of liberty, who had fought Governor Hutchinson, Lord North, and the Devil, to have any hand in kicking up a cursed dust against a government, which we had every 10 mother's son of us a hand in making. JESSAMY. Bravo! - Well, have you been abroad in the city since your arrival? What have you seen that is curious and entertaining? 15 JONATHAN. Oh! I have seen a power of fine sights. I went to see two marblestone men and a leaden horse, that stands out in doors in all weathers; and when I came where they was, one 20 had got no head, and t'other wer 'nt there. They said as how the leaden man was a damn'd tory, and that he took wit in his anger and rode off in the time of the troubles. . . JESSAMY. We have a number of elegant fine girls here, that make a man's leisure hours pass very agreeably. I would esteem it an honour to announce you to some of them. - Gad! that an- 30 nounce is a select word; I wonder where I picked it up. JONATHAN. I don't want to know them. JESSAMY. Come, come, my dear friend. 25 I see that I must assume the honour of 35 being the director of your amusements. Nature has given us passions, and youth and opportunity stimulate to gratify them. It is no shame, my dear Blueskin, for a man to amuse himself with 40 a little gallantry. JONATHAN. Girl huntry! I don't altogether understand. I never played at that game. I know how to play hunt the squirrel, but I can't play anything 45 with the girls; I am as good as married. JESSAMY. Vulgar, horrid brute! Married, and above a hundred miles from his wife, and think that an objection to his making love to every woman he 50 meets! He never can have read, no, ne never can have been in a room with a volume of the divine Chesterfield.So you are married? JONATHAN. No, I don't say so; I said I 55 was as good as married, a kind of promise. JESSAMY. As good as married! JONATHAN. Why, yes; there's Tabitha Wymen, the deacon's daughter, at home, she and I have been courting a great while, and folks say as how we are to be married; and so I broke a piece of money with her when we parted, and she promised not to spark it with Solomon Dyer while I am gone. You would n't have me false to my true love, would you? JESSAMY. May be you have another reason for constancy; possibly the young lady has a fortune? Ha! Mr. Jonathan, the solid charms; the chains of love are never so binding as when the links are made of gold. JONATHAN. Why, as to fortune, I must needs say her father is pretty dumb rich; he went representative for our town last year. He will give her - let me see four times seven is-seven times four-nought and carry one; he will give her twenty acres of landsomewhat rocky though—a bible, and a cow. JESSAMY. Twenty acres of rock, a bible, and a cow! Why, my dear Mr. Jonathan, we have servant maids, or, as you would more elegantly express it, wait'resses, in this city, who collect more in one year from their mistresses' cast clothes. JONATHAN. You don't say so! JESSAMY. Yes, and I'll introduce you to one of them. There is a little lump of flesh and delicacy that lives at next door, wait'ress to Miss Maria; we often see her on the stoop. JONATHAN. But are you sure she would be courted by me? JESSAMY. Never doubt it; remember a faint heart never- - blisters of my tongue-I was going to be guilty of a vile proverb; flat against the-authority of Chesterfield. I say there can be no doubt, that the brilliancy of your merit will secure you a favourable reception. JONATHAN. Well, but what must I say to her? JESSAMY. Say to her! why, my dear friend, though I admire your profound knowledge on every other subject, yet, you will pardon my saying, that your want of opportunity has made the female heart escape the poignancy of your penetration. Say to her! Why, when a man goes a-courting, and hopes |