BROWSINGS BY THE EDITOR IN HIS OWN LIBRARY Sprague's Journal of Maine History No. I Vol. VII MAY JUNE JULY 1919 pages 49-54 BROWSINGS BY THE EDITOR IN HIS OWN LIBRARY IV. On our shelves are two Maine books. which, though nearly a century old and not classics are of interest; from their pages we obtain glimpses of Maine when it was young and ambitious, just entering upon its career as a sovereign state; and peeps at the habits, customs and sentiments of our ancestors when they were bearing the burdens of pioneers and first settlers. When these book, were written American literature as we regard it today was in its formative period. Its real foundations were laid by the Mathers, John Cotton, Sir Henry Vane, Jonathan Edwards and their compeers. For despite their illogical theology, fanatical piety and cruel intolerance, those "stern men with empires in their brains" were the beginners of whatever system of literature the world now recognizes as the fruition of purely American ideals. It had its birth at a time when the Puritans sent missionaries to convert the Church of England crowd in Virginia, but who were so persecuted by the followers of the Stuarts that they finally took refuge in the Catholic Colony of Maryland, where absolute religious tolerance prevailed. That movement in the history of the American mind which vitalized our literature and gave it coherence which Ralph Waldo Emerson was the prophet, and Concord its Mecca, was then (1830-5) only in the building process, but it soon after burst forth, and made its amazing impress upon civilization. Channing to be sure had attained to the age of fifty years, and seven years before his "Evidence of Revealed Religion," and "Essay on National Literature" had been published, but it was later, that the world bowed its acknowledgment to him. England was then just beginning to discover Washington Irving, who has ever since strangely held a larger, circle of admirers there than at home. Emerson was attempting to be a Unitarian minister in the very church in Boston here Cotton Mather, a century and a half before had preached, and who, could be have foreseen the event, would undoubtedly have pronounced a curse upon him and all the transcendental breed. The future brilliancy of Emerson, Alcott, Margaret Fuller, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Lowell, Whittier, and Holmes was not then. even. a dream on either side of the Atlantic. It was four years before Horace Greely had graduated from a two or three years course as a "tramp printer" and broken into New York city with a capital of ten dollars in his pocket. Up to this time the art of literature had made but little progress in Maine. One of her honored sons, James Sullivan, had written the first history of its colonial period, and William D. Williamson had a few years before completed his Invaluable history of Maine. But this can be said to the credit and honor of the men in that day: there was a larger per cent of them who are deeply interested in. the history of their state, manifested greater pride in, it than has been the case of any succeeding generation. Maine has been a state less than two years when the Maine Historical Society came into being with William King, who had been the first governor of Maine for its first president. Its first roll membership included names of men who were controlling factors in the business, political, religious and educational affairs of the new state; congressmen, senator,, governors and judges of the supreme court; men who were then and ever will be recognized builders of a great commonwealth, a part of the greatest government on earth, were members --not merely ornamental and passive but active and earnest in its work, The pages of the first series of the Collections of this Society are interspersed with papers of vast historical worth and which are gems as literary productions written by men busy with political problems of the state and a new nation. It is easy to say "there were giants in those days" and possibly the maturity of years prompts the saying. There may be giants in our generation. Light is glimmering--if not in the east at least in the part of Maine for, down on the banks of the beautiful Androscoggin, at Lewiston Falls, one, Arthur Staples presides over a literary aggregation whose work is calculated to cheer those who rejoice in all things that stimulate intellectual activity in Maine along literary and historical lines. Mr. Staples has just produced a delightful volume entitled "Just Talks on Common Themes." We had previously read these "talks" in the Lewiston Journal, but again perused them with much pleasure. The words "common themes" may be properly applied to it and yet it is full of uncommon things -- philosophy, logic, humor, great thoughts -- stories which are pictures of the lights and shadow of human life, its foibles, its strength and greatness, its sorrows and it joys portrayed by the hand of an artist who vision has had a glimpse of the soul of men and of things. But this is a rambling digression from an intended mention of two oldish books. One is "New England And Her Institutions By One of Her Sons." It is well known that the author was Jacob Abbot. It was published by R. B. Seeley and W. Burnside, Fleet Street, London, in 1835. Reverend Jacob Abbot, D. D., was born in Hallowell, Me., Nov. 14th 1803. He was a graduate of Bowdoin and for a time was a professor at Amherst. In 1839, he became a permanent resident of Farmington, Maine. His death occurred Oct. 3, 1879. He was an author of note, a prolific writer of juvenile books as well as some works on American and English history and biography. In all he wrote more than 200 volumes. This book evidently was written mainly for the purpose of giving English readers a view of country life in New England. It vividly describes scenes, places and customs in a newly settled country which must have been exceedingly entertaining to people in the old world. Much of it relates to observations made while traveling by carriage along the highways, and one can readily recognize trips that he made in the state of Maine: At the intervals of a few miles, the log house of some enterprising settler would attract the eye, as we rode along, feasting upon the novelty of the scenes before us, till we came suddenly to the borders of a beautiful pond; which was literally encircled with mountains, form whose distant and rocky summit we looked down upon the beautiful valley. *********** No one will expect to find in regions so distant, and in society so new, the artificial courtesies and ceremonies which regulate intercourse in fashionable circles. In the dwelling of the farmer you will generally find plain, frank, manly sense, with good degree of intelligence respecting the general state of the world, and the political conditions of his own country. The topics treated upon in the book are the farmer; ecclesiastical organizations; the church and religious revivals, slavery, holidays college life, district schools, etc. In his chapter on holidays he name only three, Thanksgiving, Independence Day and Fast Day, making no mention whatever of Christmas, showing that, even as late as 1835, the Puritan's ancient dislike of that holiday still survived in New England. The other book is "The Budget; or Attempts at Immortality, by Messrs. Von Dunderhead." It was published in Hallowell, Maine by Glazier, Master & Co. in 1830. The author of this book is unknown. Maine book lovers have never been able to solve the mystery. Joseph Williamson's Bibliography of Maine says that "the name of the author was inquired for in the Hist. Mag. 1862, but elicited no reply." It is a book of tales and sketches, and like Dr. Abbot's book is valuable for its side-lights on human life, its endeavors and its activities in the primitive day of our state. It contains " A Legend of the Kennebec," which is a story of the settlers around Merrymeeting Bay, during the war of 1812, "Living Yankees,"etc. Among is imageries is a tale of Bowdoin College in 1828. Possibly some one may fancy comparing college boys pranks of the nineteenth, with similar doings of the twentieth century. Old Bowdoin's Halls have rung many a time and oft with the frolicksome shouts of a crew of lads who arrogated to themselves the proud title of "Old Dominion". Many a mad prank, and many a disturbance that has called forth the frowns of government, had its origin in their secret council chamber. Many a goose, whose mysterious abduction has astonished it owner, has yielded up it last breath in this breath in this haunt of frolic and roguery. Many an orchard, has deposited it fruit, and many a garden its vegetables within the walls of "number twenty-nine" In darkness of impenetrable mystery rested upon the doings of this dreaded club. Its existence was only known by the hieroglyphic notice on the college doorposts, -- appearing, none knew how, and vanishing, none knew when, and by the consequence of every meeting. Noises, -- the sound of shouts and yells, -- the heavy tramping of feet, and ever and anon, the outbreaking of some discordant chorus, often roused in peaceful student from his midnight slumbers; and if perchance some one, more bold than the rest, should determine to have a peep at the noisy gang who were serenading him so sweetly, the opening of his door would be the signal for silence, and his curiosity would be unsatisfied, unless it was satisfaction to see a multitude of spectre-like figures in the likeness of nothing gin Heaven above, nor in the earth beneath, gliding away with gliding away with noiseless footsteps into the impenetrable darkness. Darkness was their element, the light of the moon they abominated, and the nights of their meetings ere always dark and cloudy. Government had often endeavored to find a clew to unravel this mystery, but their penetration was here at fault. At length they gave over the attempt, comforting themselves with the idea, that is was only the effect of a natural effervescence of youth, and that this club might, like a safety valve, served to let off spirit, which, if confined, might cause a more serious explosion. The club was composed entirely and exclusively of seniors, and but a small part of them were judged worthy or willing to become the depositories of its important secrets. The last meeting of the year had arrived, and new set of those who were thought most meet to take the place of the departing members, were to be initiated into the deep and solemn mysteries of "The Old Dominion". For sometime previous, no disturbances had arisen from their meetings, and the irritated students began to hope that the troublesome society had breathed its last, and that at length they might be permitted to lie down without he fear of a midnight disturbance before their eyes. But they were doomed to hear the sonorous voices of the seniors of '28 mingling in their usual melodious howl. At midnight, when every light was extinguished, and the sound of the snorers was heard, the signal for the commencement of the usual ceremonies attendant upon an initiation into this August body, -- then followed, at measured intervals, the sound of heavy feet falling upon the floor. Those to be initiated were ushered into a room from whence issued heavy clouds of tobacco smoke, and which was only lighted up by the dim and flickering effulgence of a faint blue flame which issued, as it were, from the centre of the floor. Around that dim light set a circle of fiendish looking creatures, on every face of whom was a mask, and in every mouth a cigar. Every one rose at the entrance of the members elect, and one more hideous that the rest, ho bore the high and mighty office of Ruler in that synagogue of devils, stepped forth, and in a voice which seemed rising from the very recess of his beautiful body, addressed them thus, -- We he ancient and honorable Dominion, which existed long before the commencement of time, and who, in the profundity of our kindness, have come to dwell in this highly honored institution, understand that you, poor miserable worms, are desirous also to come and sit among the clouds as we in our great happiness do. We have therefore deigned to listen to your wishes and to enroll you among our numbers. Listen, then, poor worms, to the obligation you are to receive. Take the oath and break it not. You promise that you will never reveal the secrets of this, the Old Dominion, and you will neither spare lungs or lying, in forwarding it interests, and that from time to time, henceforth, and forever, you will declared war, extermination war, against Government and Geese, -- President and Pigs, --Tutors and Turkeys. This is not all of it, but this with the following "college song," may suffice to give the reader glimpse of college enterprises in Brunswick village, eighty-one years ago. Bring the jugs out, Pull the plugs out, Do not spill the cre'tur, Doff your nightcap, Drink your blackstap; None can ask for better. ********** (c) 1998 Courtesy of the Androscoggin Historical Society ************************************************* * * * * NOTICE: Printing the files within by non-commercial individuals and libraries is encouraged, as long as all notices and submitter information is included. 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