Reflections. Ramblings. A Challenge Soon to Be Fulfilled.

“Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.  […] No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.”  —Robert Frost, “The Figure a Poem Makes”

Reflections

Immediately after my August 8 speaking engagement at the Charleston Library Society—where I solved Colonial Charleston’s biggest literary mystery by identifying Alexander Gordon, Esq., Clerk of His Majesty’s Council, as the author of The Humourist essays that had appeared pseudonymously in the South Carolina Gazette during 1753-1754—one of my faithful followers emailed me, “Have you come down from your Cloud Nine yet?”  As you might imagine, I responded with, “Not quite:  I’m always on one cloud or another!”  And I am.

In that sense—and in keeping with The Humourist himself—I, too, am an aerial spirit!

Truly, even now, I am still on Cloud Nine.  Being able to solve this major literary mystery is a highlight—perhaps the highlight—of my long and fruitful journey as a researcher.

Even so, my work with The Humourist—Alexander Gordon, Esq., Clerk of His Majesty’s Council (how wonderful–no, how utterly thrilling–to say “Alexander Gordon”)—is not finished!  I have a lot of work that remains to be done.  Rest assured:  my Blog will continue!

Ramblings

Just how my Blog will continue remains to be seen!  Just as Robert Frost believed that a poem should ride along on its own melting, I believe that research should move along in like fashion:  on its own melting.

I’m still thinking about some of the wonderful questions asked by the audience when I did my “Big Reveal” on August 8:

  • “When he came to South Carolina, did he bring his wife?”
  • “You mentioned that he had a son and a daughter, what happened to them?”
  • “Have you been able to locate any of his descendants?”
  • “Was he involved in Charleston’s theatrical performances?”

I couldn’t really answer those questions, simply because I do not know—yet.

How ironic that I know a lot about Alexander Gordon’s life in Scotland, England, and Italy—where he was a well-known and respected historian and performer—and yet I know so relatively little about his life in South Carolina—nearly two decades—where he held a prominent position:  Clerk of His Majesty’s Council.

Right now, I am feeling compelled to write the South Carolina chapter of Alexander Gordon’s life. So, for now, I plan to return to the South Carolina Gazette to discover everything that I can about Gordon from his arrival in South Carolina until his death in 1754.  I need to write this chapter in his life.  No, I must do so—if not me, who? And I  shall do so.

The task will not be an easy one since I will have to read the South Carolina Gazette on microfilm, but, I am blessed to be able to do so!

Please, join me here, as I share with you the highlights of Alexander Gordon’s life in Colonial South Carolina!  That will be the beginning of my ramblings!  Thereafter my research will “ride along on its own melting”!

A Challenge Soon to Be Fulfilled

Do you remember my Controlled Revelation 13?

Well, of course you do!  And if you follow Comments that my readers make, no doubt you will remember the one from Curious:

The announcement notes, “1 unfinished poem.” Perhaps you, Dr. Kendrick, would be willing to finish the poem? I know it would be marvelous……

And I am sure that you will remember my reply:

Interesting though the task might be, it must be taken on by someone more poetically gifted than I.  I am flattered, Curious, but I confess:  my poetic flights are no better than the “Dragon of Wantley”!

(The poem, by the way, is The Humourist’s “The Temple of Happiness:  An Allegorical Poem.”)

It is my great pleasure to announce that … Continue reading

Colonial Charleston’s Biggest Literary Mystery Is Solved!

Candidly, the name in the obituary meant nothing to me in and of itself.  However, I knew that I had to explore it to see whether that person might have been The Humourist. Luckily for me, I hit pay dirt.  All of the clues—all the patterns—that I had found in the essays lined up perfectly with everything that I was to find out about the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon.

Solving Colonial Charleston’s Biggest Literary Mystery

A Presentation at The Charleston Library Society

Charleston, SC

Thursday, August 8, 2013

6:00PM

Thank you for such a warm welcome.  You make me feel quite at home. I want to extend my deepest thanks to the Society’s “Special Events and Programs” Committee for inviting me here as well as for their impressive publicity promoting my work on The Humourist.  Actually, I was blown away earlier this week when I went to the Society’s web site and saw:  “Join us for Colonial Charleston’s Biggest Literary Mystery!”  Thank you!

I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to be with you this evening.  I’m thrilled for two reasons.

First, libraries and librarians hold a special place in my heart.  Before I became a professor of English at Lord Fairfax Community College in Virginia, I worked for twenty five years at The Library of Congress where I fell in love with books, where I fell in love with research, and where I fell in love with life-long learning.    And simply because we are all gathered together this evening, I know that libraries, librarians, and lifelong learning are important to you as well.

Here’s the second reason why I’m thrilled to be with you.  For me, this is a homecoming of sorts.  My work on The Humourist—your very own Humourist, your very own writer, living right here in Colonial Charleston—actually  began right here in The Charleston Library Society in 1973—forty years ago—when I was a doctoral student at The University of South Carolina, taking a Colonial American Literature class with Professor Calhoun Winton.  I remember the details well.  I was reading Leo LeMay’s Bibliographical Guide to the Study of Southern Literature, and in it he noted that The Humourist essays were of such high caliber that someone needed to edit them, publish them, and identify the author.

I was intrigued and challenged.  The essays appeared originally in the South Carolina Gazette.  Only one complete run of the newspaper exists, and it’s housed right here in the Charleston Library Society.

So for an entire semester, I traveled here from Columbia on weekends where inside these walls I read and studied The Humourist essays and came to agree with LeMay:  these were some of the best Colonial American essays that I had ever read.

However, I didn’t do anything further with Professor Lemay’s challenge, except to file it away in my mental storehouse of “one-day, some-day” ideas to be tackled further down the road when the time was right.  Instead I went on to edit the letters of New England writer, Mary E. Wilkins Freeman, and to publish them as The Infant Sphinx:  Collected Letters of Mary E. Wilkins Freeman.  Instead I went on to pursue a fabulous career at The Library of Congress.

Now, four decades later, I discovered to my surprise—and, candidly, to my joy—that no one else has accepted Professor Lemay’s challenge.  The Humourist essays that he lauded have remained unedited, unpublished, and the author unidentified.

Now, four decades later, as a 2012-2014 Chancellor’s Professor in the Virginia Community College System, I have the opportunity—a second chance, if you will—to be the student who takes Professor Lemay’s idea and runs with it. I have the opportunity to be the student who brings these essays to full light.  I have the opportunity to be the student who sees to it that these essays take their rightful place in the American literary canon.  And I have the opportunity to be the student who solves the mystery:  Who wrote those essays?

That why I’m here tonight:  to share with you what I have been doing with these essays during the last year, and—based on a preponderance of textual clues in the essays—to announce for the first time ever the author—the man who up until tonight has been Colonial Charleston’s biggest literary mystery.

My goal is a simple one:  make these essays available not only to students, professors, and scholars but also to the reading public at large.

Last fall, I launched a blog titled “The Wired Researcher,” and in it I have shared with students, faculty, and everyone who is interested my personal research experiences—“live,” from start to finish:  my work, my methods, my discoveries, my challenges and frustrations, and my joys.

Let me share with you the general flavor and background of The Humourist essays.

If you open up November 26, 1753, issue of The South Carolina Gazette—and you can, right here in this Library—you will notice the first of many essays to be published in that newspaper under the title, “The Humourist.”  With the note, “From my chambers in the air,” the essay begins:

It is necessary to premise that I am a Man of a peculiar odd Way of Thinking, and I shall consequently make myself very merry at the Particularities of other People. Thus much for Preface. 

The Humourist will never pester the World with incoherency or unnatural Occurrences, under the specious Pretence of painting true Life or copying after Nature.  Thus much for Self-Praise.

Then, after providing a fast-paced, informed, and comprehensive overview of literary tastes ranging all the way back to “past times” and all the way up to the new  literary genre of his day, the novel— which, by the way, he calls “Novel writing without Reason, and Lies without Meaning”—he ends his first essay with:

The utmost Aim of my Compositions shall be directed to please; and if I now and then chance to tour uncommon Heights, the World must understand that I am improving the Method of Writing, and that my Habitation is in the Air.

I am an aerial Spirit; and as an inducement to the World to Read my Paper, they may shortly expect a Present of my Picture, which, like the Statue of Mercury in the Fable, shall be thrown into the Bargain.

As we continue to read the weekly Gazette through December 1753 and through January, February, March, and April of 1754, we uncover a total of 17 essays, 7 letters that The Humourist wrote to himself using various other pseudonymns, 3 poems, 2 advertisements, and 2 related items—all by “The Humourist.”  Finally, on April 9, 1754, we come to his “Retirement Notice”.  Let me read the opening sentence:

The Humourist is become an Invalid, and as he loves Retirement must quit the foolish busy World, and please his vacant Hours with the secret Satisfaction of having intentionally displeased no one.

I’ll come back to this “Retirement Notice” later in my talk.  For now, suffice it to say that the essays which began so mysteriously ended thus strangely and inexplicably.  The retirement notice was the last contribution by “The Humourist.”

As a professor of American Literature, I can tell you—and, for now, you’ll have to take my word for it until you read the The Humourist’s essays in my blog:  at this point in America’s development—1753/1754—we simply don’t have essays of this caliber, even in New England, and we certainly don’t have true essays of this caliber from this time period in the South.  The Humourist is a new voice, a fresh voice who deserves to be read widely, who deserves to be celebrated widely, and who deserves to be anthologized widely so that future generations are mindful of the important contributions that he made.

The work that I have been doing with The Humourist essays has offered several challenges.  The first challenge relates to editing and annotating a collection of essays that exists in the only surviving copy of the South Carolina Gazette housed here in the Charleston Library Society.  Fortunately, and with Rob Salvo’s help—and before him, with the help of Carol Butler here at the Society—I have completed that task, and I have made a preliminary version of the essays available in my blog, The Wired Researcher.  Formal publication will follow in a year or two.

The second challenge relates to conducting the authorship study—the challenge of solving this literary whodunit mystery!  I’ve done so, in large part, simply by giving the essays what is called a “close-reading.”  This is an ancient method, going all the way back to Roman literary critic Quintilian.  (The Humourist himself would be delighted because he, too, was familiar with Quintilian, quoted him on at least one occasion, and knew the value of paying attention to language and all of its details!  That’s what I’m doing:  paying attention to details—cataloging them, if you will, and cross referencing them to establish patterns.

For the last few months, I have shared my “close readings” with my blog audience in a weekly post called “Controlled Revelation.”  Clearly I had to control how much I divulged about the author in any given week because I didn’t want my readers to solve the literary mystery prematurely!

So, week by week, I’ve analyzed the essays and revealed—in a controlled manner—what I have found.  Let me share with you some of the highlights of those clues—the patterns—that have surfaced.  Again, keep in mind that these are simply highlights.  You can read the full discussion in my blog.

Here are some broad patterns.

The Humourist  knows the classics including:  Aristotle, Virgil, Horace, Longinus, Quintilian, Dionysius, Plutarch.

The Humourist knows history and talks about:  Tacitus, Trajan, Pope Adrian VI, and Borgia.  One of his most frequently used words is Ancients. (His reference to Borgia is important.  Later on you will see why.)

The Humourist knows literature and quotes from:  Shakespeare, Milton, Spencer, Samuel Butler, James Thompson, Edward Young, Samuel Garth, Fielding.

The Humourist knows poetry, evidenced not only by his extensive poetic references  but also by his own poetic flights.  He wrote three poems, “Song by The Humourist,” “The Rising Beauty,” and his unfinished allegorical poem “Happiness.”

The Humourist knows drama:  Shakespeare.  Bayes Rehearsal. He talks about the records of drama.  And, equally important, he shows himself knowledgeable of theatrical language.   (Remember “theatrical language.”  You’ll see why later on.)

The Humourist knows painting, drawing, and engraving:  This is a really important clue, so I want to focus on it a little more fully.  You will recall that even in his first essay he comments:  “as an inducement to the World to Read my Paper, they may shortly expect a Present of my Picture.”  In one of his later essays, he writes a letter to himself under the pseudonym, Proteus Maggot, and he encloses a “catalog of several paintings and drawings.”   The offerings, of course are fictitious, but they show The Humourist’s knowledge of painting and drawing and engraving:

  • An antique whole Length of Signior Adam. Notice his use of the Italian word Signior.  Later on you will see why it is important.
  • Several half Lengths of Nimrod, Alexander, Julius Caesar, Nero, Borgia, Lewis 14th, Charles 12th.  Again, keep in mind his reference to Borgia.  Later on you will see why it is important.
  • Above 500 grotesque Pieces (several in Chinese Taste) of which the Humourist Family are generally great Connoisseurs:  Many of these are Drawings and Etchings, and give great Light into Antiquity, and a Display of the unaccountable Humours of the Ancients.
  • Half-finished Pieces of Miscellaeous Matters not yet arranged in Order, among which are, the Flight of the Long-Bay, Impregnable Fortresses constructed of Sana and Oyster-Shell, a Church half-finished, Plantations deserted, a View of Georgia, Acts of Assembly made into Kites, etc.  (Note well his reference to Acts of Assembly.)

In addition to his in-depth knowledge of painting and drawing, The Humourist knows about Egyptian mummies:  In one of his essays, he writes a letter to himself under the pseudonym Peter Hemp.   In the letter Peter Hemp makes a most interesting  comment about Green Tar, who, he maintains “boasts of preserving the most antient Egyptian Mummies down to the Present Time.”  I am intrigued that The Humourist would mention something as esoteric as the preservation of Egyptian mummies.  We’ll come back to it.

And, as might be expected, The Humourist knows, loves, and promotes Colonial Charleston and Colonial South Carolina and makes several references to the General Assembly, almost as if he had insider information about the Assembly’s undertakings.  Later on you will understand why his references to the General Assembly are important.

In terms of loving Charleston, in his January 1, 1754, essay exploring New Year’s customs and traditions, he writes:

It is evident, that the Ancients looked upon those Customs as promotive of the social Duties, and as so many Obligations of the Performance of them.  I am sorry to say, that modern Elegance is endeavouring to suppress these noble Emanations, but I am far more grieved to own, that such Virtues are incompatible with modern Graces.

It is with Sincerity I offer my Thoughts on this Subject, tho’ far more unnecessary in this Place (than in my others) where so noble a Generosity, joined with an hospitable Dignity, prevails.

In another essay he discloses the general location of where he lived in Charleston, observing that he is a “Man of Penetration, and can, with surprising Discernment, see a Church by Day-Light.”  In fact, The Humourist had a home on what is now Meeting Street and indeed he would have been able to see St. Michael’s Church.

Also, the essays show The Humourist to be a promoter of South Carolina.  He recognized the challenges facing the Colony of South Carolina in terms of industry, trade, manufacturing, and social issues, and he addressed them.

Writing under the pseudonym of as Alice Wish-For’t, the Humourist makes a strong plea for giving preference to commodities produced in South Carolina:

Nothing adds to the Wealth of a People and encourages Industry, than the Exclusion of foreign and Use of their own Manufactures.  All wise Nations and judicious Subjects, industriously avoid the purchasing of that from abroad, which they can be well supplied with at Home.

[…]

I confess myself quite unskill’d in Trade, therefore hope, the above Hints will be considered as arising from the Love of my Country.  I have a Fortune sufficient to purchase Wheat-Flour, yet chuse to eat nothing but Rice, because it’s of our own Growth; nor will I touch even a Piece of Johnny-cake, except made of Wheat-Flour sent from the Back-Settlements; all the Furniture of my House, etc. is of Carolina Make; so is my riding Chair, and most of my Cloaths; and Mr. Scott’s Beer (as soon as I saw his Advertisement) had the Preference to all foreign Liquours, and is become my constant Drink.  I wish every Lady in the Province was of my Humour; what a Number of Dollars should we then have at Command more than at present!

Writing under the pseudonym of Calx Pot-Ash, The Humourist makes a plea for manufacturing pot-ash along with rice and indigo and goes so far as to suggest that the proposal be taken to the General Assembly:

But, as the Reasonings of private Persons can seldom prevail against public Prejudice, I would ask your Advice, if it would be improper to recommend myself to the General Assembly, for their Encouragement and Support, as their Notice of me would bring great Numbers of British Subjects annually to settle your back Countries, would liquidate the Public Debts, and put your Currency on a Par with the Cash of your Mother Country. 

Writing under the pseudonym of Pine Green-Tar, The Humourist promotes green tar:

On further Enquiry, am told by Mr. Pot-Ash, Merchant, that He is of the same Sentiments with myself; and that we both should meet with Encouragement among you, had you any Person well skilled in bringing us to hear:  But the Process is so easy, and the Profits so considerable, that it’s amazing, you think it not worth while to send an ingenious Person to see how we are managed.

Writing under the pseudonym of Peter Hemp, the Humourist proposes that Indigo, Pot-Ash, Green Tar, and Hemp can live in one house along with Rice.

Finally, writing under the pseudonym of Urbanicus, The Humourist discusses:

  • Building a lighthouse with cannons on Cumming’s Island, for defense;
  • Building a pest-house for dealing with individuals infected with Small Pox;
  • Purchasing fire engines at the expense of the parishes of St. Philip and St. Michael to prevent future devastation by fire;
  • Tightening controls on the number of retailers licensed to sell liquor and on baking and the weight of bread;
  • Reviewing the qualifications of constables; (Remember that word—constables.  You’ll hear it later in my talk.)
  • Reminding plantation owners of the requirement to have one white person for every ten Negroes;
  • Building a jail of sufficient quality;
  • Walling in the White-Point section of Charleston to prevent hurricane damage; and, finally,
  • Building a bridge over Ashley-River. 

Of the proposed bridge, Urbanicus notes—if such a bridge is to be built, “to be sure there must be an Act passed for it. It would really be a good Thing:  And, if you, Mr. Humourist, are in the A—-y, we, and Thousands of others, hope you’ll befriend such a Bill.”  In terms of the word “A—-y,” The Humourist is using a convention standard that writers often use:  omitting letters from a word to suggest that they dare not use the word itself but providing enough letters that everyone would understand.  Thus, that part of the sentence becomes:  “if you … are in the Assembly, we and Thousands of others, hope you’ll befriend such a Bill.” Again, remember the General Assembly.

So, I’ve shared with you highlights—and they are just that:  highlights—of the clues that I found in the essays, and I have shared brief selections from the essays.

Now, let’s return to the Humourist’s final publication in the South Carolina Gazette, his Retirement Notice that I mentioned earlier in my talk.  It appeared on April 9, 1754.  It’s short, so I’ll read it all of it:

The HUMOURIST is become an Invalid, and as he loves Retirement must quit the foolish busy World, and please his vacant Hours with the secret Satisfaction of having intentionally displeased no one.  He thanks the Publick for having generously construed these Papers; but, for some private Reasons, is under a Necessity of declaring, that he will never more (either under this or any other Title, or on any Pretence, or on any Occasion whatsoever) enter the Lists of Authorism in this Province.

I was floored—no, flabbergasted—to see these wonderful Colonial American essays end so abruptly.  And what was I to make of this retirement notice?  Was it true?  Had The Humourist become an invalid, really?

As I pondered those questions, I recalled a lesson taught me by Sally Hambrick—librarian, mentor, friend—when I first started working at the Library of Congress.  Sally and I were both editors of The National Union Catalog, Pre-1956 Imprints, and one of our tasks often involved trying to establish authorship for works that appeared under titles only or that appeared under pseudonyms.  Our research often took us into the library stacks.  When we found the book that we were looking for, Sally would look at me and say, “Always remember to explore all the books 2 feet to the left and 2 feet to the right.  Those books will be in the same classification scheme, and we might find our answer there in one of them.”

So, it was from that research perspective that I kept exploring the South Carolina Gazette.  Two feet to the left and two feet to the right, if you will.  I re-read the entire newspaper for 1753 and 1754, up to The Humourist’s Final Notice.  Then I decided to keep reading.  “What if, “ I asked myself, “what if he really had become an invalid?  What if he died?  Maybe the Gazette would carry an obituary.”  I knew that was a long shot because based on my exploration of the Gazette for this period, obituaries did not appear that often.

At any rate, I followed my hunch, and I kept reading!  It paid off.  Four months after The Humourist’s “Retirement Notice,” The Gazette ran an obituary that made me sit up and take notice:

On Monday last died, of a Mortification, occasioned by the cutting of a Corn, the ingenious

I’ll stop reading the obituary at this point—even now, I want to control the revelation of The Humourist’s identity—I’ll save his name until the very end!

Keep in mind that mortification is a medical term that means gangrene.  Mortification occasioned by the cutting of a corn.  So, indeed, The Humourist had become an invalid when he posted his Retirement Notice.  And even though his departure from the New World was not a glorious one, whoever wrote his obituary notice knew that he was Ingenious.  Yes, indeed.  We see that trait in all his essays!

Candidly, the name in the obituary meant nothing to me in and of itself.  However, I knew that I had to explore it to see whether that person might have been The Humourist.

Luckily for me, I hit pay dirt.  All of the clues—all the patterns—that I had found in the essays lined up perfectly with everything that I was to find out about the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon.

Obviously, some of the individual clues that I discovered in The Humourist essays might point us to any number of learned and sophisticated people living here in Colonial Charleston.

But when all the clues in the essays—including the esoteric ones—point to one person—and to one person only—it provides rather irrefutable evidence that we have found our author.

Let’s do a crosswalk comparison.

The ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon was born around 1692, presumably in Aberdeen, Scotland.  He earned his master of arts’ degree at Aberdeen University, and was proficient in classical and modern languages and had a talent for music and fine art.  It appears that after leaving Aberdeen University, the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon taught languages, music, and possibly drawing in Aberdeen and may have been a traveling tutor in France, Germany, and Italy.  Remember:  the Humourist essays show extensive knowledge of the classics, of languages, of literature, and of drawing and painting.  Remember, too, his reference to Adam using the Italian term “Signior.”

Subsequently, and for a good number of years he achieved considerable distinction as an operatic tenor.  From 1716-1719, he made operatic appearances in Italy.   He returned to England in 1719 where a benefit concert for him was held at the Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London.  He continued to be involved in opera and the theater, though with less and less frequency, until 1741. During this period he wrote what appears to be his only play:  Lupone, or the Inquisitor:  A Comedy, published in 1731.  Remember:  the Humourist essays show extensive knowledge of the theater and of drama.

Aside from being involved in theater, the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled became interested in antiquarian studies and decided to investigate the Roman antiquities of Scotland and northern England.  His antiquarian explorations occupied his focus between 1723-24.  In 1725, he was elected to the Society of Antiquaries and to the Society of Roman Knights.  In the next year he published his Itinerarium Septentrionale:  or, A Journey thro’ Most of the Counties of Scotland, and those in England.  In two Parts.  The Whole Illustrated with Sixty-Six Copperplates.  The work is considered to be a “record of great contemporary importance and some lasting value.”  He continued his antiquarian studies concentrating on “Roman sites of the lowlands,” on the Agricolan advance, and on the Antoine Wall.  In the latter exploration, he was accompanied by James Glen, who was provost of Linlithgow and also an antiquarian.  In 1729, he published The Lives of Pope Alexander VI, and His Son Caesar Borgia.  (Pope Alexander VI and Caesar Borgia were Italian.)   In 1730, appeared his published A Compleat History of the Antient Amphitheatres, More Particularly Regarding the Architecture of these Buildings, and in Particular that of Verona.  And in 1733, he translated The Book of Common Prayer into ItalianRemember:  the Humourist essays show extensive knowledge of history and “the antients,” and the essays make specific reference to Borgia.

Also, do you remember when I mentioned that The Humourist essays show knowledge of Egyptian mummies?   

Well, the person whose obituary I had stumbled upon published two essays related to Egyptian mummies.  The first in 1737 titled An Essay towards Explaining the Antient Hieroglyphical Figures, on the Coffin of the Ancient Mummy Belonging to Captain William Lethieullier. The second, also in 1737: An Essay towards Explaining the Antient Hieroglyphical Figures on the Egyptian Mummy in the Museum of Doctor Mead, Physician in Ordinary to His MajestyThe person whose obituary I had stumbled upon also served for a short time as secretary to the Egyptian Club.

Finally, in 1741 the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon left the Old World and came to the New World as secretary to his old friend James Glen who was now the new Governor of South Carolina.  From then until his death in 1754, the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon served—here in Charleston—as Clerk of His Majesty’s Council.

Let me pause here to make a brief observation about Colonial South Carolina at this point in its history.  The “legislature was established consisting of two houses. The upper house was designated [as] His Majesty’s Council and consisted of 12 persons, who served unlimited terms, appointed by the King. The Council worked directly with the royal governor and further served as the highest judicial court. The Commons House of Assembly, elected by colonists, was the lower house. The two houses—jointly—were called, like their British counterpart, the ‘Parliament.’ The Parliament and the royal governor, when referred to as a singular entity, constituted what was known as the General Assembly.” [emphasis supplied.]

Remember:  The Humourist essays mention the General Assembly three times.  Remember, especially his comment, “If you, Mr. Humourist are in the Assembly.” 

Additionally, the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon served for a while as Registrar of the province and as Constable—a justice of the peace.  (Remember:  The Humourist mentions “constables” in his essays.) He prospered here. He owned land in Charles Town itself as well as in Ansonborough, profitably developed for houses. He became a member of the St. Andrew’s Society and “associated with the leading professional men of the province.” Finally, he wrote about colonial South Carolina, and in a description that he sent to the Royal Society he spoke of “its admirable fertility, and wonderful produce of unnumerable curious and useful things—the vine, wine, sesamum, oil for soap, cotton, mulberry, silkworms […] hemp, flax, potash, etc. etc.  But after all this profusion of nature’s bounty, the inhabitants … made no profit or improvement in any one article for commerce, employing themselves wholly in the culture of rice.” Remember: in his essays, he specifically advances the notion of buying  Carolina  products instead of importing foreign commodities , and on several occasions he makes the point that hemp and potash and indigo can live in the same house with rice and suggests such a proposal be taken to the General Assembly.

Finally, the Last Will and Testament of the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon contains several bequests along with a directive that reinforce my identification of the author of The Humourist essays.

These bequests deal specifically with paintings and drawings.

I give, devise, and bequeath unto the Honourable Hector Berrenger De Beaufain, Esq, his picture, portraiture, or effigies by me [ …] painted, drawn and represented as aforesaid.

I give, devise, and bequeath unto the Reverend Mr. Heywood, his picture, portraiture, or effigies by me [ … ] painted, drawn, and represented as aforesaid.

I give, devise, and bequeath unto my son Alexander Gordon, my own picture, together with all and singular the paintings, views, and other representations by me […] painted, drawn and represented.

Remember:  the Humourist essays show extensive knowledge of drawing and painting.

Finally, the directive in The Last Will and Testament deals with an unpublished manuscript about Egyptians.

It is my express will and desire, and I do hereby order and direct, that my said son shall, as conveniently as may be, cause to be printed and published my book now remaining in manuscript and titled, “A Critical Essay towards the Illustrating the History and Chronology of the Egyptians and other most Ancient Nations, from the Earliest Ages on Record till the Times  of Alexander the Great.”

Remember:  the Humourist essays show extensive knowledge of history and “the antients,” including a reference to Egyptian mummies.

I think that it is abundantly clear:  all of the clues—all the patterns—that I found in the essays line up perfectly with everything that I found out about the ingenious person whose obituary I had stumbled upon.

Now, to wrap up my presentation and to reveal—for the first time ever—The Humourist’s identity, let me return to the ingenious person’s obituary that I stumbled upon in the South Carolina Gazette for August 29, 1754.  This time I will include the name his name:

“On Monday last died, of a Mortification, occasioned by the cutting of a Corn, the ingenious Continue reading

Reminder: This Evening at 6PM I Will Reveal The Humourist’s Identity!

Don’t forget:  I will reveal The Humourist’s identity this evening, August 8, 6PM, at The Charleston Library Society where I will be the guest speaker.

I had hoped to provide a pre-recorded version of my presentation, but the audio file is too large!  So, I will provide you, instead, with my draft comments.  Be forewarned, however:  if you do not read it all from start to finish you will miss key points that allowed me to solve the mystery! 

So join me this evening in spirit!  6PM!  I’m counting on it!

This Week: I Will Reveal The Humourist’s Identity!

Don’t forget:  I will reveal The Humourist’s identity this coming Thursday, August 8, 6PM, at The Charleston Library Society where I will be the guest speaker. 

You can read more about the Speakers Series by visiting the website:  The Charleston Library Society.  When you get there, check out their Events and Programs.

The program is free and open to the public.  I’d love to see some of you there for this important revelation!  The Charleston Library Society is promoting my talk as “Colonial Charleston’s Biggest Literary Mystery”!

If you cannot join us, rest assured that I will provide coverage right here, orchestrated in a way that will allow you to find out The Humourist’s identity at the same time that I am disclosing it to those attending my live presentation:  6PM, Thursday, August 8.

Controlled Revelation #13: The Humourist as a Musical Virtuoso! Plus, A Curious Challenge!

This week, as we explore The Humourist’s essay of March 5, 1754, we see him once again as a master of sarcasm as he continues—and, thankfully, finishes—his mock literary analysis of the dreadful combat between Moore of Moore Hall and the Dragon of Wantley.  You might want to re-read the ballad:  “The Dragon of Wantley.”

As I noted last week, as a classicist The Humourist knew that the poem was not great literature and that it was hardly worthy of the nearly 700 words that he devoted to it initially.  Even so, he resumes his task on March 5, 1754, devotes his entire essay to his ongoing mock analysis, and does so with such exquisite sarcasm that what is ridiculous already becomes even more so.

I am intrigued.  Why would The Humourist be so interested in this nonsensical 1685 ballad?  To answer my question, I decided to do some quick research just to see how popular the poem was during The Humourist’s lifetime.  I am surprised by my findings!  The poem was wildly popular not only as a satirical ballad but also as a burlesque opera!

Here’s what Nick Adams has to say about “The Dragon of Wantley”:

The publication history of the ballad itself is intriguing. It was first published in 1685, although there is an undated edition presumed to be earlier (though possibly dating to earlier in 1685), and there are ten subsequent editions before its appearance in a mid-eighteenth century anthology, Thomas Percy’s Relics of Ancient Poetry of 1767. By this time, the reference to Rotherham is removed and the text is bowdlerised; so excising the local colour along with the rude bits. This is a lot of editions. Moreover, the ballad is included in published edition of Henry Carey’s The Dragon of Wantley (1737). This is perhaps the most improbable manifestation of them all. It is a burlesque opera, satirising the operatic conventions of the time, but tellingly also attacking the taxation policies of the Whig government of the time, led by Robert Walpole. Some of Carey’s burlesques are appealing, but it is pretty hard to say this of The Dragon of Wantley. Nevertheless, it was hugely successful, running for 69 performances (more even than The Beggar’s Opera, the big stage hit of the time). The play was similarly popular in printed form.

“The Dragon of Wantley” as a burlesque opera!  Well, of course!  Burlesque opera!  As a musical virtuoso, The Humourist would have been more than interested in this ballad!

Oh my goodness!  I think I just dropped a major clue!

I am aware, fully, that there is absolutely nothing in this essay—or, for that matter, in any of The Humourist’s essays—that points in the direction of The Humourist being a musical virtuoso!  However, I know enough about his life that I can make that statement!  You’ll find out all the details on August 8.

So let’s move on quickly, lest I reveal more than I should right now!  Let’s move on quickly to that which I can reveal:  the Curious Challenge of this week’s post! Continue reading

Controlled Revelation #12: The Humourist as Master of Sarcasm and as Promoter of Colonial South Carolina

Now that my “Vay-kay” has ended, I am back to The Humourist with more vim and vigor than before!

Today, we’ll be giving The Humourist’s essay of February 26, 1754, a close reading. However, before we start that analysis (and simply by way of reminder), I want to share with everyone my plan for these “Controlled Revelations.” (I shared it with you in my April 16 post.)

“[Here’s] my PLAN for sharing with you the extensive clues that have allowed me to solve this Colonial American “Literary Whodunit”.

“My plan is, as Dr. Watson might have said (but, in fact, did not say, except in the movies), “Elementary, dear Watson.”

“I have shared with you the Humourist’s essays, week by week without fail, since last November 26. As I shared them with you, I kept copious and extensive notes of my own reactions, insights, and investigative excursions. I have given his essays a carefully controlled and disciplined “close reading”. This is an ancient method, going all the way back to Roman rhetorician and literary critic Quintilian (Institutio Oratoria, composed about 92-96). (The Humourist himself would be delighted because he, too, was familiar with Quintilian, quoted him on at least one occasion, and knew the value of paying attention to every detail!)

“It goes without saying (I should hope) that while the controlled revelation of the clues will be important, of equal (or, perhaps, greater importance) will be the candid disclosure of my process: what clues led me to particular revelations and what clues came together, ultimately, to allow me solve this literary mystery.

“Starting next week, I will make my posts available on Monday. Thus, on Monday, April 22, I will share with you my close reading of the Humourist’s first essay from November 26, 1753. (Go ahead: click on the link and re-read that essay now. See what clues YOU find. Start with the obvious ones and see where they lead. I welcome your comments sharing your own observations and insights!)

“The following week (Monday, April 29), I’ll provide a close reading of the Humourist’s second essay. I will continue that week-by-week strategy until we have come full circle to the Humourist’s last essay.

“Then, dear followers, my controlled revelations will have ended. Then I will reveal the Humourist’s identity. The revelation will be stupendous!”

Today, I want to share one more detail regarding my Controlled Revelations plan.  It’s significant, so sit up and take notice!  Continue reading

Revelation!

I am confident that you will notice two things missing from the title of today’s post.  First, it doesn’t include the word Controlled.  Second, it is not numbered!

Here’s why:  I’m simply providing a revelation that even Wired-Researchers need vacations, and I’m away on one!  Or, as one of my esteemed friends (also a lover of language) would say, “I’m away on vay-kay.”  Here’s her take on the word:

I mostly deplore the ‘evolution’ of the English language, because it’s going the wrong way.  Down and ignorant and sloppy and ugly.  It’s the ‘ugly’ that really depresses me.

But every now and then a phrase or word pops up that takes my fancy and I like to use it.  ‘Vay-kay’ is one.  It is so funny to say it out loud.

It is funny to say it aloud, and I must say that I hear it from time to time.  It has made its way to various Urban dictionaries, but, thankfully, it has not made its way to our beloved Oxford English Dictionary!

In case you’re wondering where my “vay-kay” has taken me, I’m in the Mount Rogers National Recreation Area, located in Southwest Virginia.

If you’re into biking, then the 34 mile Virginia Creeper Trail connecting Damascus and Abingdon must be on your list of things to do.

If you’re into hiking, then the trek to the top of Mount Rogers, the highest point in the Virginia with a summit elevation of 5,729 feet, is a must-do.

Or, if you want some less strenuous hiking, explore Grayson Highlands.  You can’t go wrong.

Next week, I’ll be back with a Controlled Revelation!  In the meantime, I’m on vay-kay.

Controlled Revelation #11: The Humourist’s Reputation Preceded Him to Colonial South Carolina

“It is the office of justice to injure no man; of propriety, to offend none.”  —Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 BC), De Officiis, Book I:20

As  noted elsewhere, The Humourist was a man of considerable distinction in his own country, and, for that matter, he was well known throughout much of Europe.  So extensive was his reputation that he received rather frequent front-page coverage in numerous eighteenth century newspapers.  Obviously, when The Humourist arrived in Colonial South Carolina, his reputation preceded him.

He was a known authority—expert, if you will—in at least one area of study, and he was a master in several other areas.  Generally well respected, it seems, nonetheless, that he came to learn first hand (and, perhaps, the harsh way) the bitter reality behind Benjamin Franklin’s pithy saying, Glass, china, and reputation are easily cracked, and never mended well.”

In the “Old World,” many people saw him as someone whose ambitions often exceeded his grasp; as someone who took on many projects without seeing them all to successful completion; as someone who dabbled in many occupations so that he could earn enough money to keep creditors at bay; and as someone who was not always honest. Others saw him as fickle, mercurial, anti-Catholic, and overly zealous of his nationality.

These “cracks” in his reputation were not known to the public at large and, to be certain, they were never of such alarm or magnitude that they made it to the press.  Still, the cracks were there—in journals, diaries, and letters:  the sorts of documents to which The Humourist would not have been privy.  Generally, they were comments make by others about him, behind his back.  In that sense, I am reminded of what American novelist and newspaper/magazine editor would say many years later, What people say behind your back is your standing in the community.”

In the “New World,” it appears that The Humourist fared better.  Occupationally, he seems to have settled down to one or two positions, and he seems to have prospered.  He acquired land in Charleston, erected homes quite profitably, and participated in small groups focused on belles lettres. When he died, the inventory of his extensive estate suggests that he had enjoyed full success as a transplanted European.  Of his reputation, one word from his obituary is notable:  ingenious. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word thusly, “Having high intellectual capacity; able, talented, possessed of genius.”  If The Humourist had not quite managed to repair his reputation in the New World—and it is possible that it may have never been sullied on these shores to begin with—he, at least, established and maintained his reputation as a man of keen intellecual abilities.

It is clear, however, as we examine The Humourist’s essay of February 19, 1754—the focus of this week’s Controlled Revelation—that he knew all about gaining and losing a reputation.  It is clear that The Humourist knew the various types of people who “whisper away their Neighbour’s Reputation.”  It is equally clear that he held in contempt  those who eat away at and sully the reputation of others.  He held in contempt those “unsocial brutes” who undermine the influence of others.   

In one part of the essay, I suspect that he is reflecting on his younger years in the “Old World” when his own reputation was attacked by “mean and sordid” detractors, intent on “dissect[ing] characters, and devour[ing] good Names: 

There are a Kind of Detractors, tho’ last mentioned, not least in the Cause of Evil, who being mean and sordid, will condescend to collect a Catalogue of Stories, to humour a Patron and tickle a Friend.  Such Men as these, do almost come up to a literal Sense of what the Psalmist spoke in a figurative, (and eat up People for Bread;3) dissect characters, and devour good Names, for the monstrous Entertainment of a servile Master.

How shocking is it, to think, that such unwarrantable Favour should be shewn these People, who make no Allowances for Actions which frequently arise from sudden Passions, or are the unhappy Attendants of some Constitutions, or are the Errors of a hasty Judgment, and now are form’d into Crimes, and charged as the highest , when Good-Nature and good Sense must certainly have overlook’d them.

Of all The Humourist’s essays, his essay of February 19, 1754, is one of my favorites.  It contains truths which, if followed, help make us honorable and noble human beings and, of equal importance, help us to be cautious and circumspect before we speak (or write) words that harm someone’s reputation.

Of all The Humourist essays, his essay of February 19, 1754, provides the fewest clues in terms of his identity  At the same time, this week’s Controlled Revelation is itself riddled with clues aplenty!

Controlled Revelation #10: The Humourist as Author of America’s First Essay Criticizing Critics!

I have no Ambition of your Acquaintance, nor will I concern myself with the Sect, abominable Tribe!  Your Name bespeaks Contempt; more it may, less methinks! it cannot.The Humourist to the Critics (February 12, 1754)

Today we explore The Humourist’s two essays of February 12, 1754.  In the first essay, he criticizes literary critics.  In his second essay, he promises to lay any man “on his Center of Gravity” if he laughs at or jokes about his writings.

As I study these two essays, I confess that I am feeling more and more like Bradford McLaughlin, the hugger-mugger farmer in Robert Frost’s “The Star-Splitter.”  Brad had a penchant for star-gazing, and he decided to burn his house down and collect the insurance money so that he could buy himself a telescope “To satisfy a lifelong curiosity /about our place among the infinities.”  With six hundred dollars and a new job, he fulfilled his goal.  One night, he and a friend were out stargazing:

Bradford and I had out the telescope.
We spread our two legs as it spread its three,
Pointed our thoughts the way we pointed it,
And standing at our leisure till the day broke,
Said some of the best things we ever said.
That telescope was christened the Star-Splitter,
Because it didn’t do a thing but split
A star in two or three the way you split
A globule of quicksilver in your hand
With one stroke of your finger in the middle.
It’s a star-splitter if there ever was one,
And ought to do some good if splitting stars
‘Sa thing to be compared with splitting wood.

We’ve looked and looked, but after all where are we?
Do we know any better where we are,
And how it stands between the night tonight
And a man with a smoky lantern chimney?
How different from the way it ever stood?

And so it is with me this week as I examine these two Humourist essays.  I have looked and looked, but do I know anything new about his identity?  Have I been able to find any new clues?

Not many.

His first essay confirms that which we knew already:  he loves literature and the classics.  Thus, we can move on.

His second essay—a logical follow-up to the first—shows the action he will take if any critic dare criticize his work:  he will lay him “on his Center of Gravity.”  Volatile?  Perhaps so.  Look at the following passage from that essay.  It does provide some clues:

Know then, that I was born under a Planet not to die in a Lazaretto.  The hot Constellation of Cancer presided at my Nativity.  Mars was then predominant.  Of all the Elements, Fire sways most in me.  I have many Aspirings, many elevated Conceptions, owing, for the most Part, to the peculiar Quality of the ground wherein I was born, which was the Top of a Hill situated South-East, so that the House must be illustrious, being so obvious o the Sun-Beams.

Thus, we now know—assuming that The Humourist is telling the truth—that he was born under the sign of Cancer, between June 22 and July 23.  Further, we know that Mars was predominant, so he has a willingness to fight for a cause.  In this case, he is willing to fight Critics who attack his literary works.  (I wonder:  why is he so passionate about this topic?  Has he himself been the victim of critics?  Food for thought.)  So, perhaps, my looking and looking has disclosed some new information after all.

But what am I to do with “I have many Aspirings, many elevated Conceptions, owing, for the most Part, to the peculiar Quality of the ground wherein I was born, which was the Top of a Hill situated South-East, so that the House must be illustrious, being so obvious o the Sun-Beams.”  Well, I have done a lot with that information, but remember:  these are controlled revelations, and I must control how much I reveal just now.  If I say too much, I could reveal all—prematurely!

Truthfully then—and I am not teasing now—I have looked and looked at these essays, and although I know a little more about The Humourist, I don’t know a lot more about him this week than I knew before.

However, all is not lost.

What occurs to me as I examine these two essays is that The Humourist holds the distinction of having written the first Colonial American essay criticizing literary critics.  It is possible, of course, that I might be wrong in making this claim, but I don’t think so.  I have spent the better part of the last two days thinking about and exploring American writers who have criticized literary critics.  I have found no early American essays dealing exclusively with that topic So, from that perspective, The Humourist’s February 12, 1754, essays hold a unique place in American literature.

My research journey that allowed me to make this claim has been an interesting one, and I thought I would share highlights with you, especially selected quotes about critics and criticism.

It may well be that critics have always been fault-finders.  In his essay, The Humourist zeroes in on a compelling story:

When Phidias had completed the Athenian Minerva, a Critic, of much the same Discernment with these of the present Age, intimated to him, that the Waist was too thick; the silly Crowd, who always put an Implicit Faith in these malevolent Leaders, join’d in the Opinion, and the Statuary, in order to rectify the Blunder, chipp’d it to the Delicacy of their Fancy:  But when another Set of People came to see it, they insisted, that it was too slender; Phidias then threw aside his Tools, informing them, that it was impossible to chip any on again.

Other quotes from “the Antients” that show critics in a less-than-favorable light come to mind.  Marcus Tullius Cicero (106 BC –43 BC) commented, “I criticize by creation, not by finding fault.”   Aristotle (384 BC-322BC) noted that “Criticism is something we can avoid easily by saying nothing, doing nothing, and being nothing.  And Plutarch (c. 46-120AD) observed, “It is a thing of no great difficulty to raise objections against another man’s oration, it is a very easy matter; but to produce a better in its place is a work extremely troublesome.”

According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) the word “critic” came into the English language as a noun meaning “One who pronounces judgement on any thing or person; esp. one who passes severe or unfavourable judgement; a censurer, fault-finder, caviller”  in 1598.  Two instances of its usage appear in that year.  In his Worlde of Wordes, J. Florio defines critic as “Those notable Pirates in this our paper-sea, those sea-dogs, or lande-Critikes, monsters of men.”  In the same year, Shakespeare used it in his Love’s Labour’s Lost, “I that haue been loues whip…A Crietick, nay, a night-watch Constable.”

The Humourist’s British contemporaries also looked at critics with suspicion.  Below are some representative quotes:

Joseph Addison (1672-1719)

“A true critic ought to dwell upon excellencies rather than imperfections, to discover the concealed beauties of a writer, and communicate to the world such things as are worth their observation.”

“It is ridiculous for any man to criticize the works of another if he has not distinguished himself by his own performances.”

Jonathan Swift (1667-1745)

“’That was excellently observed’, say I, when I read a passage in an author, where his opinion agrees with mine. When we differ, there I pronounce him to be mistaken.”

“We of this age have discovered a shorter, and more prudent method to become scholars and wits, without the fatigue of reading or of thinking.”

Henry Fielding (1707-1754)

“Now, in reality, the world has paid too great a compliment to critics, and has imagined them to be men of much greater profundity then they really are.”

Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)

“Court not the critic’s smile nor dread his frown.”

“Criticism is a study by which men grow important and formidable at very small expense. He whom nature has made weak, and idleness keeps ignorant, may yet support his vanity by the name of a critic.”

“The duty of criticism is neither to depreciate nor dignify by partial representations, but to hold out the light of reason, whatever it may discover; and to promulgate the determinations of truth, whatever she shall dictate.”

As for writers in the American colonies, The Humourist had one or two who could keep him company when it came to criticizing critics. One predates his arrival on the scene. Anne Bradstreet (1612-1672), in her “The Author to Her Book,” pens these lines:

In this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790),  one of The Humourist’s contemporaries, commented, “Any fool can criticize, condemn and complain and most fools do.”

As I pondered what other American writers had said about critics, I could only recall several quotes. One is from Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849):  “In criticism, I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.”  Poe, of course, had such a negative reputation as a critic that he was dubbed “The Hatchet Man,” presumably after Felix Octavius Carr Darley drew a caricature of Poe that was published in Holden’s Dollar Magazine, January 3, 1849.

Hatchet ManThe caricature was accompanied by the following verse:

“With tomahawk upraised for deadly blow,
Behold our literary Mohawk, Poe!
Sworn tyrant he o‘er all who sin in verse —
His own the standard, damns he all that’s worse;
And surely not for this shall he be blamed —
For worse than his deserves that it be damned!”

Other than Poe and Franklin and Bradstreet, I could also come up with James Russell Lowell’s A Fable for Critics (1848), a book-length poem that poked fun at well-known poets and critics of the time, including Lowell himself!

Having exhausted my immediate knowledge reservoir of what America writers had to say about critics, I did some cursory research and compiled some quotations that show a prevailing attitude of scorn and disdain.

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851)

“‘Tis a strange calling!’ muttered Hawkeye, with an inward laugh, ‘to go through life, like a catbird, mocking all the ups and downs that may happen to come out of other men’s throats.'”

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

“As long as all that is said is said against me, I feel a certain sublime assurance of success, but as soon as honied words of praise are spoken for me, I feel as one that lies unprotected before his enemies.”

“Blame is safer than praise.”

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894)

“Nature, when she invented, manufactured and patented her authors, contrived to make critics out of the chips that were left.”

 Mark Twain (1835-1910)

“Tomorrow night I appear for the first time before a Boston audience – 4000 critics.”

 “The trade of critic, in literature, music, and the drama, is the most degraded of all trades.”

“I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.”

Henry Adams (1838-1918)

“These questions of taste, of feeling, of inheritance, need no settlement. Everyone carries his own inch-rule of taste, and amuses himself by applying it, triumphantly, wherever he travels.”

Henry James (1843-1916)

“When you lay down a proposition which is forthwith controverted, it is of course optional with you to take up the cudgels in its defence. If you are deeply convinced of its truth, you will perhaps be content to leave it to take care of itself; or, at all events, you will not go out of your way to push its fortunes; for you will reflect that in the long run an opinion often borrows credit from the forbearance of its patrons. In the long run, we say; it will meanwhile cost you an occasional pang to see your cherished theory turned into a football by the critics. A football is not, as such, a very respectable object, and the more numerous the players, the more ridiculous it becomes. Unless, therefore, you are very confident of your ability to rescue it from the chaos of kicks, you will best consult its interests by not mingling in the game.”

H. L. Mencken (1880-1956)

“I have often misunderstood men grossly, and I have misrepresented them when I understood them, sacrificing sense to make a phrase. Here, of course, is where even the most conscientious critic often goes aground; he is apt to be an artist before he is a scientist, and the impulse to create something passionately is stronger in him than the impulse to state something accurately.”

William Faulkner (1897-1962)

“The artist doesn’t have time to listen to the critics. The ones who want to be writers read the reviews, the ones who want to write don’t have the time to read reviews.”

Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)

“’Hem,’ he said, and I knew he was a critic now, since, in conversation, they put your name at the beginning of a sentence rather than at the end.”

John Steinbeck (1902-1968)

“In literary criticism the critic has no choice but to make over the victim of his attention into something the size and shape of himself.”

Randall Jarrell (1914-1965)

“More and more people think of the critic as an indispensable middle man between writer and reader, and would no more read a book alone, if they could help it, than have a baby alone.”

Lawrence Ferlinghetti (b. 1919)

“Don’t bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.”

Edward Albee (b. 1928)

“The difference between critics and audiences is that one is a group of humans and one is not.”

Joyce Carol Oates (b. 1938)

“Critics sometimes appear to be addressing themselves to works other than those I remember writing.”

Stephen King (b. 1947)

“I have spent a good many years since–too many, I think–being ashamed about what I write. I think I was forty before I realized that almost every writer of fiction or poetry who has ever published a line has been accused by someone of wasting his or her God-given talent. If you write (or paint or dance or sculpt or sing, I suppose), someone will try to make you feel lousy about it, that’s all.”

So, perhaps my “looking and looking” paid off after all. 

I know a lot more now than I did when it comes to what American writers have had to say about critics.  And I feel confident in my claim:  the Humourist wrote America’s first essay criticizing critics!

Controlled Revelation #9: The Humourist as Cynic

Cynic. B. n. 2.  A person disposed to rail or find fault; now usually: One who shows a disposition to disbelieve in the sincerity or goodness of human motives and actions, and is wont to express this by sneers and sarcasms; a sneering fault-finder. (As defined in The Oxford English Dictionary)

As we re-examine The Humourist’s essay of February 5, 1754, it would be tempting for me—ever so tempting— to maintain that which is obvious: The Humourist is a lover of literature, especially poetry and drama.

He uses as the headnote to his February 5, 1754, essay a quote from Samuel Garth’s The Dispensary: A Poem in Six Cantos (1699), a satire on apothecaries and physicians:

He hates Realities and hugs the Cheat,
And still the Pleasure lies in the Deceit. (Canto III, Lines 23-24)

He ends the essay with a quote from John Milton’s Paradise Lost:

For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisy, the only Evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone. (Book III, line 682)

Betwixt and between, he sprinkles dramatic references.  He begins the essay with “The World is compared to the Theatre”—no doubt an allusion to Jacque’s lines in Shakespeare:  “All the world’s a stage, / And all the men and women merely players” (As You Like It 2.7 139-40)). In the second paragraph, he observes that Flavio, has “run thro’ the several Stages with amazing Spirit and Vivacity”—again an allusion to Shakespeare’s Jacque:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. (As You Like It 2.7 139-43)

Further along in this essay he shows his interest in and knowledge of a literary genre relatively new on the British scene—the novel.  No doubt, his Miss Grave-Airs crying out, “Lord!  Mr. Sly-boots, I am all Amazement, that a Gentleman of your good natural Endowments, should devote yourself so entirely to the Art of Teasing” is an allusion to the character and sentiment of Miss Grave-Airs in Henry Fielding’s Joseph Andrews, or The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and of his Friend Mr. Abraham Adams (1742)

Sly-boots, on the other hand, is a little more difficult to nail.  As the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) notes, it is a colloquial word meaning “A sly, cunning, or crafty person; one who does things on the sly.”  The word’s early usage, however, is most interesting.  According to the OED, it first appeared in B. E.’s A New Dictionary of the Terms Ancient and Modern of the Canting Crew  (1699).  What the OED does not disclose is that this was the first English dictionary of the jargon of thieves and robbers!  (For those who are interested, this dictionary was re-issued by The Bodleian Library in 2010 under the title The First English Dictionary of Slang, 1699 with an introduction by John Simpson, chief editor of the OED. And, for those who are really interested, you might enjoy reading Angie Mlinko’s review of this re-issued version: “The Canting Crew: A New Edition of The First English Dictionary of Slang is a Saucy Survey of the Rogue Jargon of the Late Seventeenth Century.”)

And, even though I might be venturing out to the outer edge of the proverbial limb where I often like to go and where I am often found, it is possible—just possible—that the allusion to Mr. Sly-boots is to Colley Cibber’s 1701 play Love Makes a Man: or, The Fop’s Fortune, a Comedy:

Look, look!—look o’ Sly-boots! What she knows nothing of the matter! (ii. 15)

Be that as it may, one thing is clear—and I think we can agree on it:  The Humourist is a lover of literature.  So, for the moment, let us put that point aside as an established fact.  But another thing is clear as well—and I think we can agree on it, too:  I’ll continue to explore The Humourist’s literary loves as I continue to share with you more and more Controlled Revelations.

For now, however, I want to focus on what caught my attention as I explored—still one more time—The Humourist’s February 5, 1754, essay, the topic of today’s post.

What struck me smack dab in the middle of my sensibilities was how cynical The Humourist is in this essay.  In fact, the essay is so imbued with cynicism that I am surprised I let the essay’s dazzling prose so deceive me up to this point in my research.

How could I have missed the cynicism that get’s us started with this essay—the quote from Samuel Garth’s The Dispensary: A Poem in Six Cantos—a satire on apothecaries and physicians:

He hates Realities and hugs the Cheat,
And still the Pleasure lies in the Deceit. (Canto III, Lines 23-24)

How haunting:  “the Pleasure lies in the Deceit.”

How haunting—disturbingly so—that The Humourist would choose such a quote. (Writers are well aware of the important choices they make when they decide what to put in and what to leave out.)

Of all the quotes that he could have chosen, he chose:  “The Pleasure lies in the Deceit.”  And, indeed, deceit—elevated to a level of near celebration—is the topic of this entire essay which captures the mindset of a cynic at his best.

The OED gives several definitions for the noun cynic.  However, it is the second usage of the noun that best fits my take on how this essay reveals one aspect of The Humourist’s personality:

Cynic. B. n. 2.  A person disposed to rail or find fault; now usually: One who shows a disposition to disbelieve in the sincerity or goodness of human motives and actions, and is wont to express this by sneers and sarcasms; a sneering fault-finder.

Disposition to disbelieve in the sincerity or goodness of human motives and actions.

Precisely!  That is precisely what we find throughout The Humourist’s February 5, 1754, essay—from start to finish.

From this point forward—and I would hope that we can agree on this point, too—The Humourist has shown himself to be a cynic.

Let us explore the ways.

He disparages mankind:

Human Life in some Degree resembles a Masquerade, wherein consists a Medley of incoherent Characters, rudely pressing upon each other, and acting Parts unequal to their several Abilities.  I have taken the Liberty to enlarge the Comparison, and I hope that it is a legal Licence, as it comes nearer to the Purpose of this Essay, and will assist me in proving, that Mankind plays the Cheat, and that Fallacy and Disguise attend the minutest Actions of our Lives. [emphasis supplied]

He belittles the individual:

Flavio (born to make all Mankind happy but himself) is a Gentleman of Birth and Education; he has run thro’ the several Stages with amazing Spirit and Vivacity; all his Possessions now center in his Name, indeed he still enjoys a certain Gaiety, and such a Correctness of Freedom, as adds Dignity to his Deportment and an easy Negligence to his Address.

His chief Happiness has ever been to deceive himself:  In the worst Emergency of Affairs, he has never felt much Remorse at the Loss of Company, his fertile Genius always supplying him with Prospects of imaginary Happiness. [emphasis supplied]

He makes jabs at women:

Tom Easy, who is a jocose Fellow, protests, that one strong Motive for our Devotion to the softer Sex is, because they are possessed of a most incomparable Method of cheating us, and that with wonderful Dexterity. [emphasis supplied]

He condemns Patriots and those who would seek Liberty:

The Patriot, bellowing with Iron Lungs against Men in Power, hazards his Fame upon a mere Contingency, and forfeits his Reputation by deceiving himself into a Place:  As formerly he sung of Liberty, he now makes Music of his Chains. [emphasis supplied]

He undermines those who hold office and those who hold wealth:

In one Place, I can observe an impious great Man, seemingly depressed with the Weight of Office, improving, tho’ not observing, Learning or Religion. [emphasis supplied]

In another Place, a wealthy Monster sacrificing a numerous Family by Donations to Hospitals, thinking to procure a good Name, by Munificence abroad and Poverty at home. [emphasis supplied]

He erodes confidence in the munificence of the clergy:

I can observe a wealthy Pluralist, battening in the Sun-shine of Prosperity, and exulting in the Pomp of cathedral Glory, busied in Subscriptions for the Widows of poor deceased Clergymen, when his Abilities point out a quicker Remedy; deceiving at once, Mankind by the Imposition, and himself, by playing with his Conscience.

Finally he holds out no hope whatsoever—not one iota—for even one honest man, free of deceit:

By such specious Pretences, and other insidious Means, Mankind deceive each other; and if there happens to fall in the Way one honest Man, free from Deceit, free from Imposition, his want of Judgment or Discernment renders him a Victim to the multiplied Attacks of fraudulent Conspiracies. [emphasis supplied]

What does all of this suggest about The Humourist’s world view?  Wait!  Don’t answer yet!  You must consider one more example of his cynicism, and it is revealing.  As I noted earlier, he ends his essay with a quote from Milton’s Paradise Lost:

For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisy, the only Evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone. (Book III, line 682).

It is so easy to be lulled into believing those lines.  But don’t be deceived.  Hypocrisy is not invisible.  Hypocrisy is not known to God alone.  Hypocrisy is visible to other hypocrites!  Hypocrisy is known to other hypocrites.

I am reminded of the conflict that presents itself in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s famed short story, “Young Goodman Brown.”  Whenever I teach this story, students get caught up in trying to determine whether Young Goodman Brown dreamt that he lost his Faith or whether he had a real forest encounter with the Devil and thereby lost his Faith.

They lose sight of the fact that the answer does not matter.  What matters—whether the result of a dream or the result of a real encounter—is the fact that Young Goodman Brown came to see sin in the lives of all those around him:  his grandfather, Goody Cloyse, the Minister, Deacon Gookin, his wife Faith—indeed, all the Godly people of Salem.

Ironically, he could see sin in others, but he could not see the sin in his own sinful soul.  As a result, he became:

A stern, a sad, a darkly meditative, a distrustful, if not a desperate man … On the Sabbath day, when the congregation were singing a holy psalm, he could not listen because an anthem of sin rushed loudly upon his ear and drowned all the blessed strain. When the minister spoke from the pulpit with power and fervid eloquence, and, with his hand on the open Bible, of the sacred truths of our religion, and of saint-like lives and triumphant deaths, and of future bliss or misery unutterable, then did Goodman Brown turn pale, dreading lest the roof should thunder down upon the gray blasphemer and his hearers. Often, waking suddenly at midnight, he shrank from the bosom of Faith; and at morning or eventide, when the family knelt down at prayer, he scowled and muttered to himself, and gazed sternly at his wife, and turned away. And when he had lived long, and was borne to his grave a hoary corpse, followed by Faith, an aged woman, and children and grandchildren, a goodly procession, besides neighbors not a few, they carved no hopeful verse upon his tombstone, for his dying hour was gloom.

Young Goodman Brown met his gloom because of his own spiritual smugness.  His was a holier-than-thou life wherein all around him—save for him—were sinners.

Isn’t that the case with cynics?  Smugness, spiritual and otherwise?  Isn’t that the case with cynics?  A holier-than-thou life?  Might not that have been the case with The Humourist?  We shall see, eventually.  For now, we can see this much clearly:  The Humourist is masterful at being a cynic.