Scarlet Letter

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)

THE SCARLET LETTER opens with a long preamble about how the book came to be written. The nameless narrator was the surveyor of the customhouse in Salem, Massachusetts. In the customhouse’s attic, he discovered a number of documents, among them a manuscript that was bundled with a scarlet, gold-embroidered patch of cloth in the shape of an “A.” The manuscript, the work of a past surveyor, detailed events that occurred some two hundred years before the narrator’s time. When the narrator lost his customs post, he decided to write a fictional account of the events recorded in the manuscript. The Scarlet Letter is the final product.

The story begins in seventeenth-century Boston, then a Puritan settlement. A young woman, Hester Prynne, is led from the town prison with her infant daughter, Pearl, in her arms and the scarlet letter “A” on her breast. A man in the crowd tells an elderly onlooker that Hester is being punished for adultery. Hester’s husband, a scholar much older than she is, sent her ahead to America, but he never arrived in Boston. The consensus is that he has been lost at sea. While waiting for her husband, Hester has apparently had an affair, as she has given birth to a child. She will not reveal her lover’s identity, however, and the scarlet letter, along with her public shaming, is her punishment for her sin and her secrecy. On this day Hester is led to the town scaffold and harangued by the town fathers, but she again refuses to identify her child’s father.
The elderly onlooker is Hester’s missing husband, who is now practicing medicine and calling himself Roger Chillingworth. He settles in Boston, intent on revenge. He reveals his true identity to no one but Hester, whom he has sworn to secrecy. Several years pass. Hester supports herself by working as a seamstress, and Pearl grows into a willful, impish child. Shunned by the community, they live in a small cottage on the outskirts of Boston. Community officials attempt to take Pearl away from Hester, but, with the help of Arthur Dimmesdale, a young and eloquent minister, the mother and daughter manage to stay together. Dimmesdale, however, appears to be wasting away and suffers from mysterious heart trouble, seemingly caused by psychological distress. Chillingworth attaches himself to the ailing minister and eventually moves in with him so that he can provide his patient with round-the-clock care. Chillingworth also suspects that there may be a connection between the minister’s torments and Hester’s secret, and he begins to test Dimmesdale to see what he can learn. One afternoon, while the minister sleeps, Chillingworth discovers a mark on the man’s breast (the details of which are kept from the reader), which convinces him that his suspicions are correct.
Dimmesdale’s psychological anguish deepens, and he invents new tortures for himself. In the meantime, Hester’s charitable deeds and quiet humility have earned her a reprieve from the scorn of the community. One night, when Pearl is about seven years old, she and her mother are returning home from a visit to a deathbed when they encounter Dimmesdale atop the town scaffold, trying to punish himself for his sins. Hester and Pearl join him, and the three link hands. Dimmesdale refuses Pearl’s request that he acknowledge her publicly the next day, and a meteor marks a dull red “A” in the night sky. Hester can see that the minister’s condition is worsening, and she resolves to intervene. She goes to Chillingworth and asks him to stop adding to Dimmesdale’s self-torment. Chillingworth refuses.
Hester arranges an encounter with Dimmesdale in the forest because she is aware that Chillingworth has probably guessed that she plans to reveal his identity to Dimmesdale. The former lovers decide to flee to Europe, where they can live with Pearl as a family. They will take a ship sailing from Boston in four days. Both feel a sense of release, and Hester removes her scarlet letter and lets down her hair. Pearl, playing nearby, does not recognize her mother without the letter. The day before the ship is to sail, the townspeople gather for a holiday and Dimmesdale preaches his most eloquent sermon ever. Meanwhile, Hester has learned that Chillingworth knows of their plan and has booked passage on the same ship. Dimmesdale, leaving the church after his sermon, sees Hester and Pearl standing before the town scaffold. He impulsively mounts the scaffold with his lover and his daughter, and confesses publicly, exposing a scarlet letter seared into the flesh of his chest. He falls dead, as Pearl kisses him.
Frustrated in his revenge, Chillingworth dies a year later. Hester and Pearl leave Boston, and no one knows what has happened to them. Many years later, Hester returns alone, still wearing the scarlet letter, to live in her old cottage and resume her charitable work. She receives occasional letters from Pearl, who has married a European aristocrat and established a family of her own. When Hester dies, she is buried next to Dimmesdale. The two share a single tombstone, which bears a scarlet “A.”

TEXT/MOVIE CHECK

1. _________________ is the book’s protagonist and the wearer of the scarlet letter that gives the book its title.
A. Hester Prynne B. Pearl
2. The letter, a patch of fabric in the shape of an “A,” signifies that Hester is “_____________”.
A. adulterer B. abhorred
3. _______________ is a young man who achieved fame in England as a theologian and then emigrated to America. In a moment of weakness, he and Hester became lovers.
A. Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale B. Reverend John Wilson
4. Community officials attempt to take Pearl away from Hester, but, with the help of ____________, a young and eloquent minister, the mother and daughter manage to stay together.
A. Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale B. Reverend John Wilson
5. When Hester dies, she is buried next to Dimmesdale. The two share a single tombstone, which bears a scarlet “A.”
A. True B. False

The Cask of Amontillado

Edgar Allan Poe

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled - but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.
He had a weak point - this Fortunato - although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; - I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.
It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought I should never have done wringing his hand.
I said to him - 'My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking today. But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my doubts.'
'How?' said he. 'Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!'
'I have my doubts,' I replied; 'and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain.'
'Amontillado!'
'I have my doubts.'
'Amontillado!'
'And I must satisfy them.'
'Amontillado!'
'As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical turn it is he. He will tell me -'
'Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.'
'And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.'
'Come, let us go.'
'Whither?'
'To your vaults.'
'My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchresi -'
'I have no engagement; - come.'
'My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre.'
'Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado.'
Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in hour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicitly orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.
I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.
The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.
'The pipe,' he said.
'It is farther on,' said I; 'but observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern walls.'
He turned towards me, and looked onto my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication.
'Nitre?' he asked, at length.
'Nitre,' I replied. 'How long have you had that cough?'
'Ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh! - ugh! ugh! ugh!'
'My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.
'It is nothing,' he said, at last.
'Come,' I said, with decision, 'we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchresi -'
'Enough,' he said; 'the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a cough.'
'True - true,' I replied; 'and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily - but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the damps.'
Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.
'Drink,' I said, presenting him the wine.
'He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.
'I drink,' he said, 'to the buried that repose around us.'
'And I to your long life'
He again took my arm, and we proceeded.
'These vaults,' he said, 'are extensive.'
'The Montresors,' I replied, 'were a great and numerous family.'
'I forget your arms.'
'A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel.'
'And the motto?'
'Nemo me impune lacessit.'
'Good!' he said.
'The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.
'The nitre!' I said; 'see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough -'
'It is nothing,' he said; 'let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc.'
I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand.
I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement - a grotesque one.
'You do not comprehend?' he said.
'Not I,' I replied.
'Then you are not of the brotherhood.'
'How?'
'You are not of the masons.'
'Yes, yes,' I said; 'yes, yes.'
'You? Impossible! A mason?'
'A mason,' I replied.
'A sign,' he said, 'a sign'
'It is this,' I answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire a trowel.
'You jest,' he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. 'But let us proceed to the Amontillado.'
'Be it so,' I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame.
At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite.
It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his full torch, endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.
'Proceed,' I said; 'herin is the Amontillado. As for Luchresi -'
'He is an ignoramus,' interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess.
'Pass your hand,' I said, 'over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I must first render you all the little attentions in my power.'
'The Amontillado!' ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
'True,' I replied; 'the Amontillado.'
As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche.
I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The nose lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt satisfied. I re-approached the wall; I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew still.
It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I paced it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognising as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said -
'Ha! ha! ha! - he! he! he! - a very good joke, indeed - and excellent jest. We will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo - he! he! he! - over our wine - he! he! he!'
'The Amontillado!' I said.
'He! he! he! - he! he! he! - yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone.'
'Yes,' I said, 'let us be gone.'
'For the love of God, Montresor!'
But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew inpatient. I called aloud -
'Fortunato!'
No answer. I called again -
'Fortunato!'
No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. Of the half of a century no mortal had disturbed them. In pace requiescat!



Other Activities:

• Watch the film “The Raven”, taken from the poem “The Raven” and story inpired by Edgar Allan Poe
• See flashed picture of the story “The Tale-Tell Heart”

Representative Writers: LITERATURE OF THE EARLY REPUBLIC

In the early years of the 19th century several full-fledged American writers developed. The most notable among them were Bryant, Cooper, and Irving. These writers were recognized even in England. In different ways each of them tried to make his works American. Bird, Robert M. (1806-54), novelist and playwright--'Nick of the Woods'; 'The Gladiator'. Brackenridge, Hugh Henry (1748-1816), novelist--'Modern Chivalry'. Bryant, William Cullen (1794-1878), poet--'Thanatopsis'; 'To a Waterfowl'; 'A Forest Hymn'. Cooper, James Fenimore (1789-1851), novelist--'The Pilot'; 'The Last of the Mohicans'; 'The Spy'; 'The Deerslayer'; 'The Pathfinder'; 'The Pioneers'. Irving, Washington (1783-1859), essayist and short-story writer--'A History of New York, by Diedrich Knickerbocker'; 'The Alhambra'; 'The Sketch Book'. Kennedy, John Pendleton (1795-1870), novelist--'Swallow Barn'; 'Horse-Shoe Robinson'. Simms, William Gilmore (1806-70), novelist and poet--'The Yemassee'; 'Atalantis'. Thompson, Daniel Pierce (1795-1868), novelist--'The Green Mountain Boys'; 'The Rangers'.


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The Flowering of American Literature

The middle of the 19th century saw the beginning of a truly independent American literature. This period, especially the years 1850-55, has been called the American Renaissance.
More masterpieces were written at this time than in any other equal span of years in American history. New England was the center of intellectual activity in these years, and Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) was the most prominent writer.

Emerson and Thoreau

Emerson began his career as a clergyman. He came to feel, however, that he could better do his work outside the church. Thus he became an independent essayist and lecturer, a lay preacher to Americans. He preached one message--that the individual human being, because he is God's creature, has a spark of divinity in him which gives him great power. "Trust thyself," Emerson said in his essay 'Self-Reliance' (1841). He believed it made no difference what one's work is or where one lives. Emerson himself lived in the village of Concord. There, as oracle and as prophet, he wrote the stirring prose that inspired an entire nation.
One person who took Emerson's teaching to heart and lived by it was his Concord neighbor Henry David Thoreau (1817-62). Thoreau lived a life of independence. He was a student of wildlife and the great outdoors. He was also a student of literature, who himself wrote fresh, vigorous prose. His masterpiece is 'Walden, or Life in the Woods' (1854), an account of his two-year sojourn at Walden Pond. "I went to the woods," he wrote, "because I wished to live deliberately"--that is, to decide what is important in life and then to pursue it.
The simplicity of Thoreau's life makes a strong appeal to modern readers. They are impressed too by his essay 'Civil Disobedience' (1849), which converted Emersonian self-reliance into a workable formula for opposing the power of government. He advocated passive resistance, including, if necessary, going to jail, as he himself did. Mahatma Gandhi, who was jailed so many times in his fight to free India from British rule, was strongly influenced by the ideas contained in this essay of Thoreau's.

Popular New England Poets

More conventional and less challenging than the Concord writers were the popular poets of New England. Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-94) won early renown with 'Old Ironsides' (1830), which told the story of the Constitution in such stirring words that people rallied and saved it from destruction.
His 'Last Leaf' (1833) and 'Chambered Nautilus' (1858) were also favorites. Holmes took time from his medical practice to write 'The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table' (1858), which first appeared in the newly founded Atlantic Monthly. The autocrat is a thin disguise for Holmes himself. Holmes was a witty conversationalist; and through his mouthpiece, the autocrat, he gave lively expression to a variety of opinions
The poems of James Russell Lowell (1819-91) were admired in his day. This wellborn Bostonian was versatile. He was editor of the Atlantic Monthly, a professor at Harvard, United States minister to Spain and then to England, a literary critic, and a poet.
Lowell's 'Vision of Sir Launfal' (1848) has long been popular. Fresher and more native is his 'Biglow Papers' (1848-67), rhymed verse in Yankee dialect used for humor and satire directed against the advocates of slavery. Hosea Biglow, the pretended author, is blessed with common sense and a strong New England conscience. By capturing the thought and speech of the American rustic, Lowell showed one way in which American literature could be truly national.
The favorite American poet in the 19th century was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-82). He was a storyteller in verse. 'The Courtship of Miles Standish' (1858), 'Evangeline' (1847), and 'The Song of Hiawatha' (1855) use native incident and character. Longfellow was trying to give the United States legends like those of Europe. His lyrics too were admired. 'A Psalm of Life' (1839) was memorized by generations of schoolchildren.
Nearly as popular as Longfellow was John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-92), author of such well-known ballads as 'Barbara Frietchie' (1863). Whittier was a Quaker and thus a foe of slavery, which he attacked in both verse and prose.
After the Civil War he wrote 'Snow-Bound' (1866). This homely poem, based on the poet's childhood experiences, pictures farm life in an earlier day. It must have reminded many readers of their own rural childhoods.

Poe and Hawthorne

The major writer in the South during these years was Edgar Allan Poe (1809-49). Instead of American characters, themes, and settings, Poe wrote of timeless places and people. He did brilliant work in three areas: poetry, short fiction, and criticism. Poems such as 'The Raven' (1845), 'The Bells' (1849), and 'Ulalume' (1847) are vague in thought but hauntingly beautiful in sound.
Poe's short stories are of two kinds: (1) tales of detection, such as 'Murders in the Rue Morgue' (1841) and 'The Purloined Letter' (1845) (Poe's Dupin being the forerunner of Sherlock Holmes and other later fictional detectives); and (2) psychological tales of terror, such as 'The Fall of the House of Usher' (1839) and 'The Masque of the Red Death' (1842). Both types of stories observe the principles he outlined in his critical writing--that a story should be short, that it should aim at a definite effect, and that all its parts should contribute to the effect, thus making for unity. Modern short-story writers owe much to Poe's critical ideas.
Although Poe disliked most New England writing because it was too obviously moral in intention, he greatly admired the stories of Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-64). The son of a sea captain from Salem, Mass., Hawthorne grew up in that old port city rich in legends of the past. He steeped himself in the history of Puritan times and laid many of his stories in that period. The earlier settings made his tales shadowy and, because the Puritans were conscious of sin, gave the author a chance to explore the sinful human heart in his fiction. He did so in the stories 'Young Goodman Brown' (1835) and 'The Minister's Black Veil' (1837), as well as in his full-length masterpiece, 'The Scarlet Letter' (1850).
His fiction, seemingly simple, is rich and subtle. It is also often profound in its treatment of life's darker side, the side which the Puritans had freely acknowledged but which Hawthorne's contemporaries often chose to ignore.

The Last of the Mohicans

James Fenimore Cooper

IIT IS THE LATE 1750S, and the French and Indian War grips the wild forest frontier of western New York. The French army is attacking Fort William Henry, a British outpost commanded by Colonel Munro. Munro’s daughters Alice and Cora set out from Fort Edward to visit their father, escorted through the dangerous forest by Major Duncan Heyward and guided by an Indian named Magua. Soon they are joined by David Gamut, a singing master and religious follower of Calvinism. Traveling cautiously, the group encounters the white scout Natty Bumppo, who goes by the name Hawkeye, and his two Indian companions, Chingachgook and Uncas, Chingachgook’s son, the only surviving members of the once great Mohican tribe. Hawkeye says that Magua, a Huron, has betrayed the group by leading them in the wrong direction. The Mohicans attempt to capture the traitorous Huron, but he escapes.

Hawkeye and the Mohicans lead the group to safety in a cave near a waterfall, but Huron allies of Magua attack early the next morning. Hawkeye and the Mohicans escape down the river, but Hurons capture Alice, Cora, Heyward, and Gamut. Magua celebrates the kidnapping. When Heyward tries to convert Magua to the English side, the Huron reveals that he seeks revenge on Munro for past humiliation and proposes to free Alice if Cora will marry him. Cora has romantic feelings for Uncas, however, and angrily refuses Magua. Suddenly Hawkeye and the Mohicans burst onto the scene, rescuing the captives and killing every Huron but Magua, who escapes. After a harrowing journey impeded by Indian attacks, the group reaches Fort William Henry, the English stronghold. They sneak through the French army besieging the fort, and, once inside, Cora and Alice reunite with their father.
A few days later, the English forces call for a truce. Munro learns that he will receive no reinforcements for the fort and will have to surrender. He reveals to Heyward that Cora’s mother was part “Negro,” which explains her dark complexion and raven hair. Munro accuses Heyward of racism because he prefers to marry blonde Alice over dark Cora, but Heyward denies the charge. During the withdrawal of the English troops from Fort William Henry, the Indian allies of the French indulge their bloodlust and prey upon the vulnerable retreating soldiers. In the chaos of slaughter, Magua manages to recapture Cora, Alice, and Gamut and to escape with them into the forest.
Three days later, Heyward, Hawkeye, Munro, and the Mohicans discover Magua’s trail and begin to pursue the villain. Gamut reappears and explains that Magua has separated his captives, confining Alice to a Huron camp and sending Cora to a Delaware camp. Using deception and a variety of disguises, the group manages to rescue Alice from the Hurons, at which point Heyward confesses his romantic interest in her. At the Delaware village, Magua convinces the tribe that Hawkeye and his companions are their racist enemies. Uncas reveals his exalted heritage to the Delaware sage Tamenund and then demands the release of all his friends but Cora, who he admits belongs to Magua. Magua departs with Cora. A chase and a battle ensue. Magua and his Hurons suffer painful defeat, but a rogue Huron kills Cora. Uncas begins to attack the Huron who killed Cora, but Magua stabs Uncas in the back. Magua tries to leap across a great divide, but he falls short and must cling to a shrub to avoid tumbling off and dying. Hawkeye shoots him, and Magua at last plummets to his death.
Cora and Uncas receive proper burials the next morning amid ritual chants performed by the Delawares. Chingachgook mourns the loss of his son, while Tamenund sorrowfully declares that he has lived to see the last warrior of the noble race of the Mohicans.

Character List

Hawkeye - The novel’s frontier hero, he is a woodsman, hunter, and scout. Hawkeye is the hero’s adopted name; his real name is Natty Bumppo. A famous marksman, Hawkeye carries a rifle named Killdeer and has earned the frontier nickname La Longue Carabine, or The Long Rifle. Hawkeye moves more comfortably in the forest than in civilization. His closest bonds are with Indians, particularly Chingachgook and Uncas, but he frequently asserts that he has no Indian blood. As a cultural hybrid—a character who mixes elements of different cultures—Hawkeye provides a link between Indians and whites.

Magua - The novel’s villain, he is a cunning Huron nicknamed Le Renard Subtil, or the Subtle Fox. Once a chief among his people, Magua was driven from his tribe for drunkenness. Because the English Colonel Munro enforced this humiliating punishment, Magua possesses a burning desire for retaliation against him.

Major Duncan Heyward - A young American colonist from the South who has risen to the rank of major in the English army. Courageous, well-meaning, and noble, Heyward often finds himself out of place in the forest, thwarted by his lack of knowledge about the frontier and Indian relations. Heyward’s unfamiliarity with the land sometimes creates problems for Hawkeye, the dexterous woodsman and leader.

Uncas - Chingachgook’s son, he is the youngest and last member of the Indian tribe known as the Mohicans. A noble, proud, self-possessed young man, Uncas falls in love with Cora Munro and suffers tragic consequences for desiring a forbidden interracial coupling. Noble Uncas thwarts the evil Magua’s desire to marry Cora. Uncas also functions as Hawkeye’s surrogate son, learning about leadership from Hawkeye.

Chingachgook - Uncas’s father, he is one of the two surviving members of the Mohican tribe. An old friend of Hawkeye, Chingachgook is also known as Le Gros Serpent—The Great Snake—because of his crafty intelligence.
David Gamut - A young Calvinist attempting to carry Christianity to the frontier through the power of his song. Ridiculously out of place in the wilderness, Gamut is the subject of Hawkeye’s frequent mockery. Gamut matures into Hawkeye’s helpful ally, frequently supplying him with important information.

Cora Munro - Colonel Munro’s eldest daughter, a solemn girl with a noble bearing. Cora’s dark complexion derives from her mother’s “Negro” background. Cora attracts the love of the Mohican warrior Uncas and seems to return his feelings cautiously. She suffers the tragic fate of the sentimental heroine.

Alice Munro - Colonel Munro’s younger daughter by his Scottish second wife, and Cora’s half-sister. Girlish and young, she tends to faint at stressful moments. Alice and Heyward love each other. Alice’s blonde hair, fair skin, and weakness make her a conventional counterpart to the racially mixed and fiery Cora.
Colonel Munro - The commander of the British forces at Fort William Henry and father of Cora and Alice. As a young man, Munro traveled to the West Indies, where he married a woman of “Negro” descent, Cora’s mother. When Munro’s first wife died, he returned to Scotland and married his childhood sweetheart, who later gave birth to Alice. Although Munro is a massive, powerful man, circumstances in the war eventually leave him withdrawn and ineffectual.
General Montcalm - Marquis Louis Joseph de Saint-Veran, known as Montcalm, is the commander of the French forces fighting against England during the French and Indian War. He enlists the aid and knowledge of Indian tribes to help his French forces navigate the unfamiliar forest combat setting. After capturing Fort William Henry, though, he is powerless to prevent the Indian massacre of the English troops.
Tamenund - An ancient, wise, and revered Delaware Indian sage who has outlived three generations of warriors.
General Webb - The commander of the British forces at Fort Edward.

TEXT/MOVIE CHECK


1. __________is the novel’s frontier hero, he is a woodsman, hunter, and scout. It is the hero’s adopted name; his real name is Natty Bumppo.
A. Magua B. Hawkeye
2. _________is the novel’s villain; he is a cunning Huron nicknamed Le Renard Subtil, or the Subtle Fox. Once a chief among his people, he was driven from his tribe for drunkenness.
A. Magua B. Tamenund
3. Hawkeye carries a rifle named _____________ and has earned the frontier nickname La Longue Carabine, or The Long Rifle.
A. Killdeer B. Deerslayer
4. When Hawkeye asked Jack “What brings you up here?”, Jack informed Hawkeyed and the rest that French and Indian army were out of Fort Carillon's and were heading south to war against the English. He further said that he’s here to raise the county's militia to aid the___________.
A. French defense B. British defense
5. When the lieutenant said that it should be enough to remind the natives that France is their enemy, _________ said “ France is your enemy, not ours.”
A. Uncas B. Hawkeye
6. _______________ was asked by Cora if he has still aversion to the water.
A, Hawkeyed B. Heyward
7. Who said this line: “Though they are strangers, they are at least entitled to a Christian burial!”
A. Alice B. Cora
8. Hawkeye, having asked why they did not bury the people, replied that______________.
A. it is not a Mohican culture to give enemies a decent burial
B. anyone looking to pick up their trail would see it as a sign of passing
9. Complete the lines of Hawkeye: "do not try to understand them. That is because they are a breed apart and________________”
A. they make no sense b. the are senseless
10. With Hawkeye statement that Mohicans (as well as Americans) and British were breed apart, etc. etc., Cora sarcastically repeated the statement and Hawkeye said_____________.
A. in her particular case he would make an allowance
B. they were trained to treat strangers that way
11. Cora asked Hawkeye how he learned English and Hawkeye said he and Uncas were sent by their father to Reverend Wheelock’s school at the age of __________.
A. ten B. fifteen
12. Munro told Heyward that he sent three men and letters to Webb but there was no letter given. Only one arrived and it was ________.
A. Uncas B. Magua
13. Magua, a Huron, reveals that he seeks revenge on Munro for past humiliation and proposes to free Alice if Cora will marry him.
A. True B. False
14. Magua has separated his captives, confining Alice to a Delaware camp and sending Cora to a Huron camp.
A. True B. False
15. Cora explained to Munro, her father, that Hawkeye saved their lives but Munro said Hawkeye is guilty of _________and must be hanged like criminals.
A. sedition B. subversion
16. The letter to Colonel Munro read by Bougainville sates that Webb has no men to send him for his rescue and is advised to ____________.
A. fight B. surrender
17. Complete the line of Magua: “Magua slept hard in the English wigwams. And the sticks left their mark ... Magua's village and lodges were burnt. Magua's children____________. Magua was taken as a slave by the Mohawks who fought for the Grey Hair.”
A. were raised by the French B. were killed by the English
18. A chase and a battle ensue. Magua and his Hurons suffer painful defeat, but a rogue Huron kills Cora.
A. True B. False
19. He portrayed the role of Hawkeye.
A. Daniel Day Lewis B. Gary ldman
20. One of the screenplay writers of “The Last of the Mohicans.
A. Christopher Crowe B. James Fenimore Cooper

Representative Writers: COLONIAL TIMES IN AMERICA

Between the founding of Jamestown (1607) and the signing of the Declaration of Independence (1776), scattered English settlements grew into a group of colonies ready to declare themselves a nation. The colonists changed from thinking and acting as Englishmen to full awareness of themselves as Americans.

During this time almost all writing was devoted to spiritual concerns and to practical matters of politics and promotion of settlements. In New England, fiction was considered sinful and little poetry was written. A few interesting personal journals and diaries survive.

Bradford, William (1590-1657), historian--'History of Plimoth Plantation'. Bradstreet, Anne (1612?-72), poet--'The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up in America'; 'Contemplations'. Byrd, William (1674-1744), historian and diarist--'History of the Dividing Line'; 'Secret Diary'. Edwards, Jonathan (1703-58), theologian--'Personal Narrative'; 'The Freedom of the Will'. Knight, Sarah Kemble (1666-1727), diarist--'The Journal of Mme. Knight'. Mather, Cotton (1663-1728), theologian--'Wonders of the Invisible World'; 'Magnalia Christi Americana'. Rowlandson, Mary (1635?-78?), essayist--'A Narrative of the Captivity and Restoration of Mrs. Mary Rowlandson'. Sewall, Samuel (1652-1730), diarist--'Diary of Samuel Sewall 1674-1729'; 'The Selling of Joseph'. Smith, John (1580-1631), historian--'A Description of New England'; 'The General History of Virginia, New England, and the Summer Isles'. Taylor, Edward (1642-1729), poet--'God's Determinations'; 'Sacramental Meditations'. Ward, Nathaniel (1578?-1652), essayist--'The Simple Cobler of Aggawam'. Wigglesworth, Michael (1631-1705), poet--'The Day of Doom'. Williams, Roger (1603?-83), historian--'A Key into the Language of America'; 'The Bloody Tenet of Persecution'.

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The Shaping of a New Nation

American writing in colonial days, as has been seen, dealt largely with religion. In the last 30 years of the 18th century, however, men turned their attention from religion to the subject of government. These were the years when the colonies broke away from England and declared themselves a new and independent nation. It was a great decision for Americans to make. Feeling ran high, and people expressed their opinions in a body of writing that, if not literature in the narrow sense, is certainly literature in the sense of its being great writing.
Since World War II, moves for national independence have been numerous throughout the world. Historically, however, the first people to throw off a colonial yoke and establish a free society were those of the American Colonies. The literary record of their struggle thus is a fascinating and inspiring story to people everywhere.

Franklin--Spokesman for a Nation

The birth of the United States was witnessed by Benjamin Franklin (1706-90) in his last years. His career began in colonial days. At 17 he ran away from his home in Boston and went to Philadelphia. How he took up printing, made enough money to retire at 42, and educated himself is the subject of his 'Autobiography', first published in book form in English in 1793. This is the first and most celebrated story of the American self-made man. Many of his rules for self-improvement ("Early to bed, early to rise," and so forth) appeared in his 'Poor Richard's Almanack', first published in 1732.
Franklin was simple in manners and tastes. When he represented the colonies in the European courts, he insisted on wearing the simple homespun of colonial dress. He used the plain speech of the provincial people. He displayed the practical turn of mind of a people who had shrewdly conquered a wilderness.
Franklin embodied the American idea. That idea was defined by Michel Guillaume St. Jean de Crevecoeur (1735-1813), a Frenchman who lived in America for many years before the Revolution. In his 'Letters from an American Farmer' (1782) he described the colonists as happy compared with the suffering people of Europe. In one letter he asked, "What then is the American, this new man?" This is a challenging question even today, nearly 200 years later. Crevecoeur's answer then was:
"He is an American, who, leaving behind him all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater (nourishing mother). Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of men, whose labours and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world . . . . The American is a new man, who acts upon new principles; he must therefore entertain new ideas and form new opinions . . . . This is an American."
The immigrant prospered in America, and he became fiercely loyal to the system that made possible his prosperity. That system, which included a large measure of personal freedom, was threatened by the British. Americans tried to preserve it by peaceful means. When this became impossible, they chose to become a separate nation.

Thomas Paine Arouses the Patriots

The power of words to affect the course of history is clearly seen in the writings of Thomas Paine (1737-1809). The shooting had started at Lexington and Concord in April 1775, but for months there was no move to break away from England. Then, in January 1776, appeared Paine's pamphlet 'Common Sense'. In brilliant language, logical and passionate, yet so simple that all could understand, Paine argued in favor of declaring independence from Britain. The effect was electric.
By June the Continental Congress resolved to break away; and on July 4, 1776, the Declaration of Independence appeared. Paine continued his pamphleteering during the war in 'The Crisis', a series of 16 papers. The first one begins, "These are the times that try men's souls." George Washington said that without Paine's bold encouragement the American cause might have been lost.
The famous Declaration of Independence was largely the work of Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826). In justifying the American Revolution to the world he stated the political axioms on which the revolution was based, among them the proposition that "all men are created equal." This phrase is at the very heart of democracy.
After the war Americans, having rejected their rulers, were faced with the job of governing themselves. They attempted "to form a more perfect Union." The result was the Constitution. Although the United States has flourished under the system of government outlined in the Constitution, not all Americans favored adopting the new plan when it was proposed. In the great debate over adopting it, Alexander Hamilton (1755?-1804) and others wrote 85 essays, known as 'The Federalist' (1787-88), in support of the Constitution.
Poets during these years wrote patriotic verses on political themes. Some of the poems of John Trumbull (1750-1831) and Joel Barlow (1754-1812) are interesting, but in style they were imitative of English poetry. Novels too resembled those written of England. Susanna (Haswell) Rowson (1762-1824) wrote 'Charlotte Temple' (1791), a sentimental tale of a betrayed heroine. 'Wieland' (1798), by Charles Brockden Brown (1771-1810), is patterned after an English novel. This imitativeness is not surprising: writers were in the habit of writing like Englishmen.
More and more, however, authors wanted to write as Americans. They had won political independence; they now wanted literary independence. The poet Philip Freneau (1752-1832) pleaded for a native literature. So did Noah Webster (1758-1843). "Customs, habits, and language," he wrote, "should be national." He did his part by compiling 'The American Spelling Book' (1783) and his 'American Dictionary of the English Language' (1828). "Center," instead of "centre," and "honor," instead of "honour," are typical of Webster's "Americanized" spelling.
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Representative Writers: THE SHAPING OF A NEW NATION

The great questions in the last years of the 18th century were political ones. Should the colonists declare independence from England? Once they had done so, how, they asked, should they govern themselves? The literature of political discussion and debate in these years is of high quality. Immediately following independence, writers also made efforts to develop a native literature. This is the period of beginning for poetry, fiction, and drama in the United States.

Adams, Abigail (1744-1818), epistolist--'Letters of Mrs. Adams'. Adams, John (1735-1826), president and epistolist--'Diary and Autobiography'; 'The Adams-Jefferson Letters'. Barlow, Joel (1754-1812), poet--'The Vision of Columbus' ('The Columbiad'); 'The Hasty Pudding'. Brown, Charles Brockden (1771-1810), novelist--'Wieland'; 'Edgar Huntly'; 'Jane Talbot'. Crevecoeur, Michel Guillaume St. Jean de (1735-1813), essayist--'Letters from an American Farmer'. Equiano, Oloudah (Gustavus Vassa) (1745-1801), prose writer--'The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Oloudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African'. Franklin, Benjamin (1706-90), prose writer--'Autobiography'; 'Poor Richard's Almanack'. Freneau, Philip (1752-1832), poet--'The Indian Burying-Ground'; 'The British Prison Ship'. Hamilton, Alexander (1755?-1804), essayist--'The Federalist' (coauthor). Hopkinson, Francis (1737-91), poet--'The Battle of the Kegs'. Jefferson, Thomas (1743-1826), historian--'Notes on the State of Virginia'. Paine, Thomas (1737-1809), political philosopher--'Common Sense'; 'The Crisis'; 'The Rights of Man'. Payne, John Howard (1791-1852), playwright--'Clari, or the Maid of Milan' (with song 'Home, Sweet Home'). Rowson, Susanna (Haswell) (1762-1824), novelist--'Charlotte Temple'; 'Rebecca'. Tecumseh (1768-1813), orator--'We All Belong to One Family'. Trumbull, John (1750-1831), poetic satirist--'M'Fingal'; 'Progress of Dullness'. Webster, Noah (1758-1843), lexicographer--'Spelling Book'; 'American Dictionary of the English Language'. Wheatley, Phillis (1753?-84), poet--'Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral'. Weems, Mason Locke (1759-1825), biographer--'The Life and Memorable Actions of George Washington'.


Literature of the Early Republic

It was one thing for writers to want to create a native American literature; it was quite another thing to know how to do it. For 50 years after the founding of the nation, authors patterned their work after the writings of Englishmen. William Cullen Bryant was known as the American Wordsworth; Washington Irving's essays resemble those of Addison and Steele; James Fenimore Cooper wrote novels like those of Scott. Although the form and style of these Americans were English, the content--character and especially setting--was American. Every American region was described by at least one prominent writer.
Frontier life in western Pennsylvania is pictured in 'Modern Chivalry' (1792-1815), written by a friend of James Madison and Philip Freneau, Hugh Henry Brackenridge (1748-1816). This episodic narrative, modeled on Miguel de Cervantes' 'Don Quixote', shows how people in the backcountry behaved politically under the new Constitution. Henry Adams called 'Modern Chivalry' a "more thoroughly American book than any written before 1833." American it is, in character, setting, and theme.
The beauties of New England's hills and forests were sung by William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878). 'Thanatopsis' (1817) and 'A Forest Hymn' (1825) show a reverence for nature. The English critic Matthew Arnold thought 'To a Waterfowl' (1818) the best short poem in the English language.
New York City and its environs were the province of Washington Irving (1783-1859). 'Salmagundi' (1807-8), which he coauthored, describes the city's fashionable life. 'A History of New York . . . by Diedrich Knickerbocker' (1809), an imaginary Dutch historian, is an amusing account of its history under Dutch rule.
Irving's masterpieces were his sketches 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow' and 'Rip Van Winkle', both published in 1820. These tales--the first of Ichabod Crane, a superstitious schoolmaster, the second of Rip, who sought refuge in the Catskills from his shrewish wife and slept for 20 years--are among the best-loved American stories. Irving's literary skill was appreciated in England too. There he was recognized as the first important American writer.

James Fenimore Cooper

James Fenimore Cooper (1789-1851) wrote more than 30 novels and many other works. He was an enormously popular writer, in Europe as well as at home. Of interest to readers today are his opinions on democracy. Reared on an estate near Cooperstown, N.Y., the writer had a patrician upbringing. When he criticized democracy, as in 'The American Democrat' (1838), he criticized the crudity he saw in the United States of Andrew Jackson. Yet he defended the American democratic system against attacks by European aristocrats.
In his day Cooper was best known as the author of the 'Leatherstocking Tales', five novels of frontier life--the first examples of a type of literature that would become extremely popular decades later. These stories of stirring adventure, such as 'The Last of the Mohicans' (1826) and 'The Deerslayer' (1841), feature Cooper's hero Natty Bumppo, the skillful, courageous, and valorous woodsman. This character embodied American traits and so to Europeans seemed to represent the New World.
The South too was portrayed in fiction in these years. 'Swallow Barn' (1832), by John Pendleton Kennedy (1795-1870), pictures life on a Virginia plantation. Later portrayals of life in the Old Dominion, in fiction and in motion pictures, often follow the idealized picture of Virginia given in 'Swallow Barn'. In South Carolina many adventure novels of frontier life, such as 'The Yemassee' (1835), came from the pen of William Gilmore Simms (1806-70), sometimes called the Cooper of the South.
Thus by 1835 American writers had made a notable start toward creating a new and independent national literature. In Scotland in 1820 Sydney Smith, a famous critic who wrote for the Edinburgh Review, had asked: "In the four quarters of the globe, who reads an American book?" Sensitive Americans, conscious of their cultural inferiority, winced at this slighting remark. More and more, however, they had reason to be proud of their writers. In the next 20 years American literature would come to the full flowering which had been hoped for since the Revolution.
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Activity: Film Viewing of “The Legend of the Sleepy Hollow”

The Author:

Washington Irving (1783-1859), American writer, the first American author to achieve international renown, who created the fictional characters Rip Van Winkle and Ichabod Crane. The critical acceptance and enduring popularity of Irving's tales involving these characters proved the effectiveness of the short story as an American literary form.
Born in New York City, Irving studied law at private schools. After serving in several law offices and traveling in Europe for his health from 1804 to 1806, he was eventually admitted to the bar in 1806. His interest in the law was neither deep nor long-lasting, however, and Irving began to contribute satirical essays and sketches to New York newspapers as early as 1802. A group of these pieces, written from 1802 to 1803 and collected under the title Letters of Jonathan Oldstyle, Gent., won Irving his earliest literary recognition. From 1807 to 1808 he was the leading figure in a social group that included his brothers William Irving and Peter Irving and William's brother-in-law James Kirke Paulding; together they wrote Salmagundi, or, the Whim-Whams and Opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, Esq., and Others, a series of satirical essays and poems on New York society. Irving's contributions to this miscellany established his reputation as an essayist and wit, and this reputation was enhanced by his next work, A History of New York (1809), ostensibly written by Irving's famous comic creation, the Dutch-American scholar Diedrich Knickerbocker. The work is a satirical account of New York State during the period of Dutch occupation (1609-1664); Irving's mocking tone and comical descriptions of early American life counterbalanced the nationalism prevalent in much American writing of the time. Generally considered the first important contribution to American comic literature, and a great popular success from the start, the work brought Irving considerable fame and financial reward.
In 1815 Irving went to Liverpool, England, as a silent partner in his brothers' commercial firm. When, after a series of losses, the business went into bankruptcy in 1818, Irving returned to writing for a living. In England he became the intimate friend of several leading men of letters, including Thomas Campbell, Sir Walter Scott, and Thomas Moore. Under the pen name of Geoffrey Crayon, Irving wrote the essays and short stories collected in The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. (1819-1820). The Sketch Book, as it is also known, was his most popular work and was widely acclaimed in both England and the United States for its geniality, grace, and humor. The collection's two most famous stories, both based on German folktales, are “Rip Van Winkle,” about a man who falls asleep in the woods for twenty years, and “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” about a schoolteacher's encounter with a legendary headless horseman. Set in rural New York, these tales are considered classics in American literature.
From 1826 until 1829 Irving was a member of the staff of the United States legation in Madrid. During this period and after his return to England, he wrote several historical works, the most popular of which was the History of Christopher Columbus (1828). Another well-known work of this period was The Alhambra (1832), a series of sketches and stories based on Irving's residence in 1829 in an ancient Moorish palace at Granada, Spain. In 1832, after an absence that lasted 17 years, he returned to the United States, where he was welcomed as a figure of international importance. Over the next few years Irving traveled to the American West and wrote several books using the West as their setting. These works include A Tour on the Prairies (1835), Astoria (1836), and The Adventures of Captain Bonneville, U.S.A. (1837).
In 1842 Irving was appointed U.S. minister to Madrid, where he lived until 1846, continuing his historical research and writing. He returned to the United States again in 1846 and settled at Sunnyside, his country home near Tarrytown, New York, where he lived until his death. (Sunnyside is now a historic house and museum.) Irving's popular but elegant style, based on the styles of the British writers Joseph Addison and Oliver Goldsmith, and the ease and picturesque fancy of his best work attracted an international audience. To a certain extent his romantic attachment to Europe resulted in a thinness and overrefinement of material. Much of his work deals directly with English life and customs, and he never attempted to come to terms with the democratic American life of his time. On the other hand, American writers were encouraged by Irving's example to look beyond the United States for subject matter.
Irving's other works include Bracebridge Hall (1822), Tales of a Traveller (1824), A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada (1829), Oliver Goldsmith (1849), and Life of Washington (5 volumes, 1855-1859).
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The Influence of Puritanism

For more than 100 years after the Pilgrim landing in 1620, life and writing in New England were dominated by the religious attitude known as Puritanism. To understand colonial life and literature one must understand Puritanism, one of the major influences in American life.
The early settlers in New England were Protestants. England had become a Protestant country when Henry VIII broke away from the Roman Catholic church. Some Englishmen, however, felt that the break was not complete. They wanted to "purify" the church of Catholic features; they were therefore known as Puritans. Another group, the Separatists, wanted to separate, or break away entirely, from the Church of England. These were the Pilgrims. Both groups came to the New World in order to worship God in their own way and to escape persecution by English authorities. They felt they had a divine mission to fulfill. It was the will of God, they believed, that they establish a religious society in the wilderness. This belief must have helped them endure the hard life they faced as colonists.
In the Puritan view, God was supreme. The Puritans held that He revealed His will through the Bible, which they believed literally. Clergymen interpreted the Bible in sermons, but each man and woman was obliged to study it for himself too. The people had to be educated in order to read the Bible, to discuss it, and to write about it. Harvard College was founded in 1636 partly to meet this demand for an educated populace. Other colleges and public schools followed. Indeed, the intellectual quality of New England life, which later influenced other parts of the country, is traceable to the Puritans' need for a trained and literate population.

Religious Quality of Puritan Writing

New Englanders have always been industrious writers. Most of what they wrote in colonial times was prompted by their religious feeling. Many sermons were published and widely read. Cotton Mather (1663-1728), the leading clergyman in Boston in the early 1700s, wrote more than 400 separate works. The most ambitious was his 'Magnalia Christi Americana' (Christ's Great Achievements in America), published in 1702.
Clergymen encouraged some people to keep personal diaries or journals. The most readable of these today is the diary of Samuel Sewall (1652-1730). The 'Diary of Samuel Sewall 1674-1729' (published 1878-82) is lively and often amusing, as when the author wrote of his courtship of Madame Winthrop: "Asked her to acquit me of rudeness if I drew off her glove. Enquiring the reason, I told her 'twas great odds between handling a dead goat and a living lady."
Sewall was a courageous man. A judge during the witchcraft trials in 1692, he concurred in the decision to hang 19 persons condemned as witches. After the hysteria had died down, however, he alone among the judges stood up in meeting and publicly asked "to take the blame and shame" for his part in the executions. He was also an early foe of slavery. His 'Selling of Joseph' (1700) was perhaps the earliest antislavery pamphlet in America.
The Puritans wrote little imaginative literature. The theater was not welcomed by them any more than it was by the Puritans who closed the London theaters in 1642. Fiction writing was in its infancy in England, and it probably did not occur to colonists in the New World to write stories. Their only imaginative literature was poetry; and that, like everything else in Puritan life, was prompted by religion.
The first book in English to be published in the New World was the 'Bay Psalm Book' (1640). The new translations of the Biblical psalms were plain; the meter and rhyme were regular, as in Psalm xxiii, which begins as follows:
The Lord to me a shepherd is, want therefore shall not I. He in the folds of tender-grass doth cause me down to lie.
This familiar rhythm was used by Michael Wigglesworth (1631-1705) in 'The Day of Doom' (1662), a 224-stanza account in verse of the Last Judgment. Based on the Puritan religious belief in Calvinism, the poem presents in dramatic terms the divine judgment of those condemned to eternal torment in hell and also of those who, by God's grace, are elected to gain eternal salvation in the world to come. Many Puritans, both the young and the old, committed 'The Day of Doom' to memory.
More interesting, because it is better poetry, are the religious verses of Edward Taylor (1642-1729). These were first published in 1939. Taylor was a devout clergyman, but his poems are not harsh and gloomy. Instead, they express his feeling of joy and delight in the Christian life. For instance, in one poem he pictured the church members as passengers in a coach, Christ's coach, singing as they rattle along to salvation in the next world:
For in Christ's coach they sweetly sing, As they to Glory ride therein.
Taylor's verse is full of such vivid and exciting metaphors. His is the most interesting American poetry of colonial times.

Jonathan Edwards--The Last Puritan

Puritanism could not maintain its authority forever. As the seaboard settlements grew and people became prosperous, as more political power was given to the people, and as a more scientific attitude challenged the old religious way of thinking, men and women in New England came to be more worldly and to take their religion for granted. It was to combat this worldliness that Jonathan Edwards (1703-58), the last and the greatest Puritan, taught and preached and wrote. Puritanism was fated to die out, but not before Edwards made heroic efforts to keep it alive.
Edwards believed that the people were too matter-of-fact about religion. To be religious, one must feel deeply, he thought. He therefore joined with others in preaching emotional sermons. These produced a wave of religious revivals. After the enthusiasm had passed, however, Edwards was dismissed from his congregation and became a missionary to the Indians. He was a brilliant theologian and philosopher, and most of his writings are difficult to read. His 'Personal Narrative', however, which tells the story of his youthful religious experiences, is an honest and moving revelation. It was written in about 1740.
The nation owes a great debt to Puritanism. It is true that in several ways Puritan life was harsh and unlovely, as one learns from reading 'The Scarlet Letter', Nathaniel Hawthorne's great novel. Nevertheless one must admire the Puritans for their zeal, their courage, and their strong moral nature. They recognized that man is often guilty of evil actions. The 20th century has seen enough cruelty and depravity for one to believe that the Puritan view of human beings was valid in some respects.

AMERICAN LITERATURE

Wherever there are people there will be a literature. A literature is the record of human experience, and people have always been impelled to write down their impressions of life. They do so in diaries and letters, in pamphlets and books, and in essays, poems, plays, and stories. In this respect American literature is like any other. There are, however, many characteristics of American writing that make it different from all others. This has not always been true.
American literature began with the first English colonies in Virginia and New England. Colonists came to the New World to find religious freedom and prosperity. They came, however, in no spirit of revolution. They came as Englishmen, bringing with them the literary wealth of English legends, ballads, and poems and the richness of the English language. They were loyal to the Crown. These settlers did not even call themselves Americans.
How the English colonists slowly came to think and act as "Americans" is a familiar and proud story. How their literature slowly grew to be "American" writing is less well known. The growth of American literature, however, follows closely the history of the nation from its beginning to the present time.
American authors have written countless essays and songs, poems and plays, novels and short stories. There is space here to discuss only the most important and the best. Even a short summary, however, shows something of the splendid accomplishment of American literature since it emerged from its crude colonial beginnings more than 300 years ago.

Colonial Times in America

The man sometimes called the first American writer was Capt. John Smith (1580-1631). He was a soldier-adventurer who came to Virginia in 1607 and wrote pamphlets describing the new land. His first, 'A True Relation of Virginia' (1608), aimed at attracting settlers and winning financial support for the colony. His 'General History of Virginia' (1624) elaborates on his experiences. In it he tells how his life was saved by Pocahontas. Smith was an able leader and an interesting reporter. His books are valued because he was the first person to write about the English settlements.
Colonial life in Virginia was best described by William Byrd (1674-1744), owner of Westover, an estate of almost 180,000 acres on the James River. The beautiful house is a showplace today. Educated in England, Byrd returned home to lead the life of a country gentleman. He worked hard managing his affairs. His most notable public act was to survey the boundary between Virginia and Carolina, fighting his way through the great Dismal Swamp. He described this adventure of 1728-29 in 'History of the Dividing Line', published in 1841. He told, often amusingly, of settlement life in the backcountry. Byrd's 'Secret Diary', discovered in 1940, gives intimate glimpses of colonial times and helps bring to life this refined and witty colonial gentleman.
Plantation life in Virginia was civilized, even elegant. The people were not intellectual, however, and they produced little writing. The inhabitants, descended from the Royalist, or "Cavalier," group in England, were faithful members of the Church of England. They accepted religion as a matter of course and felt no need to write about it. In addition, the system of plantation life produced a number of isolated communities, as did the feudalism of the Middle Ages. This kept people from gathering in cities.
People in the Southern Colonies therefore had little need to write, and social conditions, furthermore, did not encourage them to do so. The South's great contributions, both to statecraft and to literature, came later. The significant writing of colonial times was done in New England, where American literature may properly be said to have begun.
Colonial life began in New England with the landing of the Pilgrims at Cape Cod in 1620. Before going ashore they signed the Mayflower Compact, an agreement to live together in harmony under law. It is found in 'History of Plimoth Plantation'. This moving account of the early struggles of the colonists was written by William Bradford (1590-1657), who was governor for 30 years. A similar journal was kept by Governor John Winthrop (1588-1649) of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, founded ten years after Plymouth. Present-day knowledge of Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims' dealings with Indians, and other experiences of the first settlers comes from these two narratives of the colonization.

Wuthering Heights

Wuthering Heights is a novel that is told in a series of narratives, which are themselves told to the narrator, a gentleman named Lockwood. Lockwood rents a fine house and park called Thrushcross Grange in Yorkshire, and gradually learns more and more about the histories of two local families. This is what he learns from a housekeeper, Ellen Dean, who had been with one of the two families for all of her life:
In around 1760, a gentleman-farmer named Earnshaw went from his farm, Wuthering Heights, to Liverpool on a business trip. He found there a little boy who looked like a gypsy who had apparently been abandoned on the streets, and brought the child home with him, to join his own family of his wife, his son Hindley, his daughter Catherine, a manservant named Joseph and the little maid, Ellen. He named the boy Heathcliff after a son of his who had died. All the other members of the household were opposed to the introduction of a strange boy, except for Catherine, who was a little younger than Heathcliff and became fast friends with him. Hindley in particular felt as though Heathcliff had supplanted his place, although he was several years older, and the true son and heir. Hindley bullied Heathcliff when he could, and Heathcliff used his influence over Earnshaw to get his way. Heathcliff was a strange, silent boy, who appeared not to mind the blows he received from Hindley, although he was in fact very vindictive. Earnshaw's wife died. Hindley was sent away to college in a last attempt to turn him into a worthy son, and to ease pressures at home.
After some years, Earnshaw's health declined and he grew increasingly alienated from his family: in his peevish old age he believed that everyone disliked Heathcliff, because he liked him. He did not like his daughter Catherine's charming and mischievous ways. Finally he died, and Catherine and Heathcliff were very grieved, but consoled each other with thoughts of heaven.
Hindley returned, now around twenty years old ¬ Heathcliff was about twelve and Catherine was eleven. He was married to a young woman named Frances, to the surprise of everyone at Wuthering Heights. Hindley used his new power to reduce Heathcliff to the level of a servant, although Heathcliff and Catherine continued their intimacy. Catherine taught Heathcliff her lessons, and would join him in the fields, or they would run away to the moors all day to play, never minding their punishments afterward.
One day they ran down to the Grange, a more civilized house where the Lintons lived with their children Edgar (13) and Isabella (11). They despised the spoiled, delicate Linton children, and made faces and yelled at them through the window. The Lintons called for help and the wilder children fled, but Catherine was caught by a bulldog, and they were brought inside. When the Lintons found out that the girl was Miss Earnshaw, they took good care of her and threw Heathcliff out.
Catherine stayed at the Grange for 5 weeks, and came home dressed and acting like a proper young lady, to the delight of Hindley and his wife, and to Heathcliff's sorrow (he felt as though she had moved beyond him). In the next few years, Catherine struggled to maintain her relationship with Heathcliff, and to socialize with the elegant Linton children.
Frances gave birth to a son, Hareton, and died soon after of tuberculosis. Hindley gave into wild despair and alcoholism, and the household fell into chaos. Heathcliff was harshly treated, and came to hate Hindley more and more. Edgar Linton fell in love with Catherine, who was attracted by what he represented, although she loved Heathcliff much more seriously. They became engaged, and Heathcliff ran away. Catherine fell ill after looking for Heathcliff all night in a storm, and went to the Grange to get better. The older Lintons caught her fever and died of it. Edgar and Catherine were married when she was 18 or 19.
They lived fairly harmoniously together for almost a year ¬ then Heathcliff returned. He had mysteriously acquired gentlemanly manners, education, and some money. Catherine was overjoyed to see him; Edgar considerably less so. Heathcliff stayed at Wuthering Heights, where he gradually gained financial control by paying Hindley's gambling debts. Heathcliff's relationship with the Linton household became more and more strained as Edgar became extremely unhappy with the situation. Finally there was a violent quarrel: Heathcliff left the Grange to avoid being thrown out by Edgar's servants, Catherine was angry at both of the men, and Edgar was furious at Heathcliff and displeased by his wife's behavior. Catherine shut herself in her room for several days. In the mean time, Heathcliff eloped with Isabella (who was struck by his romantic appearance) by way of revenge on Edgar. Edgar could not forgive his sister's betrayal of him, and didn't try to stop the marriage. Catherine became extremely ill, feverish and delirious, and nearly died ¬ though she was carefully tended by Edgar once he found out her condition.
A few months later, Catherine was still very delicate, and looked as though she would probably die. She was pregnant. Heathcliff and Isabella returned to Wuthering Heights, and Isabella wrote to Ellen to describe how brutally she was mistreated by her savage husband, and how much she regretted her marriage. Ellen went to visit them, to see if she could improve Isabella's situation. She told them about Catherine's condition, and Heathcliff asked to see her.
A few days later, Heathcliff came to the Grange while Edgar was at church. He had a passionate reunion with Catherine, in which they forgave each other as much as possible for their mutual betrayals. Catherine fainted, Edgar came back, and Heathcliff left. Catherine died that night after giving birth to a daughter. Edgar was terribly grieved and Heathcliff wildly so ¬ he begged Catherine's ghost to haunt him. A few days later Hindley tried to murder Heathcliff, but Heathcliff almost murdered him instead. Isabella escaped from Wuthering Heights and went to live close to London, where she gave birth to a son, Linton. Hindley died a few months after his sister Catherine.
Catherine and Edgar's daughter, Catherine, grew to be a beloved and charming child. She was brought up entirely within the confines of the Grange, and was entirely unaware of the existence of Wuthering Heights, Heathcliff, or her cousin Hareton there. Once she found the farmhouse while exploring the moors, and was upset to think that such an ignorant rustic as Hareton could be related to her. Ellen told her she could not return there.
Isabella died when Linton was about 12 years old, and Edgar went to fetch him to the Grange. Linton was a peevish and effeminate boy, but Catherine was pleased to have a playmate. That very day, however, Heathcliff sent Joseph to fetch his son to Wuthering Heights, and when Catherine woke up the next morning her cousin was gone. Though sad at first, she soon got over it, and continued her happy childhood.
On her sixteenth birthday, Catherine and Ellen strayed onto Heathcliff's lands, and he invited them into Wuthering Heights to see Linton. Catherine was pleased to renew her acquaintance, and Heathcliff was eager to promote a romance between the two cousins, so as to ensure himself of Edgar's land when he died. When they returned home, Edgar forbade her to continue visiting there, and said that Heathcliff was an evil man. Catherine then began a secret correspondence with Linton, which became an exchange of love letters. Ellen found out, and put an end to it.
Edgar became ill. Heathcliff asked Catherine to return to Wuthering Heights because Linton was breaking his heart for her. She did so, and found Linton to be a bullying invalid, but not without charm. Ellen fell ill as well and was unable to prevent Catherine from visiting Wuthering Heights every day. She felt obliged to help Linton, and despised Hareton for being clumsy and illiterate. Ellen told Edgar about the visits when she found out, and he forbade Catherine to go any more.
Edgar was in poor health and didn't know about Linton's equally bad health and bad character, so he thought it would be good for Catherine to marry him ¬ since Linton and not Catherine would inherit the Grange, most likely. A system was fixed up in which Linton and Catherine met outside. Linton was increasingly ill, and seemed to be terrified of something ¬ his father was forcing him to court Catherine. Heathcliff feared Linton would die before Edgar did, so eventually he all but kidnapped Catherine and Ellen, and told them Catherine couldn't go home to see her dying father until she married Linton. Catherine did marry Linton, and escaped in time to see Edgar before he died.
After Edgar's funeral (he was buried next to his wife) Heathcliff fetched Catherine to Wuthering Heights to take care of Linton, who was dying, and to free up the Grange so he could rent it out (to Lockwood, in fact). He told Ellen that he was still obsessed by his beloved Catherine, and had gone to gaze at her long-dead body when her coffin was uncovered by the digging of Edgar's grave.
Catherine had to care of Linton alone, and when he died, she maintained an unfriendly attitude to the household: Heathcliff, Hareton (who was in love with her), and Zillah, the housekeeper. As time passed, however, she became lonely enough to seek Hareton's company, and began teaching him to read.
This is around the time of Lockwood's time at the Grange. He left the area for several months, and when he returned, he found out that while he was gone:
Heathcliff began to act more and more strangely, and became incapable of concentrating on the world around him, as though Catherine's ghost wouldn't let him. He all but stopped eating and sleeping, and Ellen found him dead one morning, with a savage smile on his face. He was buried next to Catherine, as he had wished. Hareton grieved for him, but was too happy with the younger Catherine to be inconsolable. When the novel ends, they plan to marry and move to the Grange.
Character List
Catherine (or Cathy) Earnshaw: is Mr. Earnshaw's daughter and Hindley's sister. She is also Heathcliff's foster sister and beloved. She marries Edgar Linton and has a daughter, also named Catherine. Catherine is beautiful and charming, but she is never as civilized as she pretends to be. In her heart she is always a wild girl playing on the moors with Heathcliff. She regards it as her right to be loved by all, and has an unruly temper. Heathcliff usually calls her Cathy; Edgar usually calls her Catherine.
Catherine (or Cathy) Linton: (who marries Linton Heathcliff to become Catherine Heathcliff, and then marries Hareton to be Catherine Earnshaw) is the daughter of the older Catherine and Edgar Linton. She has all her mother's charm without her wildness, although she is by no means submissive and spiritless. Edgar calls her Cathy.
Mr. Earnshaw: is the father of Catherine and Hindley, a plain, fairly well-off farmer with few pretensions but a kind heart. He is a stern sort of father. He takes in Heathcliff despite his family's protests.
Edgar Linton: is Isabella's older brother, who marries Catherine Earnshaw and fathers Catherine Linton. In contrast to Heathcliff, he is a gently bred, refined man, a patient husband and a loving father. His faults are a certain effeminacy, and a tendency to be cold and unforgiving when his dignity is hurt.
Ellen (or Nelly) Dean: is one of the main narrators. She has been a servant with the Earnshaws and the Lintons for all her life, and knows them better than anyone else. She is independently minded and high spirited, and retains an objective viewpoint on those she serves. She is called Nelly by those who are on the most egalitarian terms with her: Mr. Earnshaw, the older Catherine, Heathcliff.
Frances Earnshaw: is Hindley's wife, a young woman of unknown background. She seems rather flighty and giddy to Ellen, and displays an irrational fear of death, which is explained when she dies of tuberculosis.
Hareton Earnshaw: is the son of Hindley and Frances; he marries the younger Catherine. For most of the novel, he is rough and rustic and uncultured, having been carefully kept from all civilizing influences by Heathcliff. He grows up to be superficially like Heathcliff, but is really much more sweet-tempered and forgiving. He never blames Heathcliff for having disinherited him, for example, and remains his oppressor's staunchest ally.
Hindley Earnshaw: is the only son of Mr. and Mrs. Earnshaw, and Catherine's older brother. He is a bullying, discontented boy who grows up to be a violent alcoholic when his beloved wife, Frances, dies. He hates Heathcliff because he felt supplanted in his father's affections by the other boy, and Heathcliff hates him even more in return.
Heathcliff: is a foundling taken in by Mr. Earnshaw and raised with his children. Of unknown descent, he seems to represent wild and natural forces which often seem amoral and dangerous for society. His almost inhuman devotion to Catherine is the moving force in his life, seconded by his vindictive hatred for all those who stand between him and his beloved. He is cruel but magnificent in his consistency, and the reader can never forget that at the heart of the grown man lies the abandoned, hungry child of the streets of Liverpool.
Isabella Linton: is Edgar's younger sister, and marries Heathcliff to become Isabella Heathcliff; her son is named Linton Heathcliff. Before she marries Heathcliff, she is a rather shallow-minded young lady, pretty and quick-witted but a little foolish (as can be seen by her choice of husbands). Her unhappy marriage brings out an element of cruelty in her character: when her husband treats her brutally, she rapidly grows to hate him with all her heart.
Joseph: is an old fanatic, a household servant at Wuthering Heights who outlives all his masters. His brand of religion is unforgiving for others and self-serving for himself. His heavy Yorkshire accent gives flavor to the novel.
Dr. Kenneth: is a minor character, the local doctor who appears when people are sick or dying. He is a sympathetic and intelligent man, whose main concern is the health of his patients.
Mr. and Mrs. Linton: are Edgar and Isabella's parents, minor characters. They spoil their children and turn the older Catherine into a little lady, being above all concerned about good manners and behavior. They are unsympathetic to Heathcliff when he is a child.
Linton Heathcliff: is the son of Heathcliff and Isabella. He combines the worst characteristics of both parents, and is effeminate, weakly, and cruel. He uses his status as an invalid to manipulate the tender-hearted younger Catherine. His father despises him. Linton marries Catherine and dies soon after.
Lockwood: is the narrator of the novel. He is a gentleman from London, in distinct contrast to the other rural characters. He is not particularly sympathetic and tends to patronize his subjects.
Zillah: is the housekeeper at Wuthering Heights after Hindley's death and before Heathcliff's. She doesn't particularly understand the people she lives with, and stands in marked contrast to Ellen, who is deeply invested in them. She is an impatient but capable woman.

Julius Caesar

Plot Overview


Two tribunes, Flavius and Murellus, find scores of Roman citizens wandering the streets, neglecting their work in order to watch Julius Caesar’s triumphal parade: Caesar has defeated the Roman general Pompey, his archrival, in battle. The tribunes scold the citizens for abandoning their duties and remove decorations from Caesar’s statues. Caesar enters with his entourage, including the military and political figures Brutus, Cassius, and Antony. A Soothsayer calls out to Caesar to “beware the Ides of March,” but Caesar ignores him and proceeds with his victory celebration (I.ii.19, I.ii.25).
Cassius and Brutus, both longtime intimates of Caesar and each other, converse. Cassius tells Brutus that he has seemed distant lately; Brutus replies that he has been at war with himself. Cassius states that he wishes Brutus could see himself as others see him, for then Brutus would realize how honored and respected he is. Brutus says that he fears that the people want Caesar to become king, which would overturn the republic. Cassius concurs that Caesar is treated like a god though he is merely a man, no better than Brutus or Cassius. Cassius recalls incidents of Caesar’s physical weakness and marvels that this fallible man has become so powerful. He blames his and Brutus’s lack of will for allowing Caesar’s rise to power: surely the rise of such a man cannot be the work of fate. Brutus considers Cassius’s words as Caesar returns. Upon seeing Cassius, Caesar tells Antony that he deeply distrusts Cassius.
Caesar departs, and another politician, Casca, tells Brutus and Cassius that, during the celebration, Antony offered the crown to Caesar three times and the people cheered, but Caesar refused it each time. He reports that Caesar then fell to the ground and had some kind of seizure before the crowd; his demonstration of weakness, however, did not alter the plebeians’ devotion to him. Brutus goes home to consider Cassius’s words regarding Caesar’s poor qualifications to rule, while Cassius hatches a plot to draw Brutus into a conspiracy against Caesar.
That night, Rome is plagued with violent weather and a variety of bad omens and portents. Brutus finds letters in his house apparently written by Roman citizens worried that Caesar has become too powerful. The letters have in fact been forged and planted by Cassius, who knows that if Brutus believes it is the people’s will, he will support a plot to remove Caesar from power. A committed supporter of the republic, Brutus fears the possibility of a dictator-led empire, worrying that the populace would lose its voice. Cassius arrives at Brutus’s home with his conspirators, and Brutus, who has already been won over by the letters, takes control of the meeting. The men agree to lure Caesar from his house and kill him. Cassius wants to kill Antony too, for Antony will surely try to hinder their plans, but Brutus disagrees, believing that too many deaths will render their plot too bloody and dishonor them. Having agreed to spare Antony, the conspirators depart. Portia, Brutus’s wife, observes that Brutus appears preoccupied. She pleads with him to confide in her, but he rebuffs her.
Caesar prepares to go to the Senate. His wife, Calpurnia, begs him not to go, describing recent nightmares she has had in which a statue of Caesar streamed with blood and smiling men bathed their hands in the blood. Caesar refuses to yield to fear and insists on going about his daily business. Finally, Calpurnia convinces him to stay home—if not out of caution, then as a favor to her. But Decius, one of the conspirators, then arrives and convinces Caesar that Calpurnia has misinterpreted her dreams and the recent omens. Caesar departs for the Senate in the company of the conspirators.
As Caesar proceeds through the streets toward the Senate, the Soothsayer again tries but fails to get his attention. The citizen Artemidorus hands him a letter warning him about the conspirators, but Caesar refuses to read it, saying that his closest personal concerns are his last priority. At the Senate, the conspirators speak to Caesar, bowing at his feet and encircling him. One by one, they stab him to death. When Caesar sees his dear friend Brutus among his murderers, he gives up his struggle and dies.
The murderers bathe their hands and swords in Caesar’s blood, thus bringing Calpurnia’s premonition to fruition. Antony, having been led away on a false pretext, returns and pledges allegiance to Brutus but weeps over Caesar’s body. He shakes hands with the conspirators, thus marking them all as guilty while appearing to make a gesture of conciliation. When Antony asks why they killed Caesar, Brutus replies that he will explain their purpose in a funeral oration. Antony asks to be allowed to speak over the body as well; Brutus grants his permission, though Cassius remains suspicious of Antony. The conspirators depart, and Antony, alone now, swears that Caesar’s death shall be avenged.
Brutus and Cassius go to the Forum to speak to the public. Cassius exits to address another part of the crowd. Brutus declares to the masses that though he loved Caesar, he loves Rome more, and Caesar’s ambition posed a danger to Roman liberty. The speech placates the crowd. Antony appears with Caesar’s body, and Brutus departs after turning the pulpit over to Antony. Repeatedly referring to Brutus as “an honorable man,” Antony’s speech becomes increasingly sarcastic; questioning the claims that Brutus made in his speech that Caesar acted only out of ambition, Antony points out that Caesar brought much wealth and glory to Rome, and three times turned down offers of the crown. Antony then produces Caesar’s will but announces that he will not read it for it would upset the people inordinately. The crowd nevertheless begs him to read the will, so he descends from the pulpit to stand next to Caesar’s body. He describes Caesar’s horrible death and shows Caesar’s wounded body to the crowd. He then reads Caesar’s will, which bequeaths a sum of money to every citizen and orders that his private gardens be made public. The crowd becomes enraged that this generous man lies dead; calling Brutus and Cassius traitors, the masses set off to drive them from the city.
Meanwhile, Caesar’s adopted son and appointed successor, Octavius, arrives in Rome and forms a three-person coalition with Antony and Lepidus. They prepare to fight Cassius and Brutus, who have been driven into exile and are raising armies outside the city. At the conspirators’ camp, Brutus and Cassius have a heated argument regarding matters of money and honor, but they ultimately reconcile. Brutus reveals that he is sick with grief, for in his absence Portia has killed herself. The two continue to prepare for battle with Antony and Octavius. That night, the Ghost of Caesar appears to Brutus, announcing that Brutus will meet him again on the battlefield.
Octavius and Antony march their army toward Brutus and Cassius. Antony tells Octavius where to attack, but Octavius says that he will make his own orders; he is already asserting his authority as the heir of Caesar and the next ruler of Rome. The opposing generals meet on the battlefield and exchange insults before beginning combat.
Cassius witnesses his own men fleeing and hears that Brutus’s men are not performing effectively. Cassius sends one of his men, Pindarus, to see how matters are progressing. From afar, Pindarus sees one of their leaders, Cassius’s best friend, Titinius, being surrounded by cheering troops and concludes that he has been captured. Cassius despairs and orders Pindarus to kill him with his own sword. He dies proclaiming that Caesar is avenged. Titinius himself then arrives—the men encircling him were actually his comrades, cheering a victory he had earned. Titinius sees Cassius’s corpse and, mourning the death of his friend, kills himself.
Brutus learns of the deaths of Cassius and Titinius with a heavy heart, and prepares to take on the Romans again. When his army loses, doom appears imminent. Brutus asks one of his men to hold his sword while he impales himself on it. Finally, Caesar can rest satisfied, he says as he dies. Octavius and Antony arrive. Antony speaks over Brutus’s body, calling him the noblest Roman of all. While the other conspirators acted out of envy and ambition, he observes, Brutus genuinely believed that he acted for the benefit of Rome. Octavius orders that Brutus be buried in the most honorable way. The men then depart to celebrate their victory.

ROBINSON CRUSOE

Plot Overview
Robinson Crusoe is an Englishman from the town of York in the seventeenth century, the youngest son of a merchant of German origin. Encouraged by his father to study law, Crusoe expresses his wish to go to sea instead. His family is against Crusoe going out to sea, and his father explains that it is better to seek a modest, secure life for oneself. Initially, Robinson is committed to obeying his father, but he eventually succumbs to temptation and embarks on a ship bound for London with a friend. When a storm causes the near deaths of Crusoe and his friend, the friend is dissuaded from sea travel, but Crusoe still goes on to set himself up as merchant on a ship leaving London. This trip is financially successful, and Crusoe plans another, leaving his early profits in the care of a friendly widow. The second voyage does not prove as fortunate: the ship is seized by Moorish pirates, and Crusoe is enslaved to a potentate in the North African town of Sallee. While on a fishing expedition, he and a slave boy break free and sail down the African coast. A kindly Portuguese captain picks them up, buys the slave boy from Crusoe, and takes Crusoe to Brazil. In Brazil, Crusoe establishes himself as a plantation owner and soon becomes successful. Eager for slave labor and its economic advantages, he embarks on a slave-gathering expedition to West Africa but ends up shipwrecked off of the coast of Trinidad.
Crusoe soon learns he is the sole survivor of the expedition and seeks shelter and food for himself. He returns to the wreck’s remains twelve times to salvage guns, powder, food, and other items. Onshore, he finds goats he can graze for meat and builds himself a shelter. He erects a cross that he inscribes with the date of his arrival, September 1, 1659, and makes a notch every day in order never to lose track of time. He also keeps a journal of his household activities, noting his attempts to make candles, his lucky discovery of sprouting grain, and his construction of a cellar, among other events. In June 1660, he falls ill and hallucinates that an angel visits, warning him to repent. Drinking tobacco-steeped rum, Crusoe experiences a religious illumination and realizes that God has delivered him from his earlier sins. After recovering, Crusoe makes a survey of the area and discovers he is on an island. He finds a pleasant valley abounding in grapes, where he builds a shady retreat. Crusoe begins to feel more optimistic about being on the island, describing himself as its “king.” He trains a pet parrot, takes a goat as a pet, and develops skills in basket weaving, bread making, and pottery. He cuts down an enormous cedar tree and builds a huge canoe from its trunk, but he discovers that he cannot move it to the sea. After building a smaller boat, he rows around the island but nearly perishes when swept away by a powerful current. Reaching shore, he hears his parrot calling his name and is thankful for being saved once again. He spends several years in peace.
One day Crusoe is shocked to discover a man’s footprint on the beach. He first assumes the footprint is the devil’s, then decides it must belong to one of the cannibals said to live in the region. Terrified, he arms himself and remains on the lookout for cannibals. He also builds an underground cellar in which to herd his goats at night and devises a way to cook underground. One evening he hears gunshots, and the next day he is able to see a ship wrecked on his coast. It is empty when he arrives on the scene to investigate. Crusoe once again thanks Providence for having been saved. Soon afterward, Crusoe discovers that the shore has been strewn with human carnage, apparently the remains of a cannibal feast. He is alarmed and continues to be vigilant. Later Crusoe catches sight of thirty cannibals heading for shore with their victims. One of the victims is killed. Another one, waiting to be slaughtered, suddenly breaks free and runs toward Crusoe’s dwelling. Crusoe protects him, killing one of the pursuers and injuring the other, whom the victim finally kills. Well-armed, Crusoe defeats most of the cannibals onshore. The victim vows total submission to Crusoe in gratitude for his liberation. Crusoe names him Friday, to commemorate the day on which his life was saved, and takes him as his servant.
Finding Friday cheerful and intelligent, Crusoe teaches him some English words and some elementary Christian concepts. Friday, in turn, explains that the cannibals are divided into distinct nations and that they only eat their enemies. Friday also informs Crusoe that the cannibals saved the men from the shipwreck Crusoe witnessed earlier, and that those men, Spaniards, are living nearby. Friday expresses a longing to return to his people, and Crusoe is upset at the prospect of losing Friday. Crusoe then entertains the idea of making contact with the Spaniards, and Friday admits that he would rather die than lose Crusoe. The two build a boat to visit the cannibals’ land together. Before they have a chance to leave, they are surprised by the arrival of twenty-one cannibals in canoes. The cannibals are holding three victims, one of whom is in European dress. Friday and Crusoe kill most of the cannibals and release the European, a Spaniard. Friday is overjoyed to discover that another of the rescued victims is his father. The four men return to Crusoe’s dwelling for food and rest. Crusoe prepares to welcome them into his community permanently. He sends Friday’s father and the Spaniard out in a canoe to explore the nearby land.
Eight days later, the sight of an approaching English ship alarms Friday. Crusoe is suspicious. Friday and Crusoe watch as eleven men take three captives onshore in a boat. Nine of the men explore the land, leaving two to guard the captives. Friday and Crusoe overpower these men and release the captives, one of whom is the captain of the ship, which has been taken in a mutiny. Shouting to the remaining mutineers from different points, Friday and Crusoe confuse and tire the men by making them run from place to place. Eventually they confront the mutineers, telling them that all may escape with their lives except the ringleader. The men surrender. Crusoe and the captain pretend that the island is an imperial territory and that the governor has spared their lives in order to send them all to England to face justice. Keeping five men as hostages, Crusoe sends the other men out to seize the ship. When the ship is brought in, Crusoe nearly faints.
On December 19, 1686, Crusoe boards the ship to return to England. There, he finds his family is deceased except for two sisters. His widow friend has kept Crusoe’s money safe, and after traveling to Lisbon, Crusoe learns from the Portuguese captain that his plantations in Brazil have been highly profitable. He arranges to sell his Brazilian lands. Wary of sea travel, Crusoe attempts to return to England by land but is threatened by bad weather and wild animals in northern Spain. Finally arriving back in England, Crusoe receives word that the sale of his plantations has been completed and that he has made a considerable fortune. After donating a portion to the widow and his sisters, Crusoe is restless and considers returning to Brazil, but he is dissuaded by the thought that he would have to become Catholic. He marries, and his wife dies. Crusoe finally departs for the East Indies as a trader in 1694. He revisits his island, finding that the Spaniards are governing it well and that it has become a prosperous colony.