Main currents in American thought An interpretation of American literature from the beginnings to 1920
effective. The rollicking burlesque of the Tory argument, the telling
_reductio ad absurdum_ of the Tory logic, must have tickled the ears of
every Whig and provoked many a laugh in obscure chimney-seats. Laughter
is a keen weapon, and Trumbull’s gayety laid open weak spots in the
Tory armor that were proof against Freneau’s invective. It was a rare
note in those acrimonious times, and one likes Trumbull the better for
minding his manners and engaging in the duel like a gentleman. After
all, this son of Yale had certain characteristics of the intellectual,
and if his environment had been favorable and the law had not claimed
him, very likely he would have given a better account of the talents
that were certainly his. He wrote with ease if not with finish, and he
possessed the requisite qualities of a man of letters. A lovable man he
seems to have been, but somewhat easy-going, too lightly turned away
from his purpose; and in consequence his later life failed to realize
the expectations of his early years.
That he was not a Loyalist was probably due in large measure to
environment and his family connections. Considering his temperament,
it is not easy to discover any logical reason why he should have
turned Whig. He had never suffered in his own fortune from existing
arrangements; he was not a political idealist to throw the glamor of
republicanism about the struggle; he had not subjected the colonial
question to critical analysis. He was an academic dilettante,
unconcerned with political principles, little more than an echo of the
Connecticut gentry in such matters; and if he espoused the Whig cause
it is a pretty good indication that Yale College was indoctrinated
in Whig principles. An echo he remained throughout his life. When
later he became a Federalist and enjoyed some of the emoluments of
party victory, and when later still democracy lifted up its head in
Connecticut, wearing the French cockade, and bringing down upon it
the wrath of all respectable people, he reflected faithfully the views
of his class. John Trumbull was a moderate liberal, but no leveler, no
democrat, no friend to Jeffersonian heresies. Democracy he detested
heartily, and he joined with the other Hartford Wits to draw its
portrait in unflattering terms. As a Connecticut gentleman he was
insistent on the supremacy of the tie-wig in government as well as in
society; he would scarcely have been a Connecticut gentleman had he
thought otherwise.
2. Francis Hopkinson, Esq.
If the career of Trumbull indicates that Whiggery existed among the
young collegians of Connecticut, the career of Francis Hopkinson
suggests that the culture of Philadelphia, the great center of
fashion and wit, was Whiggish also. That it should have been so is
the more noteworthy, for the Quaker spirit of Philadelphia was far
less militant than the Puritan spirit of Boston; more peaceful, if
not more conservative. The city had long been dominated by a group
of sober merchants who detested the leveling tendencies of New
England. But the domination of these older men was passing; a younger
generation, more aggressive in trade and speculation, was rising to
power; and that Philadelphia finally went with the Whigs was due to the
influence of these younger merchants. When it became clear that the
commercial interests of men like Robert Morris and George Clymer were
disadvantaged by the connection with England, the ardor of patriotism
grew stronger, and talk of independence became common. No sooner had
business come out for independence than culture swung over; the wit
which would gladly have remained loyal applauded the comments of the
countinghouse, and the newspaper essay reflected the new patriotic
sentiments.
Chief among the Philadelphia wits was Francis Hopkinson, Esq., a
charmingly versatile dilettante, who to the vocation of the law and the
bench of admiralty, joined the polite avocations of painting, music,
natural philosophy, and literature. He was indisputably clever, full of
innumerable sprightly enthusiasms, and master of cultivated speech and
manners. Of his skill in painting and music we cannot judge, but of his
literary accomplishments the record has been preserved. Life seems to
have been an agreeable experience to him, and if his dainty enthusiasms
were a marvel to John Adams,[283] it would indicate that society in
Philadelphia in 1775 was far more refined than in provincial Boston.
Hopkinson possessed ample means to gratify his polite tastes, and
had long moved in the most exclusive circles. The son of an eminent
lawyer, he had received the best education available in the colonies,
after which he went abroad to acquire old-world polish. Some fourteen
months were spent in England, where, as a near kinsman of the Bishop
of Worcester, he frequented the best English society, made the
acquaintance of eminent men, and even enjoyed the distinction of
dining with my Lord North. On his return he prudently fell in love
with an heiress of the Bordens, of Bordentown, and turned Jerseyman
the better to administer his wife’s estates. He entered the law, and
doubtless at the solicitation of his kinsman the Bishop, he became a
beneficiary of ministerial patronage: receiving appointment in 1772
to a sinecure post as collector of customs at Newcastle, and two
years later being made mandamus councilor for New Jersey--a somewhat
hazardous post, considering the nature of the office and the temper
of the people. Already in Massachusetts certain gentlemen had learned
that the compliment of royal recognition might cost too dear a price.
That Hopkinson should have been tendered such an appointment as late as
1774, shows that he was regarded by the ministry as good Tory material.
During the anxious months of 1774, when intelligent Americans were
trying to forecast the outcome of the growing radicalism of the
colonial temper, Hopkinson must have done some serious thinking; with
the result that when in September the Continental Congress assembled
in Philadelphia, he offered to the members as his contribution to the
discussion a clever little allegory wherein the whole question at issue
between England and the colonies was sketched with a light touch that
is an agreeable relief from the arguments of the official debaters. In
_A Pretty Story_ Hopkinson is frankly pro-colonial, and offers his wit
to the service of his country. It is not a great work, but it shows
that he had definitely put aside the ministerial temptation--probably
to the disgust of the good Bishop--and had gone over to the Whigs. Two
years later he took a seat in the Congress, and within a week voted
for the Declaration of Independence, aligning himself against the
conservative group led by his fellow townsman, John Dickinson.
What impelled Hopkinson to so momentous a shift in political
opinion can be explained by no records that have been preserved,
and must remain a matter of conjecture. Even less than Trumbull was
he revolutionary in temper. His Whiggery was probably commercial
in origin, a reflection of the economic interests of the merchant
class with which he mingled. That he went so far as to attack the
aristocratic spirit of the English government--its debauching of public
servants and its sordid motives--may have been due quite as much to a
refined integrity as to partisan advantage; but for an aristocrat to
attack the aristocratic principle of government was unusual as it was
dangerous for his class. But though he turned Whig he was no agrarian
to substitute the majority will for the royal prerogative; and when the
war was over and political re-alignment was under way, Hopkinson went
with his group, became a stout Federalist, defended the Constitution,
and enjoyed his share of the party emoluments. His wit was unembittered
by the acrimonious disputes of Jacobin days, and his partisanship
retained its note of casual sprightliness through the dogdays of the
nineties.
His chief contributions to the debate over the Constitution were _The
New Roof_ and _Objections to the Proposed Plan of a Federal Government
for the United States, on Genuine Principles_. They are delightfully
clever, but the cleverness cannot conceal a good-natured contempt for
the democratic underling and all his ways. The attitude of aristocratic
superiority is the more striking for its easy bearing. The first is
an implied eulogy of James Wilson, Scotch lawyer of Philadelphia, who
as master-architect finds his plans for erecting a splendid roof over
a “certain Mansion-house” violently opposed by Margery, a slattern
midwife, for no better reason than that “in the construction of the
new roof, her apartments would be considerably lessened.” Margery, of
course, is agrarian democracy, and to further her interests she incites
three worthless servants to testify that the old leaky roof is better
than the one proposed. Naturally their flimsy arguments are laughed out
of court, and the wisdom of the architect is apparent to all except a
“half-crazy fellow”[284] who filled the air with his “fustian,” making
himself a general nuisance to the disgust of all respectable people.
In the second of the two works, Hopkinson gives freer rein to his
polite fancy, figuring the opposition to the Constitution under the
form of a Wheelbarrow Society at the city gaol. Within those walled
precincts, he suggests, the most advanced advocates of natural liberty
may be found, and there the monstrous crime of the Constitution is
most eloquently exposed. How foolish is this America that persists in
believing what able lawyers and reputable gentlemen say of the merits
of the document, and refuses to intrust the making of a fundamental law
to such true liegemen of democracy as these knights of the chain-gang!
It is all very witty, and provokes its laugh, and serves its purpose
of heaping on the head of the opposition the class prejudice that was
indignant at the insolence of plebeians in holding contrary views on
a subject quite beyond their comprehension. But times change, and the
sprightliest wit may lose its savor. Those old Federalist skits are as
dead today as the marvelous pageant got up by Hopkinson to celebrate
the adoption of the Constitution, an affair which greatly pleased the
amiable little gentleman, a detailed account of which he prepared
for the definitive edition of his works, where it may be read by the
curious.
If Francis Hopkinson is no very important figure in our literary
history, he is not without significance as a representative of our
colonial culture that deliberately chose to be Whig rather than Tory.
He risked much and he was amply rewarded. For years he sat on the bench
of the Court of Admiralty, sparkled at dinners, and was a respected
and influential member of a genteel society. If the recompense for his
services during the perilous days was greater than fell to the lot of a
democrat like Philip Freneau, who will wonder? Like rewards like, and
the days of democratic rewards were not yet come in America.
II • The Tory Satirists
1. Jonathan Odell
Amongst the occasional writers who dedicated extemporized couplets
to the defense of Toryism in America, there can be no doubt to whom
belongs the primacy. Jonathan Odell was easily first as a purveyor of
virulent Loyalist rhyme. Of the sternest Puritan ancestry, Odell was
educated in medicine, and saw service in the West Indies as surgeon
to his Majesty’s forces. Turning Anglican he was ordained priest
in London, and came home to his native colonies as a missionary, to
further the cause of episcopacy. Busily engaged with parochial duties,
he chose to remain aloof from all political disputes, and during the
early months of the war he refrained from taking sides. Unfortunately,
however, he made acquaintances among some captive British officers,