Unit 2

AMERICAN LITERATURE LIFEPAC 2THE ROMANTIC PERIOD

1800–1855

CONTENTS

I. A NEW NATION 1800–1840 • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 1INTRODUCTION • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 1Washington Irving • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 5James Fenimore Cooper • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 17William Cullen Bryant • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 24

II. AMERICAN RENAISSANCE 1840–1855 • • • • • • • • • • • 30INTRODUCTION • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 30THE FIRESIDE POETS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 32Henry Wadsworth Longfellow • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 33John Greenleaf Whittier • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 35Oliver Wendell Holmes • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 40

THE TRANSCENDENTALISTS • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 42Ralph Waldo Emerson • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 42Henry David Thoreau • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 45Walt Whitman • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 50

III. THE POETS OF DESPAIR • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 56Edgar Allen Poe • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 56Nathaniel Hawthorne • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 60Herman Melville • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 70Emily Dickinson • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 77

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AMERICAN LITERATURE LIFEPAC 2THE ROMANTIC PERIOD: 1800–1855

OBJECTIVES1. Gain an overview of influential American events during this period of history.2. Understand the philosophy of the Romantic writers.3. Recognize how the Romantic writers departed from biblical Christianity.4. Identify Romantic characteristics in the writings of major authors.5. Identify the birth of a distinctively American literature.6. Understand the philosophy of the transcendentalists.7. Understand the differences between the biblical view of man and the

Romantic view of man.8. Recognize some of the influences that transcendentalism has had on the

modern age.9. Identify the lingering effects of Puritanism on some of the era’s most

prominent writers.

VOCABULARYabolitionist - a person who desired to abolish slaveryadulation - praiseapprehension - to gain understanding through insightcoterie - a group that meets on the basis of similar interestschaos - absence of orderaversion - dislikedisdain - hateemaciated - very thinintuition - knowledge gained apart from reasoninglustrous - shiningobeisance - a gesture showing respectomniscient - all knowingomnipresent - present everywheretranscend - to exceed the limits ofcountenance - expression of the face

I. A NEW NATIONINTRODUCTION

As the United States entered the nineteenth century, independence had not beencompletely won. Culturally, Americans still wrote, sang, and painted like Englishmen.There was yet to be a revolution of the arts. The struggle for political freedom whichhad been long and difficult, solidified only after a “second war for independence” in1812. Similarly, the birth of a distinctively American culture was not accomplishedquickly.

“Our Standard. The Old World ideals—both social and cultural—were still firm-ly rooted in the minds of every American. European ideals were the standard bywhich all things were judged. However, wanting full independence, many Americanssought to diassociate themselves from Europe. If there was to be a new nation madeup of a new sort of people, then a particular style of expression had to be created.Noah Webster, the father of the American dictionary, declared, “As an independentnation, our honor requires us to have a system of our own, in language as in govern-ment. Great Britain, whose children we are, and whose language we speak, should nolonger be our standard.”

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As “children” of the Old World, Americans needed to gain respect from the olderEuropean nations. America had yet to grow into the world power that it is today. Itsexpanding borders and ever-increasing population caused constant change. With theLouisiana Purchase in 1803, the United States was suddenly larger than mostEuropean countries. The addition opened up a new frontier. The prairie, with its flatfertile land, presented the young country with a wealth of resources. From 1815–1860,five million immigrants poured into the country. For the most part, they were hopefulfarmers from Britain, Ireland, and Germany. The optimistic spirit that they broughthelped to fuel advances in farming, transportation, and industry. The reaping machineand the steel plow quickened the cultivation of soil and helped to feed the boomingnumbers of people who came to depend on the new technologies. Canals and railroadsunited distant communities by establishing transportation routes between the states.With the invention of the telegraph, news spread quickly from distant lands. Distancewas no longer so formidable a barrier to the exchange of information.

Democracy in America. America was the land of possibilities. Equipped withthe Yankee virtues of hard work and determination, even the most destitute per-son of Europe could live like a king, or even become president. One such per-son did. Known as the “People’s President,” Andrew Jackson was elected in1828. He fought for the rights of the common man. During his term of office,legislation was passed awarding nonproperty-owning white men the right tovote. This law was a seemingly small yet significant changein America’s political structure.

However, the shift toward a more pure democracywas not immediately welcomed. Some people fearedthat the ignorance of the urban masses might lead toimpulsive rather than intelligent choices. Alexis de

Tocqueville, a Frenchman that toured the United Statesin 1831, recognized the pains and the benefits of a demo-

cratic society. In his book Democracy in America, he commentedon the struggle within the American political system between oldforms and new forms of leadership. He wrote, “The surface ofAmerican society is covered with a layer of democratic paint, but

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AndrewJackson

United Statesin the early 1800s

Alexis de Toqueville

from time to time one can see the old aristocratic colors breaking through.” The eliteworried about whether the populace would know how to handle their freedom.

Whatever the far-reaching concerns about the new political system, the commonman could see a future filled with unlimited possibilities.

“Who reads an American book?” While America seemed to be flourishing in thepolitical and economic realms, its artistic development seemed rather stunted. In1820, a British writer, Sydney Smith, taunted, “In the four quarters of the globe, whoreads an American book, or goes to an American play, or looks at an American pictureor statue?” The standard held by the Europeans seemed unapproachable by mostAmerican artists. Who of the Americans would ever rival the likes of Shakespeare orWilliam Wordsworth?

The paintings that hung on the walls of American sitting parlors and the booksthat filled the shelves of American homes were not from New York and Boston but fromEngland, France, Germany, and Italy.

Feeling the pressure to conform to European standards, American writers strug-gled to find their own voice. The vast open landscape, they complained, put limitationson the topics about which they could write. America had no castles from which to makelegends, nor did the people have a common mythology. The newness of the land and thepeople presented many difficulties for writers who thought that they had nothing onwhich to build and nothing to manipulate. James Fenimore Cooper wrote of America’sliterary “poverty of materials,” “There is scarce an ore which contributes to the wealthof the author, that is found, here, in veins as rich as in Europe.”

Romanticism. In search of “materials,” authors such as Washington Irving, JamesFenimore Cooper, and William Cullen Bryant traveled to Europe. What they gainedwas a Romantic view of the world that went hand in hand with the optimistic spiritthat was already present in America. Although the word romantic did emphasize feel-ings, in this context it was not concerned solely with the love between a man and awoman. It was very subjective in its approach, focusing on the individual’s imaginationand feelings. This thinking was a complete turnaround from the age of reason. Manwas no longer guided by his mind but by his heart. Romanticism as a movement in artand thought lasted from 1750–1870.

On a philosophical level, Romanticism rejected biblical revelation on severalaccounts. First, it replaced God’s Word with man’s intuition or feelings. Second,Romanticism did not see man as sinful and tainted by original sin; man just madewrong decisions. Third, the individual had the power to overcome whatever circum-stances were placed before him.

Because the Romantics favored the imagination over facts, they did not retell his-tory in the “plain style.” Unlike William Bradford’s Of Plymouth Plantation, WashingtonIrving’s retelling of the history of New York was not concerned with truth. It was a talemeant to entertain, rather than to inform.

Nature also took on a different significance for the Romantics. Whereas thePuritans viewed nature as a reflection of the Creator, the Romantics elevated it to analmost godlike position. They saw it as innocent, untouched by the evils of society.

As a part of nature, the Romantics looked upon man as good. His faults were not aresult of original sin; they were brought about by institutions and traditions. Societywas the great evil. The Romantic also believed that the farther man was from society,the better his life would be. Man should strive to emulate nature in its beauty and har-mony.

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Romantic New York. Because of the relatively few cul-tural centers in the United States at that time, the Romanticartists and thinkers knew each other well. The influence thatthe members exerted on one another helped to perpetuateRomantic thought in American literature. One group ofRomantics, known as the Knickerbockers, met in New YorkCity. Washington Irving and William Cullen Bryant wereprominent members of the group.

Another group that found its home in New York was theBread and Cheese Club. Among its notable members wasJames Fenimore Cooper. This group, though, was not exclu-sively composed of artists and writers. It was more of a socialclub for thinkers. Included on its rolls was the inventor of thetelegraph, Samuel F. B. Morse.

The groups in New York City fostered much of the literaryand artistic accomplishments between 1800–1840. Many ofthe writers during this period impressed the world literary

scene with their abilities. Finding a balance between Americanand European voices with The Sketch Book, Irving earned the respect and adulation ofBritish writers such as Sir Walter Scott. And, for the first time, an “American book”was placed in the hands of readers around the globe.

� Answer true or false for each of the following statements.

1.1 _________ Europe was the standard by which American society and culture were judged.

1.2 _________ America’s expanding borders and ever-increasing population caused no changein society.

1.3 _________ The pessimistic spirit of the immigrants did not help to fuel advances in farm-ing, transportation, and industry.

1.4 _________ President Andrew Jackson fought for the rights of the elite.

1.5 _________ Andrew Jackson feared that the ignorance of the urban masses would lead toimpulsive choices.

1.6 _________ As America flourished both politically and economically, so did its artisticdevelopment.

1.7 _________ America writers complained that the vast open landscape limited their topicsfor writing.

1.8 _________ American writers traveled to Europe in search of money.

1.9 _________ Romanticism focused on the individual’s imagination and feelings.

1.10 _________ Romanticism replaced God’s Word with reason.

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Morse telegraph key

Samuel F. B. Morse

Morse telegraph register

Morse 4S key

1.11 _________ According to the Romantic, nature was innocent and man was essentially good.

1.12 _________ The two groups from New York City that fostered literary and artistic accom-plishments were the Knickerbockers and the Independents.

Washington Irving (1783–1859). WashingtonIrving was the first American to achieve interna-tional fame as a writer. Born to a wealthy mer-cantile family in New York City, Irving wasexposed to the literary riches of the Old World.He was drawn to the writings of Shakespeare,Oliver Goldsmith, Joseph Addison, Sir WalterScott, and Laurence Sterne. Modeling his proseafter theirs, Irving combined European stylewith New World flavor to produce works thatwere distinctively American.

As children, Irving and his brothers enjoyedwriting poems and satirical papers. This earlyinterest in writing was transferred into theiradult lives. At twenty-four, Irving and his broth-er published an anoynomus magazine called theSalmagundi. It’s name, which means “spicyhash,” typified the publication’s contents: satiri-cal essays on New York’s social and political life. After he lost interest in his trainingas a lawyer, Irving’s literary life began to occupy more of his energies. In 1808, hebegan writing A History of New York. Supposedly told by an eccentric old man namedDeitrich Knickerbocker, it was a spoof on the colonial history of the Dutch-Americancommunity in New York. Irving’s story safely turned history on its head. Although itmocks some of America’s most cherished figures, this comical work was popular and itmade Irving famous.

In 1815 with the announcement of his fiancèe’s death still ringing in his ears,Irving moved to England. He planned to run the Liverpool branch of his family’s busi-ness; but after its collapse in 1818, he returned to his literary pursuits. For fourteenyears, Irving traveled Europe, gathering tales and inspiration. While traveling, hebegan to read German folk tales. He found the myths to be a rich source of writingmaterial. Placing the tales in an American setting, Irving gave his country a legendarypast, which many writers thought America was greatly lacking. Irving’s Rip VanWinkle was a direct result of this blending European and American imaginations.

Irving returned to the United States in 1832. During his time in Europe, he hadpublished many works on America and his travels in Europe. The Sketch Book was hismost famous work and had earned him world acclaim. Containing only a handful ofAmerican topics, it reflected Irving’s European interests. Irving’s work, however,appealed to American as well as British readers, earning him an honorary degree fromOxford. After serving as a diplomatic attaché to Spain, Irving retired to his home inTarrytown, New York.

Typical of the Romantic artists, Irving sought to manipulate the reader’s emotionsrather than “encourage depth of inquiry.” His goal was to entertain, not to inform.Facts and historical events were not revelations of God’s will but pieces of a puzzle tobe placed together in way that would bolster romantic feelings about America.Although his works demonstrate a definite break from Puritan tradition, they give usa wealth of “insight into human nature.” By focusing on the individual, we gain anunderstanding of his motivations and intents. Characters such as Rip Van Winkle andIchabod Crane have added valuable details to the American literary landscape.

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Washington IrvingWashington Irving

� Fill in each of the blanks using items from the following word list.

entertain writerGerman New Yorkhuman

1.13 Washington Irving was the first American to achieve international fame as a

_______________________________ .

1.14 A History of _______________________________made Irving famous.

1.15 By placing _______________________________ folk tales in an American setting, Irving gave Americaa legendary past.

1.16 Irving’s goal was to _______________________________ , not to inform.

1.17 Irving’s work gives us “insight into _______________________________ nature.”

What to Look For:

Irving believed that a good teller of tales plays on both the imagination and the emotions. As you read,think about the way Irving makes you sympathetic toward Rip. How does Rip make decisions, with hisreason or with his emotions? Also, notice the way in which the landscape and the time periods give cred-ibility to the legend. Does the story seem somewhat believable?

Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving. “Rip Van Winkle” was first published inThe Sketch Book. By attributing the tale to the fictious Diedrich Knickerbocker, Irvingdistanced himself from the story, making it seem more like a legend. In actuality, thetale is an American adaptation of a German folk tale.

The following Tale was found among the papers of the late Diedrich Knickerbocker,an old gentleman of New York, who was very curious in the Dutch history of theprovince, and the manners of the descendants from its primitive settlers. His histori-cal researches, however, did not lie so much among books as among men; for the for-mer are lamentably scanty on his favorite topics; whereas he found the old burghers,and still more their wives, rich in that legendary lore, so invaluable to true history.Whenever, therefore, he happened upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut up in itslow-roofed farmhouse, under a spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as a littleclasped volume of black-letter, and studied it with the zeal of a book-worm.

The result of all these researches was a history of the province during the reign ofthe Dutch governors, which he published some years since. There have been variousopinions as to the literary character of his work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a whitbetter than it should be. Its chief merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which indeed was alittle questioned on its first appearance, but has since been completely established; andit is now admitted into all historical collections, as a book of unquestionable authority.

The old gentleman died shortly after the publication of his work, and now that heis dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to his memory to say that his time mighthave been much better employed in weightier labors. He, however, was apt to ride hishobby his own way; and though it did now and then kick up the dust a little in the eyesof his neighbors, and grieve the spirit of some friends, for whom he felt the truest def-erence and affection; yet his errors and follies are remembered “more in sorrow thanin anger,” and it begins to be suspected, that he never intended to injure or offend. Buthowever his memory may be appreciated by critics, it is still held dear by many folk,whose good opinion is well worth having; particularly by certain biscuit-bakers, whohave gone so far as to imprint his likeness on their new-year cakes; and have thusgiven him a chance for immortality, almost equal to the being stamped on a WaterlooMedal, or a Queen Anne’s Farthing.

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WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill*mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, andare seen away to the west of the river, swelling up, to a noble height, and lording itover the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather,indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapesof these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, asperfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blueand purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky; but, sometimes,when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vaporsabout their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and lightup like a crown of glory.

At the foot of these fair mountains, the voyager may have descri ed* the lightsmoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, justwhere the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer land-scape. It is a little village, of great antiquity, having been founded by some of theDutch colonists, in the early times of the province, just about the beginning of thegovernment of the good Peter Stuyvesant,* (may he rest in peace!) and there weresome of the houses of the original settlers standing within a few years, built of smallyellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed windows and gable fronts, sur-mounted with weathercocks.

In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precisetruth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived many years since,while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple good-natured fellow,of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figuredso gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to thesiege of Fort Christina. He inherited, however, but little of the martial* character ofhis ancestors. I have observed that he was a simple good-natured man; he was,moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedient hen-pecked husband. Indeed, to the lat-ter circumstance might be owing that meekness of spirit which gained him suchuniversal popularity; for those men are most apt to be obsequious* and conciliatingabroad, who are under the discipline of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless,are rendered pliant and malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; anda curtain lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the virtues ofpatience and long-suffering. A termagant* wife may, therefore, in some respects, beconsidered a tolerable blessing; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed.

Certain it is, that he was a great favorite among all the good wives of the village,who, as usual, with the amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles; and neverfailed, whenever they talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to layall the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would shout withjoy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings,taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts,witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was sur-rounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and play-ing a thousand tricks on him with impunity; and not a dog would bark at himthroughout the neighborhood.

The great error in Rip’s composition was an insuperable* aversion to all kindsof profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity* or perseverance; forhe would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar’s lance,* andfish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a sin-gle nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece* on his shoulder for hours together, trudg-ing through woods and swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrelsor wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor even in the roughest toil,

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Rip Van Winkle

and was a foremost man at all country frolics for husking Indian corn, or buildingstone-fences; the women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their errands,and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would not do for them.In a word, Rip was ready to attend to anybody’s business but his own; but as to doingfamily duty, and keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible.

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm; it was the most pesti-lent little piece of ground in the whole country; every thing about it went wrong, andwould go wrong, in spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his cowwould either go astray, or get among the cabbages; weeds were sure to grow quick-er in his fields than anywhere else; the rain always made a point of setting in justas he had some out-door work to do; so that though his patrimonial* estate haddwindled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was little more leftthan a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet it was the worst conditioned farmin the neighborhood.

His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged to nobody. His sonRip, an urchin begotten in his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with theold clothes of his father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother’sheels, equipped in a pair of his father’s cast-off galligaskins,* which he had muchado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in bad weather.

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oileddispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can begot with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work fora pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment;but his wife kept continually dinning* in his ears about his idleness, his careless-ness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night, hertongue was incessantly going, and every thing he said or did was sure to produce atorrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one way of replying to all lectures of thekind, and that, by frequent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders,shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, always provoked afresh volley from his wife; so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and take to theoutside of the house—the only side which, in truth, belongs to a hen-pecked husband.

Rip’s sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as much hen-pecked ashis master; for Dame Van Winkle regarded them as companions in idleness, andeven looked upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master’s going so oftenastray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable dog, he was as coura-geous an animal as ever scoured the woods—but what courage can withstand theever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman’s tongue? The moment Wolfentered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between hislegs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at DameVan Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to thedoor with yelping precipitation.

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on;a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool thatgrows keener with constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when driv-en from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, andother idle personages of the village; which held its sessions on a bench before a smallinn, designated by a rubicund* portrait of His Majesty George the Third.* Here theyused to sit in the shade through a long lazy summer’s day, talking listlessly over villagegossip, or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing. But it would have been worth anystatesman’s money to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place,when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands from some passing traveller.How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick VanBummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little man, who was not to be daunted by

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the most gigantic word in the dictionary; and how sagely they would deliberate uponpublic events some months after they had taken place.

The opinions of this junto* were completely controlled by Nicholas Vedder, apatriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, at the door of which he took his seatfrom morning till night just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in theshade of a large tree; so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his movements asaccurately as by a sun-dial. It is true he was rarely heard to speak, but smoked hispipe incessantly. His adherents, however (for every great man has his adherents),perfectly understood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. When any thingthat was read or related displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehe-mently, and to send forth short, frequent and angry puffs; but when pleased, hewould inhale the smoke slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds;and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the fragrant vapor curlabout his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation.*

From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his terma-gant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage andcall the members all to naught; nor was that august* personage, Nicholas Vedderhimself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago,* who charged him out-right with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair; and his only alternative, toescape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his wife, was to take gun in handand stroll away into the woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot ofa tree, and share the contents of his wallet* with Wolf, with whom he sympathizedas a fellow-sufferer in persecution. “Poor Wolf,” he would say, “thy mistress leads theea dog’s life of it; but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want a friendto stand by thee!” Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master’s face, and ifdogs can feel pity I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.

In a long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day, Rip had unconsciouslyscrambled to one of the highest parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He was after hisfavorite sport of squirrel shooting, and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoedwith the reports of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the after-noon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of aprecipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower coun-try for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far,far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a pur-ple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom,and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.

On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, andshagged, the bottom filled with fragments from the impending cliffs, and scarcelylighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on thisscene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw their longblue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he couldreach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering theterrors of Dame Van Winkle.

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, “Rip VanWinkle! Rip Van Winkle!” He looked round, but could see nothing but a crow wing-ing its solitary flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have deceivedhim, and turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry ring through the stillevening air; “Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!”—at the same time Wolf bristled uphis back, and giving a low growl, skulked* to his master’s side, looking fearfullydown into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehension stealing over him; he lookedanxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up therocks, and bending under the weight of something he carried on his back. He was

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surprised to see any human being in this lonely and unfrequented place, but sup-posing it to be some one of the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hasteneddown to yield it.

On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singularity of thestranger’s appearance. He was a short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair,and a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch fashion—a cloth jerkinstrapped round the waist—several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample volume,decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and bunches at the knees. He boreon his shoulder a stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip toapproach and assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of thisnew acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity;* and mutually relievingone another, they clambered up a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a moun-tain torrent. As they ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, likedistant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft, betweenlofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted. He paused for an instant, butsupposing it to be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers whichoften take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing through the ravine,they came to a hollow, like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by perpendicularprecipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that youonly caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. During thewhole time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence; for though the formermarvelled greatly what could be the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wildmountain, yet there was something strange and incomprehensible about theunknown, that inspired awe and checked familiarity.

On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder presented themselves. Ona level spot in the centre was a company of odd-looking personages playing at nine-pins.* They were dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets,others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormousbreeches, of similar style with that of the guide’s. Their visages, too, were peculiar:one had a large beard, broad face, and small piggish eyes: the face of another seemedto consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugarloaf hat, set off witha little red cock’s tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There wasone who seemed to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weath-er-beaten countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger,* highcrowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses* in them.

The whole group reminded Rip of the figures in an old Flemish painting, in theparlor of Dominie Van Shaick, the village parson, and which had been brought overfrom Holland at the time of the settlement.

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidentlyamusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterioussilence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed.Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, when-ever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.

As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from theirplay, and stared at him with such fixed statue-like gaze, and such strange, uncouth,lack-lustre countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smotetogether. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, andmade signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling;they quaffed* the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.

By degrees Rip’s awe and apprehension subsided. He even ventured, when noeye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, which he found had much of the fla-vor of excellent Hollands.* He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon temptedto repeat the draught. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits to

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the flagon so often that at length his senses were overpowered, his eyes swam in hishead, his head gradually declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had first seen the oldman of the glen. He rubbed his eyes—it was a bright sunny morning. The birds werehopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, andbreasting the pure mountain breeze. “Surely,” thought Rip, “I have not slept here allnight.” He recalled the occurrences before he fell asleep. The strange man with a kegof liquor—the mountain ravine—the wild retreat among the rocks—the woe-begoneparty at nine-pins—the flagon*—“Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon!” thoughtRip—“what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle!” He looked round for his gun,but in place of the clean, well-oiled fowlingpiece, he found an old firelock lying byhim, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten.He now suspected that the grave roysterers of the mountain had put a trick uponhim, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, haddisappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whis-tled after him and shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whis-tle and shout, but no dog was to be seen.

He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening’s gambol,* and if he metwith any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found him-self stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. “These mountain beds donot agree with me,” thought Rip, “and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of therheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van Winkle.” With some diffi-culty he got down into the glen: he found the gully up which he and his companionhad ascended the preceding evening; but to his astonishment a mountain streamwas now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling the glen with bab-bling murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its sides, working his toil-some way through thickets of birch, sassafras, and witch-hazel, and sometimestripped up or entangled by the wild grapevines that twisted their coils or tendrilsfrom tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. At length he reachedto where the ravine had opened through the cliffs to the amphitheatre; but notraces of such opening remained. The rocks presented a high impenetrable wallover which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell intoa broad deep basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here,then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after hisdog; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting highin air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure in theirelevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man’s perplexities. Whatwas to be done? the morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for wantof his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet hiswife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head,shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety,turned his steps homeward.

As he approached the village he met a number of people, but none whom heknew, which somewhat surprised him, for he had thought himself acquainted withevery one in the country round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from thatto which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of surprise,and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, invariably stroked their chins. Theconstant recurrence of this gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when,to his astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long!

He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange children ran athis heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not one ofwhich he recognized for an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The veryvillage was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houseswhich he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had

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disappeared. Strange names were over the doors–strange faces at the windows—every thing was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt whetherboth he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his nativevillage, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains—there ran the silver Hudson at a distance—there was every hill and dale preciselyas it had always been—Rip was sorely perplexed—“That flagon last night,” thoughthe, “has addled* my poor head sadly!”

It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which heapproached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice ofDame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay—the roof fallen in, the win-dows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked likeWolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed histeeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed—“My very dog,” sighed poorRip, “has forgotten me!” He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame VanWinkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, and apparently aban-doned. This desolateness overcame all his connubial* fears—he called loudly for hiswife and children—the lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and thenall again was silence.

He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, the village inn— but it, too,was gone. A large, rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping win-dows, some of them broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over thedoor was painted, “The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.” Instead of the greattree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared atall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap, and from

it was fluttering a flag, on which was asingular assemblage of stars andstripes—all this was strange and incom-prehensible. He recognized on the sign,however, the ruby face of King George,under which he had smoked so many apeaceful pipe; but even this was singu-larly metamorphosed. The red coat waschanged for one of blue and buff, asword was held in the hand instead of asceptre, the head was decorated with acocked hat, and underneath was paint-ed in large characters, GENERALWASHINGTON.

There was, as usual, a crowd offolk about the door, but none that Riprecollected. The very character of thepeople seemed changed. There was abusy, bustling, disputatious tone aboutit, instead of the accustomed phlegm*and drowsy tranquillity. He looked invain for the sage Nicholas Vedder,with his broad face, double chin, andfair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobac-co-smoke instead of idle speeches; orVan Bummel, the schoolmaster, dolingforth* the contents of an ancientnewspaper. In place of these, a lean,bilious*-looking fellow, with his pock-ets full of handbills, was haranguing

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vehemently about rights of citizens—elections—members of congress—liberty—Bunker’s Hill—heroes of seventy-six—and other words, which were a perfectBabylonish jargon to the bewildered Van Winkle.

The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece,his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at his heels, soonattracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, eye-ing him from head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him,and, drawing him partly aside, inquired “on which side he voted?” Rip stared invacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm,and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, “Whether he was Federal orDemocrat?” Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a know-ing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way throughthe crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, andplanting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo,* the other resting onhis cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul,demanded in an austere tone, “what brought him to the election with a gun onhis shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot inthe village?”—“Alas! gentlemen,” cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, “I am a poorquiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him!”

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders—“A tory!* a tory! a spy! arefugee! hustle him! away with him!” It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a ten-foldausterity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came therefor, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that hemeant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, whoused to keep about the tavern.

“Well—who are they?—name them.”

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, “Where’s Nicholas Vedder?”

There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, pip-ing voice, “Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years!There was a wooden tombstone in the church yard that used to tell all abouthim, but that’s rotten and gone too.”

“Where’s Brom Dutcher?”

“Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; some say he waskilled at the storming of Stony Point—others say he was drowned in a squall atthe foot of Antony’s Nose. I don’t know—he never came back again.”

“Where’s Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?”

“He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now inCongress.”

Rip’s heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home andfriends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled himtoo, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he couldnot understand: war—Congress—Stony Point; he had no courage to ask afterany more friends, but cried out in despair, “Does nobody here know Rip VanWinkle?”

“Oh, Rip Van Winkle!” exclaimed two or three, “Oh, to be sure! that’s Rip VanWinkle yonder, leaning against the tree.”

Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself, as he went up themountain: apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now

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completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was him-self or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cockedhat demanded who he was, and what was his name?

“I don’t know,” exclaimed he, at his wit’s end; “I’m not myself—I’m somebodyelse—that’s me yonder—no—that’s somebody else got into my shoes—I wasmyself last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they’ve changed mygun, and everything’s changed, and I’m changed, and I can’t tell what’s myname, or who I am!”

The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, andtap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, aboutsecuring the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the verysuggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with someprecipitation. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed throughthe throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in herarms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. “Hush, Rip,” cried she, “hush,you little fool; the old man won’t hurt you.” The name of the child, the air of themother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind.“What is your name, my good woman?” asked he.

“Judith Gardenier.”

“And your father’s name?”

“Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it’s twenty years since hewent away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since—his dogcame home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away bythe Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl.”

Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering voice:“Where’s your mother?”

“Oh, she too died but a short time since; she broke a blood-vessel in a fit ofpassion at a New England peddler.”

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest mancould contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in hisarms. “I am your father!” cried he—“Young Rip Van Winkle once—old Rip VanWinkle now! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle?”

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from among the crowd,put her hand to her brow, and peering under it in his face for a moment,exclaimed, “Sure enough it is Rip Van Winkle—it is himself! Welcome homeagain, old neighbor—Why, where have you been these twenty long years?”

Rip’s story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him but asone night. The neighbors stared when they heard it; some were seen to wink ateach other, and put their tongues in their cheeks: and the self-important manin the cocked hat, who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the field,screwed down the corners of his mouth, and shook his head—upon which therewas a general shaking of the head throughout the assemblage.

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk,who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He was a descendant of the histo-rian of that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the province. Peterwas the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the won-derful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once,and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured thecompany that it was a fact, handed down from his ancestor the historian, thatthe Kaatskill Mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it

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was affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of the riverand country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of theHalf-moon; being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise,and keep a guardian eye upon the river, and the great city called by his name.That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summerafternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.

To make a long story short, the company broke up, and returned to the moreimportant concerns of the election. Rip’s daughter took him home to live withher; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery farmer for a hus-band, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon hisback. As to Rip’s son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen leaning againstthe tree, he was employed to work on the farm; but evinced an hereditary dis-position to attend to anything else but his business.

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits; he soon found many of his for-mer cronies,* though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time; and pre-ferred making friends among the rising generation, with whom he soon grewinto great favor.

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy age when aman can be idle with impunity, he took his place once more on the bench at theinn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chron-icle of the old times “before the war.” It was some time before he could get intothe regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the strange eventsthat had taken place during his torpor.* How that there had been a revolution-ary war—that the country had thrown off the yoke of old England—and that,instead of being a subject of his Majesty George the Third, he was now a freecitizen of the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes of statesand empires made but little impression on him; but there was one species ofdespotism* under which he had long groaned, and that was—petticoat govern-ment. Happily that was at an end; he had got his neck out of the yoke of matri-mony, and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading the tyran-ny of Dame Van Winkle.

Whenever her name was mentioned, however, he shook his head, shruggedhis shoulders, and cast up his eyes; which might pass either for an expressionof resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance.

He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle’s hotel.He was observed, at first, to vary on some points every time he told it, whichwas, doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It at last settled downprecisely to the tale I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neigh-borhood, but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the reality of it,and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and that this was one point onwhich he always remained flighty. The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almostuniversally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunderstormof a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson andhis crew are at their game of nine-pins; and it is a common wish of all hen-pecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands,that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle’s flagon.

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Kaatskill - Catskilldescried - discoveredPeter Stuyvesant - (1592–1672) governor of the Dutch colony, New Netherlandsmartial - made for warobsequious - submissivemalleable - bendablecurtain lecture - a private lecture given by the wife to her husbandtermagant - a quarrelsome, scolding womanimpunity - free from punishmentinsuperable - incapable of being overcomeassiduity - perserveranceTartar’s lance - spear used by soldiers of Genghis Khanpatrimonial - inherited from the fathergalligaskins - loose pantsdinning - naggingrubicund - redGeorge the Third - the King of England during the American Revolutionjunto - small committeeapprobation - approvalaugust - inspiring awevirago - ill-tempered womanwallet - backpackskulked - moved sneakilyalacrity - merry willingnessnine-pins - bowling-like gameroses - decorative ribbonquaffed - drank a lotHollands - a gin from Hollandgambol - frolicaddled - confusedconnubial - having to do with marriagephlegm - indifferencedoling forth - reading aloudbilious - ill-temperedakimbo - hand on hip with elbow benttory - a person who remained loyal to Englandcronies - buddiestorpor - inactivitydespotism - tyrannical power

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� Fill in each of the blanks using items from the following word list.

Catskill foot woodsGeorge Washington hen-pecked twentyidleness petticoat sleep

1.18 Rip Van Winkle’s village was founded by Dutch colonists in the ____________________________mountains.

1.19 Rip was a kind neighbor and an obedient _______________________________ husband.

1.20 Dame Van Winkle continually dinned in Rip’s ears about his _______________________________ ,his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing his family.

1.21 To escape from the labor of the farm and clamor of his wife, he would stroll into the_______________________________ .

1.22 After drinking from the liquor-filled keg, Rip fell into a deep _______________________________ .

1.23 Rip slept for _______________________________ years.

1.24 During his sleep, Rip’s beard grew to be a _______________________________ long.

1.25 The picture of King George was changed into a picture of_______________________________ .

1.26 Rip was happy to be freed from the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle, which he called the_______________________________ government.

James Fenimore Cooper (1789–1851). AsAmerica’s first novelist, James Fenimore Cooper usedhis platform to criticize and correct the social ills ofhis time. From infancy, he was exposed to the con-flicts of settlement. His father was a frontiersmanwho cultivated, ruled, and pushed civilization beyondwhat is now known as central New York. Cooper’sLeatherstocking Tales portray the changes that hap-pen to people and nature when the wilderness isengulfed by a rapidly encroaching society.

In 1801 Cooper was sent to a prep school toprepare for Yale College. However, at age thirteen,he was expelled for not heeding disciplinary meas-ures for committing numerous pranks. In 1806, he

became a sailor aboard a merchant ship. Two years later, he enlisted in the U. S. Navy.When Cooper was twenty, his father died leaving him a large inheritance. Not too longafter, Cooper left the Navy to become a gentleman farmer.

While reading a popular British novel to his fami-ly, Cooper exclaimed that he could write just as well asif not better than that author. His wife, as the storygoes, made a bet that he could not. Unable to ignorethe challenge, Cooper started writing. Within sixmonths, Cooper published his first novel, Precaution(1820). Although it was not much better than the novelhe had read, the challenge awakened within him aninterest in writing. A year later, he published anotherbook, The Spy. It was a romantic tale of the AmericanRevolution. Despite its unskilled development, it

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Yale College

gained him acceptance into the American literary scene. In 1822 Cooper moved his familyto New York City, where he founded the Bread and Cheese Club.

Like Irving, Cooper tried to invent American folklore. However, Cooper’s attemptswere not simply to entertain but to expose society’s problems. In 1823 Cooper publishedthe first of the Leatherstocking Tales. In The Pioneers, Cooper created America’s first fic-tional hero, Natty Bumppo. As a frontiersman with high ideals and a Christian upbring-ing, Natty was the model of behavior.

Throughout his writing career, Cooper authored thirty-two novels and variousother pieces of nonfiction. Cooper’s writing can seem awkward because of the varietyof genre he used. A critic observed that it is this apparent lack of ease and simplicityof language that caused Cooper’s novels at first to be viewed as adventure stories forboys. Many years after his death, however he was reread and recognized as America’sfirst social critic. Despite his Romantic leanings, Cooper does not ignore the difficultsocial issues of his time. In his writings, he speaks about the “importance of properrace relations, the civil and natural rights of citizens, as well as the need to preservethe wilderness.”

� Underline the correct answer in each of the following statements.

1.27 James Fenimore Cooper was America’s first (poet, novelist, politician).

1.28 Cooper’s (wife, sister, father) bet that he could not write a better novel than the one he wasreading.

1.29 In the Leatherstocking Tales, Cooper created America’s first fictional (mother, outcast,hero).

1.30 Cooper has been recognized as America’s first (political, social, religious) critic.

What to Look For:

The Prairie is the last of the Leatherstocking Tales. Natty Bumppo, the hero of the series, is a frontiers-man who has lived in close contact with the Indians. As you read, pay attention to Natty’s thoughts aboutdiffering cultures and religions. Is Natty thinking logically and biblically when he says that Christianityand Indian pantheism might both lead to heaven? How does Natty’s opinion stand up against Jesus’words, “No one comes to the Father but through Me” (John 14:6)?

From: The Prairie

In this excerpt, Natty Bumppo is surrounded by his friends as he nears death. Duncan UncasMiddleton, an officer in the army, and his adopted son, Hard-Heart, whom he calls “Pawnee,” shareNatty’s last moments.

its inhabi tants were seen collected in an open space, where they were arrangedwith the custom ary deference to age and rank. The whole formed a large circle, inthe center of which were perhaps a dozen of the principal chiefs. Hard Heartwaved his hand as he ap proached, and as the mass of bodies opened he rodethrough, followed by his compan ions. Here they dismounted, and as the beastswere led apart, the strangers found themselves environed by a thousand grave,composed, but solicitous faces.

Middleton gazed about him in growing concern, for no cry, no song, no shout wel-comed him among a people from whom he had so lately parted with regret. Hisuneasi ness, not to say apprehensions, was shared by all his followers. Determinationand stern resolution began to assume the place of anx iety in every eye, as each mansilently felt for his arms, and assured himself that his sev eral weapons were in astate for service. But there was no answering symptom of hostility on the part of

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When they entered the town,

their hosts. Hard Heart beck oned for Middleton and Pau’ to follow, leading the waytowards the cluster of forms that occupied the center of the circle. Here the visitorsfound a solution of all the move ments which had given them so much cause forapprehension.

The trapper* was placed on a rude seat, which had been made, with studiedcare, to support his frame in an upright and easy at titude. The first glance of theeye told his for mer friends that the old man was at length called upon to pay thelast tribute of nature. His eye was glazed and apparently as devoid of sight as ofexpression. His features were a little more sunken and strongly marked than for-merly; but there, all change, so far as ex terior was concerned might be said to haveceased. His approaching end was not to be ascribed to any positive disease, buthad been a gradual and mild decay of the physi cal powers. Life, it is true, still lin-gered in his system; but it was as if at times entirely ready to depart, and then itwould appear to reanimate the sinking form, reluctant to give up the possessionof a tenement* that had never been corrupted by vice or undermined by disease.It would have been no violent fancy to have imagined that the spirit flut teredabout the placid lips of the old woods man, reluctant to depart from a shell thathad so long given it an honest and honor able shelter.

His body was placed so as to let the light of the setting sun fall full upon thesolemn features. His head was bare, the long, thin locks of gray fluttering lightlyin the evening breeze. His rifle lay upon his knee, and the other accountermentsof the chase were placed at his side, within reach of his hand. Between his feet laythe figure of a hound, with its head crouching to the earth, as if it slumbered; andso perfectly easy and natural was its position, that a second glance was necessaryto tell Middleton he saw only the skin of Hector, stuffed, by Indian tenderness andingenuity, in a manner to represent the living animal. His own dog was playing ata distance with the child of Tachechana and Mahtoree. The mother herself stoodat hand, holding in her arms a second offspring, that might boast of a parentageno less honorable than that which belonged to the son of Hard-Heart. Le Balafréwas seated nigh the dying trapper, with every mark about his person that thehour of his own departure was not far distant. The rest of those immediatedly inthe center were aged men who had apparently drawn near in order to observe themanner in which a just and fearless warrior would depart on the greatest of hisjourneys.

The old man was reaping the rewards of a life remarkable for temperance andactiv ity, in a tranquil and placid death. His vigor in a manner endured to the verylast. Decay, when it did occur, was rapid, but free from pain. He had hunted withthe tribe in the spring, and even throughout most of the summer, when his limbssuddenly refused to perform their customary offices. A sympa thizing weaknesstook possession of all his faculties; and the Pawnees believed that they were goingto lose, in this unexpected manner, a sage and counselor whom they had begunboth to love and respect. But as we have already said, the immortal occupantseemed unwilling to desert its tenement. The lamp of life flickered without becom-ing extinguished. On the morning of the day on which Middleton arrived, therewas a general reviving of the powers of the whole man. His tongue was againheard in wholesome maxims, and his eye from time to time recognized the personsof his friends. It merely proved to be brief and final inter course with the world onthe part of one who had already been considered, as to mental communion, to havetaken his leave of it forever.

When he had placed his guests in front of the dying man, Hard Heart,after a pause that proceeded as much from sorrow as decorum, leaned a littleforward and demanded, “Does my father hear the words of his son?”

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“Speak,” returned the trapper, in tones that issues from his chest butwhich were rendered awfully distinct by the stillness that reigned in theplace, “I am about to depart from the village of the Loups,* and shortly shallbe beyond the reach of your voice.”

“Let the wise chief have no cares for his journey,” continued Hard Heartwith an earnest solicitude that led him to forget for the moment that otherswere waiting to address his adopted parent; “a hundred Loups shall clear hispath from briars.”

“Pawnee, I die as I have lived, a Christian man!” resumed the trapper witha force of voice that had the same startling effect upon his hearers as is pro-duced by the trumpet when its blast rises suddenly and freely on the air afterits obstructed sounds have been heard struggling in the distance; “as I cameinto life so will I leave it. Horses and arms are not needed to stand in thepresence of the Great Spirit of my people. He knows my color, and accordingto my gifts will he judge my deeds.”

“My father will tell my young men how many Mingoes* he has struc, andwhat acts of valor and justice he has done, that they may know how to imi-tate him.”

“A boastful tonque is not heard in the heaven of a white man!” solemnlyreturned the old man. “What I have done He has seen. His eyes are alwaysopen. That which has been done will he remember; wherein I have been wrongwill he not forget to chastise, though he will do the same in mercy. No, my son;a paleface may not sing his own praises and hope to have them acceptablebefore his God!”

A little disappointed, the young partisan stepped modestly back, makingway for one of the recent comers to approach. Middleton took one of the mea-ger hands of the trapper, and struggling to command his voice, he succeededin announcing his presence. The old man listened like one whose thoughtswere dwelling on a very different subject; but when the other had succeededin making him understand that he was present, an ex pression of joyful recog-nition passed over his faded features.

“I hope you have not so soon forgotten those whom you so materiallyserved!” Mid dleton concluded. “It would pain me to think my hold on yourmemory was so light.”

“Little that I have ever seen is forgotten,” returned the trapper; “I am at theclose of many weary days, but there is not one among them all that I could wishto overlook. I remember you with the whole of your com pany: aye, and your grand-father that went be-fore you. I am glad that you have come back upon theseplains, for I had need of one who speaks the English, since little faith can be putin the traders of these regions. Will you do a favor to an old and dying man?”

“Name it,” said Middleton; “it shall be done.”

“It is a far journey to send such trifles,” resumed the old man, who spoke atshort in tervals, as strength and breath permitted; “a far and weary journey is thesame: but kind nesses and friendships are things not to be forgotten. There is asettlement among the Otsego hills—”

“I know the place,” interrupted Middleton, observing that he spoke withincreasing difficulty; “proceed to tell me what you would have done.”

“Take this rule and pouch and horn, and send them to the person whose nameis graven on the plates of the stock—a trader cut the letters with his knife— forit is long that I have intended to send him such a token of my love.”

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“It shall be so. Is there more that you could wish?”

“Little else have I to bestow. My traps I give to my Indian son, for honestly andkindly has he kept his faith. Let him stand before me.”

Middleton explained to the chief what the trapper had said and relinquishedhis own place to the other.

“Pawnee,” continued the old man, always changing his language to suit theperson he addressed, and not unfrequently according to the ideas he expressed, “itis a custom of my people for the father to leave his blessing with the son before heshuts his eyes forever. This blessing I give to you; take it, for the prayers of aChristian man will never make the path of a just warrior to the blessed prai rieseither longer or more tangled. May the God of a white man look on your deedswith friendly eyes, and may you never commit an act that shall cause him to dark-en his face. I know not whether we shall ever meet again.

“There are many traditions concerning the place of good spirits. It is not forone like me, old and experienced though I am, to set up my opinions against anation’s. You be lieve in the blessed prairies, and I have faith in the sayings of myfathers. If both are true, our parting will be final; but if it should prove that thesame meaning is hid under different words, we shall yet stand together, Pawnee,before the face of your Wahcondah, who will then be no other than my God. Thereis much to be said in favor of both reli gions, for each seems suited to its own peo -ple, and no doubt it was so intended. I fear I have not together followed the giftsof my color, inasmuch as I find it a little painful to give up forever the use of therifle and the comforts of the chase. But then the fault has been my own, seeingthat it could not have been His. Aye, Hector,” he continued, lean ing forward a lit-tle, and feeling for the ears of the hound, “our parting has come at last, dog, andit will be a long hunt. You have been an honest, and a bold, and a faithful hound.Pawnee, you cannot slay the pup on my grave, for where a Christian dog falls,there he lies forever; but you can be kind to him after I am gone, for the love youbear his master.”

“The words of my father are in my ears,” returned the young partisan, mak-ing a grave and respectful gesture of assent.

“Do you hear what the chief has prom ised, dog?” demanded the trapper, mak-ing an effort to attract the notice of the insensi ble effigy of his hound. Receivingno answering look, nor hearing any friendly whine, the old man felt for the mouthand endeavored to force his hand between the cold lips. The truth then flashedupon him, although he was far from perceiving the whole extent of the deception.Falling back in his seat, he hung his head like one who felt a severe and unex-pected shock. Profiting by this momen tary forgetfulness, two young Indians re -moved the skin with the same delicacy of feeling that had induced them toattempt the pious fraud.

“The dog is dead!” muttered the trapper after a pause of many minutes “Ahound has his time as well as a man, and well has he filled his days! Captain,” headded, mak ing an effort to wave his hand for Middleton, “I am glad you havecome, for though kind and well meaning according to the gifts of their color, theseIndians are not the men to lay the head of a white man in his grave. I have beenthinking, too, of this dog at my feet; it will not do to set forth the opinion that aChristian can expect to meet his hound again; still there can be little harm inplacing what is left of so faithful a servant nigh the bones of his master.”

“It shall be as you desire.”

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“I’m glad you think with me in this mat ter. In order, then, to save labor, lay thepup at my feet; or for that matter, put him side by side. A hunter need never beashamed to be found in company with his dog!”

“I charge myself with your wish.”

The old man made a long and apparently a musing pause. At times he raisedhis eyes wistfully, as if he would again address Mid dleton, but some innate feel-ing appeared always to suppress his words. The other, who observed his hesita-tion, enquired in a way most likely to encourage him to proceed, whether therewas aught else that he could wish to have done.

“I am without kith or kin in the wide world!” the trapper answered, “When Iam gone, there will be an end of my race. We have never been chiefs, but honest,and use ful in our way. I hope it cannot be denied, we have always proved our-selves. My father lies buried near the sea, and the bones of his soil will whitenon the prairies—”

“Name the spot, and your remains shall be placed by the side of your father,”inter rupted Middleton.

“Not so, not so, Captain. Let me sleep, where I have lived, beyond the din ofthe set tlements! Still I see no need why the grave of an honest man should be hid.like a redskin in his ambushment. I paid a man in the set tlements to make andput a graven stone at the head of my father’s resting place. It was of the value oftwelve beaver skins, and cun ningly and curiously was it carved! Then it told to allcomers that the body of such a Christian lay beneath: and it spoke of his mannerof life, of his years, and of his hon esty. When we had done with the Frenchers inthe old war,* I made a journey to the spot in order to see that all was rightly per-formed, and glad I am to say, the workman had not forgotten his faith.”

“And such a stone you would have at your grave?”

“I! No, no, I have no son, but Hard Heart and it is little that an Indian knowsof white fashions and usages. Besides, I am his debtor already, seeing it is so lit-tle I have done since I have lived in his tribe. The rifle might bring the value ofsuch a thing–but then I know it will give the boy pleasure to hang the piece in hishall, for many is the deer and the bird that he has seen it destroy. No, no, the gunmust be sent to him whose name is graven on the lock!”

“But there is one who would gladly prove his affection in the way you wish; hewho owes you not only his own deliverance from so many dangers, but who inher-its a heavy debt of gratitude from his ancestors. The stone shall be put at the headof your grave.

The old man extended his emaciated hand and gave the other a squeeze ofthanks.

“I thought you might be willing to do it, but I was backward in asking thefavor,” he said, “seeing that you are not of my kin. Put no boastful words on thesame, but just the name, the age, and the time of the death, with something fromthe Holy Book; no more, no more. My name will then not be al together lost on‘arth; I need no more.”

Middleton intimated his assent, and then followed a pause that was only bro-ken by distant and broken sentences from the dying man. He appeared now tohave closed his accounts with the world and to await merely for the final sum-mons to quit it. Mid dleton and Hard Heart placed themselves on the oppositesides of his seat and watched with melancholy solicitude the variations of hiscountenance. For two hours there was no very sensible alteration. The expressionof his faded and time-worn features was that of a calm and dignified repose. From

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time to time he spoke, uttering some brief sentence in the way of advice, or ask-ing some simple questions concerning those in whose for tunes he still took afriendly interest. During the whole of that solemn and anxious period each indi-vidual of the tribe kept his place in the most self-restrained patience. When theold man spoke, all bent their heads to listen; and when his words were uttered,they seemed to ponder on their wisdom and use fulness.

As the flame drew nigher to the socket, his voice was hushed, and there weremo ments when his attendants doubted whether he still belonged to the living.Mid dleton, who watched each wavering expres sion of his weather-beaten visagewith the interest of a keen observer of human nature softened by the tendernessof personal re gard, fancied he could read the workings of the old man’s soul in thestrong lineaments of his countenance. Perhaps what the en lightened soldier tookfor the delusion of mistaken opinion did actually occur, for who has returned fromthat unknown world to explain by what forms, and in what man ner, he was intro-duced into its awful pre cincts? Without pretending to explain what must ever bea mystery to the quick, we shall simply relate facts as they occurred.

The trapper had remained nearly mo tionless for an hour. His eyes alone hadocca sionally opened and shut. When opened, his gaze seemed fastened on theclouds, which hung around the western horizon, reflecting the bright colors, andgiving form and loveli ness to the glorious tints of an American sunset. The hourthe calm beauty of the season, the occasion—all conspired to fill the spectatorswith solemn awe. Suddenly, while musing on the remarkable position in which hewas placed, Middleton felt the hand which he held grasp his own with incrediblepower, and the old man, supported on either side by his friends, rose upright to hisfeet. For a moment he looked about him, as if to invite all in presence to listen (thelingering remnant of human frailty) and then, with a fine military elevation of thehead and with a voice that might be heard in every part of that numerous assem-bly, he pronounced the word “Here!”

A movement so entirely unexpected, and the air of grandeur and humilitywhich were so remarkably united in the mien of the trapper, together with theclear and uncommon force of his utterance, produced a short period of confusionin the faculties of all present. When Middleton and Hard-Heart, each of whom hadinvoluntarily extended a hand to support the form of the old man, turned to himagain, they found that the subject of their interest was removed forever beyondthe necessity of their care. They mournfully placed the body in its seat, and LeBalafré arose to announce the termina tion of the scene to the tribe. The voice ofthe old Indian seemed a sort of echo from that invisible world to which the meekspirit of the trapper had just departed.

“A valiant, a just, and a wise warrior has gone on the path which will lead himto the blessed grounds of his people!” he said. “When the voice of the Wahcondahcalled him, he was ready to answer. Go, my chil dren; remember the just chief ofthe palefaces, and clear your own tracks from briars!”

The grave was made beneath the shade of some noble oaks. It has been care-fully watched to the present hour by the Pawnees of the Loup and is often shownto the trav eler and the trader as a spot where a just white man sleeps. In due timethe stone was placed at its head, with the simple in scription which the trapperhad himself requested. The only liberty taken by Middleton was to add: “May nowanton hand ever disturb his remains!”

the trapper - Natty Bumppotenement - bodyLoups - a Pawnee tribeMingoes - enemiesthe old war - French and Indian War (1754–1763)

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� Answer true or false in each of the following statements.

1.31 _________ Upon entering the Indian town, Middleton grew concerned because everyonewas singing, shouting, and welcoming him.

1.32 _________ Middleton and Paul found Natty Bumppo approaching death.

1.33 _________ When Hard Heart asked his father to “tell my young men how many Mingoeshe has struck” and of the “acts of valor and justice he has done,” Nattyexplained that God does not hear “a boastful tongue.”

1.34 _________ Natty’s son believed in the God of the Bible and “in the blessed prairies.”

1.35 _________ According to Natty, there was a possibility that he and his unbelieving son “shallyet stand together” in heaven.

1.36 _________ Natty’s last word was “No!”

William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878). Knownmore for his poems than his journalism, Bryantwas an influential writer in both genres. Hispoems, heavy with British Romanticism, helpedto establish the Romantic movement in America.His editorials on slavery, women’s rights, andfreedom of religion helped to shape Americansocial and political views.

The son of a backwoods physician, Bryant wastaught to appreciate the classics and nature. As ayoung boy, he set many of the psalms to rhyme.However, as a teenager Bryant departed from hisBible-oriented upbringing and became interestedin Romanticism. His favorite brand of romanticswere known as the “graveyard poets.” As theirname indicates, these writers were captivated bythe topic of death. Bryant’s first version ofThanatopsis, which means “meditation on death,” emerged during his reading of thesepoets. At fifteen, Bryant entered Williams College but dropped out with the hope ofentering Yale. Tuition was too expensive, so instead, Bryant decided to read law. Afterthree years of independent study, he passed the Massachusetts bar and practiced lawfor ten years. Bryant continued to write poetry but with a voice that was drifting far-ther and farther from the Puritan doctrines of his past. In 1821 the same year that hemarried Frances Fairchild, Bryant published a small collection of poems.

24Hopkins Hall at William’s College

Evening Post

In 1825 Bryant moved to New York City with the hope of embarking on a literarycareer. Soon after arriving, he was accepted into the art scene, joining the Bread andCheese Club. For a time, Bryant was editor of the New York Review and AthenoeumMagazine. After these endeavors failed, he became an editorial assistant on theEvening Post. Within two years, Bryant became part owner and editor-in-chief,retaining his position until his death. With his effective editorials, Bryant turned theEvening Post into one of the most respected publications in the country. Bryant wasguided by principle in his political views, rather than by party loyalty. He supportedthe Democratic Party with its anti-slavery Free-Soil movement. However, in 1855, hehelped to form the Republican Party.

Although he is considered a major figure in American verse, Bryant wrote very lit-tle poetry. His themes of nature, death, and the past held together in a classical formhave caused critics to liken him to the British Romantic poet William Wordsworth.

We can see in Thanatopsis, that Bryant was a Romantic who was quickly turningtoward transcendentalism. Nature does not offer merely a better way of life, but alsocomfort in death. For Bryant and the poets who would soon follow him, man is but a“brother to the insensible rock.”

� Fill in each of the blanks using items from the following word list.graveyard poets political women’s rightsRomantic William Wordsworth

1.37 Bryant’s poems helped to establish the ___________________________________________movement inAmerica.

1.38 Bryant’s editorials on slavery, ___________________________________________ , and freedom of reli-gion helped to shape American social and ___________________________________________ views.

1.39 The first version of Thanatopsis, emerged during Bryant’s reading of the “ ___________________________________________ .”

1.40 Bryant has been likened to the British poet ___________________________________________ .

What to Look For:

Bryant’s godlike view of Nature shines through as he considers the meaning of death. He finds com-fort in the fact that his body will be turned to dust and find eternal communion with Nature.Believing that there is nothing beyond the grave, Bryant is not fearful. Notice that even the rhythmof his poem is soothing. As you read, think about the truth of Hebrews 9:27: “It is appointed for mento die once and after this comes judgment.” Should Bryant, as an unbeliever, view death as a comfort?

Thanatopis. The title means “meditation on death.” Originally written when Bryant was only sixteenyears old, he revised it several times.

To him who in the love of Nature holdsCommunion with her visible forms, she speaksA various language: for his gayer hoursShe has a voice of gladness, and a smileAnd eloquence of beauty, and she glides 5Into his darker musings with a mildAnd healing sympathy that steals awayTheir sharpness ere* he is aware. When thoughtsOf the last bitter hour come like a blightOver thy spirit, and sad images 10Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,

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Thanatopis

And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,*Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart,Go forth under the open sky and listTo Nature’s teachings, while from all around 15Earth and her waters, and the depths of airComes a still voice:*

Yet a few days, and theeThe all-beholding sun shall see no moreIn all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,Where thy pale form was laid with many tears, 20Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall existThy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claimThy growth, to be resolved to earth again,And, lost each human trace, surrendering upThine individual being, shalt thou go 25To mix forever with the elements,To be a brother to the insensible rockAnd to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain*Turns with his share* and treads upon; the oakShall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mould. 30

Yet not to thine eternal resting-placeShalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wishCouch* more magnificent. Thou shalt lie downWith patriarchs of the infant world, with kings,The powerful of the earth, the wise, the good, 35

Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,All in one mighty sepulchre. The hillsRock-ribbed and ancient as the sun; the valesStretching in pensive quietness between;The venerable woods, rivers that move 40In majesty, and the complaining brooksThat make the meadows green; and, poured round all,Old Ocean’s gray and melancholy waste,—Are but the solemn decorations allOf the great tomb of man. The golden sun, 45The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,Are shining on the sad abodes of death,Through the still lapse of ages. All that treadThe globe are but a handful to the tribesThat slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 50Of morning,* pierce the Barcan* wilderness,Or lose thyself in the continuous woodsWhere rolls the Oregon, and hears no soundSave his own dashings; yet the dead are thereAnd millions in those solitudes, since first 55The flight of years began, have laid them downIn their last sleep, the dead reign there alone.So shalt thou rest; and what if thou withdrawin silence from the living, and no friendTake note of thy departure? All that breathe 60Will share thy destiny. The gay will laughWhen thou art gone, the solemn brood of carePlod on, and each one as before will chaseHis favorite phantom; yet all these shall leaveTheir mirth and their employments, and shall come 65And make their bed with thee. As the long train

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Of ages glide away, the sons of men—The youth in life’s green spring, and he who goesIn the full strength of years, matron and maid,The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man— 70Shall one by one be gathered to thy sideBy those who in their turn shall follow them.

So live, that when thy summons comes to joinThe innumerable caravan which movesTo that mysterious realm where each shall take 75His chamber in the silent halls of death,Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothedBy an unfaltering trust, approach thy graveLike one who wraps the drapery of his couch 80About him and lies down to pleasant dreams.

ere - beforenarrow house - coffinswain - a country ladshare - plowsharecouch - a bedstill voice - compare with 1 Kings 19:12wings of the morning - borrowed from the language of Psalm 139:9Barcan - reference to a desert region in North Africa

� Answer true or false for each of the following statements.

1.41 _________ According to lines 13–15, Bryant believes that if the thought of death makesyou “grow sick at heart,” you should listen to Nature.

1.42 _________ According to line 16, the “still voice” that Bryant hears is the God of the Bible.

1.43 _________ According to lines 22–30, our bodies will decay and became part of the earth.

1.44 _________ According to lines 60 and 61, not everyone who breathes will die.

1.45 _________ According to lines 73–81, Bryant encourages the reader that to be “sustainedand soothed” by death will bring nothing more than “pleasant dreams.”

Review the material in this section in preparation for the Self-Test, which will check yourmastery of this particular section. The items missed on this Self-Test will indicate specificareas where restudy is needed for mastery.

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SELF-TEST 1

Answer true or false for each of the following statements (each answer, 3 points).

1.01 _________ Europe was the standard by which American society and culture were judged.

1.02 _________ The pessimistic spirit of the immigrants did not help to fuel advances in farm-ing, transportation, and industry.

1.03 _________ As America flourished both politically and economically, so did its artisticdevelopment.

1.04 _________ American writers complained that the vast open landscape put limitations onthe topics about which they could write.

1.05 _________ American writers traveled to Europe in search of money.

1.06 _________ Romanticism focused on the individual’s imagination and feelings.

1.07 _________ Romanticism replaced God’s Word with reason.

1.08 _________ According to the Romantic, nature was innocent and man was essentially good.

1.09 _________ The two groups from New York City that fostered literary and artistic accom-plishments were the Knickerbockers and the Independents.

Underline the correct answer for each of the following statements (each answer, 3 points).

1.010 James Fenimore Cooper was America’s first (poet, novelist, politician).

1.011 In the Leatherstocking Tales, Cooper created America’s first fictional (mother, outcast,hero).

1.012 Cooper has been recognized as America’s first (political, social, religious) critic.

Answer true or false for each of the following statements (each answer, 3 point).

1.013 _________ Middleton and Paul found Natty Bumppo approaching death.

1.014 _________ Natty’s son believed in the God of the Bible and “in the blessed prairies.”

1.015 _________ According to Natty, there is a possibility that he and his unbelieving son “shallyet stand together” in heaven.

1.016 _________ Natty’s last word is “No!”

Fill in each of the blanks using items from the following word list (each answer, 3 points).

Catskill entertain writerGeorge Washington German William Wordsworthhen-pecked idleness twentypetticoat political women’s rightsRomantic sleep

1.017 Rip Van Winkle’s village was founded by Dutch colonists in the_______________________________ Mountains.

1.018 Rip was a kind neighbor and an obedient, _______________________________ husband.

1.019 Dame Van Winkle continually dinned in Rip’s ears about his _______________________________ ,his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing his family.

1.020 After drinking from the liquor-filled keg, Rip fell into a deep _______________________________ .28

1.021 Rip slept for _______________________________ years.

1.022 Rip was happy to be freed from the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle, which he called the_______________________________ government.

1.023 Washington Irving was the first American to achieve international fame as a_______________________________ .

1.024 By placing _______________________________ folk tales in an American setting, Irving gaveAmerica a legendary past.

1.025 Irving’s goal was to _______________________________ , not to inform.

1.026 Bryant’s poems helped to establish the _______________________________movement in America.

1.027 Bryant’s editorials on slavery, _______________________________ , and freedom of religionhelped to shape American social and _______________________________ views.

1.028 Bryant has been likened to the British poet _______________________________ .

Answer true or false for each of the following statements (each answer, 3 points).

1.029 _________ According to lines 14–15 of Thanaposis, Bryant believed who if the thought ofdeath makes you “grow sick at heart,” you should listen to Nature.

1.030 _________ According to lines 60 and 61 of Thanaposis, not everyone that breathes will die.

1.031 _________ According to lines 73–81 of Thanaposis, Bryant encouraged the reader that tobe “sustained and soothed” by death will bring nothing more than “pleasantdreams.”

For Thought and Discussion:

Discuss with a parent/teacher your thoughts on Bryant’s poem Thanatopsis. Be sure to compare thedifferences between Bryant’s view of death and what Hebrews 9:27–28 says. Explain the comfort thatthe Christian finds in death.

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Score ________

Teacher check _______________Initial Date

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