OIiver Herford. [Headpiece for Herford’s poem “The Artful Ant” as it appeared in 1891 in the children’s magazine St. Nicholas, vol. XVIII, no. 4.] Drawing, 1891, Harvard Art Museums.
Once on a time an artful Ant
Resolved to give a ball,
For tho’ in stature she was scant,
She was not what you'd call
A shy or bashful little Ant.
(She was not shy at all.)
She sent her invitations through
The forest far and wide,
To all the Birds and Beasts she knew,
And many more beside.
(“You never know what you can do,”
Said she, “until you 've tried.”)
Five-score acceptances came in
Faster than she could read.
Said she: “Dear me! I’d best begin
To stir myself indeed!”
(A pretty pickle she was in,
With five-score guests to feed!)
The artful Ant sat up all night,
A-thinking o’er and o’er,
How she could make from nothing, quite
Enough to feed five-score.
(Between ourselves I think she might
Have thought of that before.)
She thought, and thought, and thought all night,
And all the following day,
Till suddenly she struck a bright
Idea, which was— (but say!
Just what it was I am not quite
At liberty to say.)
Enough, that when the festal day
Came round, the Ant was seen
To smile in a peculiar way,
As if— (but you may glean
From seeing tragic actors play
The kind of smile I mean.)
From here and there and everywhere
The happy creatures came,
The Fish alone could not be there.
(And they were not to blame.
“They really could not stand the air,
But thanked her just the same.”)
The lion, bowing very low,
Said to the Ant: “I ne’er
Since Noah’s Ark remember so
Delightful an affair.”
(A pretty compliment, although
He really wasn’t there.)
They danced, and danced, and danced, and danced;
It was a jolly sight!
They pranced, and pranced, and pranced, and pranced,
Till it was nearly light!
And then their thoughts to supper chanced
To turn. (As well they might!)
Then said the Ant: “It’s only right
That supper should begin,
And if you will be so polite,
Pray take each other in.”
(The emphasis was very slight,
But rested on “Take in.”)
They needed not a second call,
They took the hint. Oh, —yes,
The largest guest “took in” the small,
The small “took in” the less,
The less “took in” the least of all.
(It was a great success!)
As for the rest—but why spin out
This narrative of woe?—
The Lion took them in about
As fast as they could go.
(And went home looking very stout,
And walking very slow.)
And when the Ant, not long ago,
Lost to all sense of shame,
Tried it again, I chance to know
That not one answer came.
(Save from the Fish, who “could not go,
But thanked her all the same.”)
Antoine-Louis Barye. Lion Sleeping. Watercolor on wove paper, lined, 1810-75, Metropolitan Museum of Art. Public Domain.
HERFORD, OLIVER. “THE ARTFUL ANT,” IN ARTFUL ANTICKS, 4-9. NEW YORK: THE CENTURY CO., 1897.
Contexts
In a Life Magazine issue from November 1894, editor Robert Bridges noted that, in Artful Anticks, “when [Oliver Herford] makes rhymes about a kitten, a dormouse, a spider, or a crocodile, you are absolutely certain that he has put himself on such friendly terms with each animal that he is not only able to reveal the quirks of its mind, but draw a picture of them. That is why grown folks will get as much fun out of this book as children.”
Herford was a well-known poet, humorist writer, and illustrator.
Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:
artful: Skilfully adapted for the accomplishment of a purpose; ingenious, clever. Hence: cunning, crafty, deceitful.
festal: Characteristic of a feast; (hence also) joyous or celebratory in tone; (of a person or group) in a festive or holiday mood.
five-score: Rarely used for “a hundred” (from Shakespeare).
Isaac Sprague. Sweet White Violet. Lithograph, ca. 1876-1882, Digital Commonwealth. Public Domain.
THE PROFESSOR.
Tell me, little violet white,
If you will be so polite,
Tell me how it came that you
Lost your pretty purple hue?[1]
Were you blanched with sudden fears?
Were you bleached with fairies’ tears?
Or was Dame Nature out of blue,
Violet, when she came to you?
THE VIOLET.
Tell me, silly mortal, first,
Ere I satisfy your thirst
For the truth concerning me ¬—
Why you are not like a tree?
Tell me why you move around,
Trying different kinds of ground,
With your funny legs and boots
In the place of proper roots?
Tell me, mortal, why your head,
Where green branches ought to spread,
Is as shiny smooth as glass,
With just a fringe of frosty grass?
Tell me—Why, he’s gone away!
Wonder why he wouldn’t stay?
Can he be—well, I declare! —
Sensitive about his hair?
Original illustration by Oliver Herford from Artful Anticks, p. 58.
HERFORD, OLIVER. “THE PROFESSOR AND THE WHITE VIOLET,” IN ARTFUL ANTICKS, 58-9. NEW YORK: THE CENTURY CO., 1894.
[1] The viola blanda, also known as sweet white violet, is a perennial plant native to North America.
Contexts
In a Life Magazine issue from November 1894, editor Robert Bridges noted that, in Artful Anticks, “when [Oliver Herford] makes rhymes about a kitten, a dormouse, a spider, or a crocodile, you are absolutely certain that he has put himself on such friendly terms with each animal that he is not only able to reveal the quirks of its mind, but draw a picture of them. That is why grown folks will get as much fun out of this book as children.”
Herford was a well-known poet, humorist writer, and illustrator.
Oliver Herford, “The Yak.” Original print accompanying the poem.
This is the Yak, so neg-li-gée:[1]
His coif-fure’s like a stack of hay;
He lives so far from Any-where,
I fear the Yak neg-lects his hair,
And thing, since there is none to see,
What mat-ter how un-kempt he be.
How would he feel if he but know
That in this Pic-ture-book I drew
His Phys-i-go-no-my un-shorn,
For chil-dren to de-ride and scorn?
Herford, Oliver. “The Yak.” A Child’s Primer of Natural History. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1899.xt goes here.
[1] The yak is a type of large ox native to the Tibetan plateau. Himalayan people rely on domesticated yaks for carrying loads.
Contexts
When Herford published his book, natural history was an obsessive subject for children’s writers. Popular magazines like St. Nicholas led the way, creating study groups like the St. Nicholas League and advocacy for bird protection through its Bird Defenders. Exotic animals seemed to particularly fascinate American children. Contributors to St. Nick included prominent scientists like William T. Hornaday, who became the director of the New York Zoological Park (commonly known as the Bronx Zoo), and who founded the National Zoo in Washington, DC; famous naturalist John Burroughs; and Ernest Thompson Seton, founder of the Boy Scouts of America.
Herford’s poems, as well as their accompanying images, presented more fanciful accounts of animals but sometimes offered short natural history lessons. In this case, Herford emphasizes sloths’ upside-down lifestyle. All the poems in this book hyphenate some words, presumably to instruct children—and their parents—how to read.
Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:
coiffure: style or fashion of dressing the hair
deride: to laugh at in contempt or scorn; to mock
negligée (in this context): dressed informally, dressed as if in a nightgown
physiognomy: The study of features of the face . . . or the body generally . . . the art of judging character from such study
unkempt: of hair, a beard: not combed, well-maintained; untidy, scruffy
Oliver Herford, “An Arctic Hare.” Original print accompanying the poem.
An Arc-tic Hare we now be-hold.
The hair, you will ob-serve, is white;[1]
But if you think the Hare is old,
You will be ver-y far from right.
The Hare is young, and yet the hair
Grew white in but a sin-gle night.
When, then it must have been a scare
That turned this Hare. No; ’twas not fright
(Al-though such cases are well known);
I fear that once a-gain you’re wrong.
Know then, that in the Arc-tic Zone
A sin-gle night is six months long.[2]
Herford, Oliver. “An Arctic Hare.” A Child’s Primer of Natural History. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1899.
[1] Arctic hares live in Alaska, northern Canada, and parts of Greenland. They have large rear feet like snowshoes, and their coats turn white in the winter to help them evade predators. Those animals that live in the northernmost part of the species’ range remain white all year.
[2] In the Arctic the sun disappears beneath the horizon for several months, but most places in the zone have a twilight that lasts for many hours. See Rao in Resources.
Contexts
When Herford published his book, natural history was an obsessive subject for children’s writers. Popular magazines like St. Nicholas led the way, creating study groups like the St. Nicholas League and advocacy for bird protection through its Bird Defenders. Exotic or unfamiliar animals seemed to particularly fascinate American children. Contributors to St. Nick included prominent scientists like William T. Hornaday, who became the director of the New York Zoological Park (commonly known as the Bronx Zoo), and who founded the National Zoo in Washington, DC; famous naturalist John Burroughs; and Ernest Thompson Seton, founder of the Boy Scouts of America.
Herford’s poems, as well as their accompanying images, presented more fanciful accounts of animals but sometimes offered short natural history lessons. In this case, Herford foregrounds the hares’ native habitat, with its very short winter nights (although he exaggerates the duration of darkness). All the poems in this book hyphenate some words, presumably to instruct children—and their parents—how to read.
The video “Arctic Hare” (by Wildlife All About) shows the hares in their natural habitat and gives information about the animals’ characteristics, behaviors, and challenges.
The WWF (World Wildlife Fund) has a symbolic adoption program that helps raise funds to protect the arctic hare.
Oliver Herford, “The Sloth.” Original print accompanying the poem.
The Sloth en-joys a life of Ease;[1]
He hangs in-vert-ed from the trees,
And views life up-side down.
If you, my child, are noth-ing loath
To live in In-dol-ence and Sloth,
Un-heed-ing the World’s frown,
You, too, un-vexed by Toil and Strife,
May take a hu-mor-ous view of life.
Herford, Oliver. “The Sloth.” A Child’s Primer of Natural History. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1899.
[1] Sloths are tree-dwelling animals from Central and South America. They are the slowest moving animals on Earth.
Contexts
When Herford published his book, natural history was an obsessive subject for children’s writers. Popular magazines like St. Nicholas led the way, creating study groups like the St. Nicholas League and advocacy for bird protection through its Bird Defenders. Exotic animals seemed to particularly fascinate American children. Contributors to St. Nick included prominent scientists like William T. Hornaday, who became the director of the New York Zoological Park (commonly known as the Bronx Zoo), and who founded the National Zoo in Washington, DC; famous naturalist John Burroughs; and Ernest Thompson Seton, founder of the Boy Scouts of America.
Herford’s poems, as well as their accompanying images, presented more fanciful accounts of animals but sometimes offered short natural history lessons. In this case, Herford emphasizes sloths’ upside-down lifestyle. All the poems in this book hyphenate some words, presumably to instruct children—and their parents—how to read.
“The Extreme Life of a Sloth.” Science Insider. This short video has fascinating facts about the animal, including why it travels from trees to the ground only once a week.
Oliver Herford, “The Giraffe.” Original print accompanying the poem.
See the Gi-raffe; he is so tall
There is not room to get him all
U-pon the page. His head is high-er—
The pic-ture proves it—than the Spire.[1]
That’s why the na-tives,[2] when they race
To catch him, call it stee-ple-chase.[3]
His chief de-light it is to set
A good example: shine or wet
He rises ere the break of day,
And starts his break-fast right away.
His food has such a way to go,—
His throat’s so very long,—and so
An early break-fast he must munch
To get it down ere time for lunch.
Herford, Oliver. “The Giraffe.” A Child’s Primer of Natural History. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1899.
[1] Their steeples made churches the tallest buildings in most U.S. towns and many cities.
[2] Giraffes are native to the grasslands and open woodlands of Africa. See Contexts and Resources below for more detail.
[3] A steeplechase is a horse race across country with jumps and other obstacles, but Herford imagines the giraffe as a steeple.
Contexts
The late nineteenth century began the period known as The New Imperialism, in which Western European nations took control, and used the resources, of nearly the whole continent. This poem’s speaker distinguishes his European perspective by using the word “native.”
When Herford published his book, natural history was an obsessive subject for children’s writers. Popular magazines like St. Nicholas led the way, creating study groups like the St. Nicholas League and advocacy for bird protection through its Bird Defenders. Exotic animals seemed to particularly fascinate American children. Contributors to St. Nick included prominent scientists like William T. Hornaday, who became the director of the New York Zoological Park (commonly known as the Bronx Zoo), and who founded the National Zoo in Washington, DC; famous naturalist John Burroughs; and Ernest Thompson Seton, founder of the Boy Scouts of America.
Herford’s poems, as well as their accompanying images, presented more fanciful accounts of animals but sometimes offered small natural history lessons. In this case, Herford underscores the time it takes giraffes to swallow and digest food and water. All the poems in this book hyphenate some words, presumably to instruct children—and their parents—how to read.
Kilcup, Karen L. Stronger, Truer, Bolder: American Children’s Writing, Nature, and the Environment. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2021. See chapter 4, esp. 271-74, for information about the St. Nicolas contributors mentioned above.
Hans Andersen Brendekilde, Wooded Path in Autumn. Oil painting, c. 1902. Public Domain.
The near sky, the under sky,
The low sky that I love!
I lie where fallen leaves lie,
With a leafy sky above;
And draw the colored leaves nigh,
And push the withered leaves by,
And feel the woodland heart upon me
brooding like a dove.
The bright sky, the shifting sky,
The sky that Autumn weaves!
I see where scarlet leaves fly
The sky the wind bereaves;
I see the ling’ring leaves die,
I hear the dying leaves sigh,
And breathe the woodland breath made
sweet of all her withered leaves.
Based in Boston, the long-lived Youth’s Companion was at one time among America’s most popular children’s magazines. Famous writers such as Harriet Beecher Stowe, Mark Twain, Kate Chopin, Jack London, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Emily Dickinson, and Booker T. Washington all published in its well-thumbed pages. Among its avid readers was a young Robert Frost. It helped popularize The Pledge of Allegiance, publishing it in its September 8, 1892 issue.
Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary
nigh: near
bereaves: to rob; to deprive of anything valued; to leave destitute, orphaned, or widowed [here, by implication, to sadden]
Chris [last name unknown]. “The Youth’s Companion.” This blog has numerous issues, with pictures. The most recent blog pages feature the 1920s.
Pflieger, Pat. “Youth’s Companion (1827-1929).” Nineteenth-Century American Children and What They Read.
“The Youth’s Companion.” The Online Books Page. University of Pennsylvania. You can read other selections from the magazine here through HathiTrust (the interface is not particularly user-friendly).
Contemporary Connections
Readers today still value what original readers often called “The Companion.” See Vintage American Ways (a site with some errors, including the magazine’s dates).
Cornelis Saftleven. A Lion Snarling. Black and red chalk and black and brown washes, 1625-1633, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles. Public domain.
Ay, I am here—Monsieur Dessalines, the freedman; made so by his own hand and proclamation. If it suit thy quaking spirit better I am thy master’s escaped slave. Take me if thou darest! Hiding place my castle is on the mountains, where dwells no will save mine, and no slave dare breathe the air and refuse to be a man.
Good Dessalines, you say? Good slave! I remember when first I was sent to the master to receive from his lips my first instruction in the art of making self, in all things, subservient to the master’s will. On entrance to his presence, in meek and humble tones I showed my aptitude for the first lesson in slavish servitude. This must have pleased the good man, for next he tried to instill in me that God expected of the slave obedience to the master’s will. From sundry books he had at hand he read to me; and all he read impressed me with the thought that the gods from the beginning had ordained one race to serve, the other to rule. My people were of the race to serve; his people of the race to rule. Desiring to see how far this mockery went I asked to be taught a prayer whereby I could free my soul from guilt of insolence and hatred to the whites. He directed me to say a prayer, which after him I repeated, and called on all the saints and angels of his faith to witness I was an obdurate, worthless sinner. Again did he seek to impress me with the thought I must learn to love my masters. Then threw I the mask aside.[1] I told him I hated the masters and their gods! I told him the African’s gods taught revenge for wrongs, hatred for hatred, and death for death. On this he threatened me with chastisement, torment and the church’s most fruitful curses. He dared to call me a pagan dog! Dost know what then I did? I plucked him by his unholy beard, threw him to the ground and spurned him as I would some snarling, fangless cur.
God have mercy on me? Thou, too, art a doler out of superstitious cant—an humble worshipper of thy master’s household gods. I have none, I know none, and owe allegiance only to my kind. A race enslaved ’tis true, but not all of us are only fit to be in spirit as thy master hath made thee. Teach the slave if he disobey he receives the lash. ‘Tis is reason, for thy corporal frame is captive; but to command the mind to worship at an altar where the sacrifice of liberty and manhood occur each day is as tyrannical as useless. Minds are not made captive with slavery chains, nor are men’s souls made for barter and trade.
What has made me master here? What will make ye masters here? Look upon us! I am as black as the shadows of night, with muscles of iron and a will that was never enslaved! What has he that I have not save the arrogance of the accursed Caucasian blood? What have these Franks that we are their household chattels–that we are their beasts? They suffer from the heat more than we, their sight is less keen, the evening dews hasten them to their graves and the noonday’s sun finds them under cover. The very fibres[2] of their frames are weak and puny, and, as the gods allotted labor for the part of man, they must depend on us to carry out the law. What fetich[3] have they that sustains their power to rule and ours to serve? We are ten to one their number now in Haiti—perhaps an hundred it may be. Then is it the strong who rules, or is it the natural sequence of our own inward weakness? Have ye mothers, sisters or laughing babes that ye can call your own?
Were ye always slaves and your sires, too? And must it follow that ye must always be?
Listen! When but a stripling in my native land I was wont to hunt the great king of the jungles whose roar is like the distant thunder, and whose bite is death. One day, with five companions, armed with spears and shields, I penetrated a dense undergrowth and suddenly confronted a lioness and her mate. On seeing us they gave forth terrific roars in defiance of our arms and numbers. All unprepared for the meeting, my companions were affrighted and would have fled had I not called on them to halt—as flight meant a fearful death—and to charge upon the foe. We charged upon them, and though they were wounded, they were not disabled, and only made more fierce and desperate. Then there ensued such a battle! The spears were torn from our hand. Three of my companions with their entrails protruding from their tortured abdomens were still in death upon the ground. The brutes’ terrific roar and fearful carnage drove terror to our hearts, and routed, we ran ingloriously from the scene. What would I teach thee from this tale? The same lesson I have learned: That wavering is cowardly and desperation makes men brave; that the arms of the oppressors, however great in number, cannot prevail with the desperation of the lion at bay. The masters are wavering like the tall palmetto in the storm’s angry blast. Let us but be brave and the shackles now upon your limbs will be turned to anklets of gold and precious stones taken from the bodies of these Frankish dogs. If you will be brutes be lions!
Louis Rigaud. Jean Jacques Dessalines. Oil Painting, 1878, Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.
EASTON, WILLIAM EDGAR. “DESSALINES,” IN THE DUNBAR SPEAKER AND ENTERTAINER, ED. ALICE MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON, 100-02. NAPERVILLE, ILL: J. L. NICHOLS & CO., 1920.
[1] Paul Laurence Dunbar’s famous poem “We Wear the Mask” was first published in 1896, three years after Dessalines.
[2] Fibre: Alternate spelling of fiber.
[3] Fetich: Archaic spelling of fetish.
Contexts
The Dunbar Speaker and Entertainer‘s dedication reads: “To the children of the race which is herein celebrated, this book is dedicated, that they may read and learn about their own people.” In the foreword, Leslie Pinckney Hill, an African American educator, writer, and community leader who graduated from Harvard University in 1903, criticizes the one-sidedness of prevailing reading courses: “In vain may you search their pages—those pages upon which all our reading has been founded—for anything other than a patronizing view of that vast, brooding world of colored folk—yellow, black and brown—which comprises by far the largest portion of the human family.” Hill further writes that Alice Dunbar-Nelson’s book seeks to prove “that the white man has no fine quality, either by heart or mind, which is not shared by his black brother.”
Jean-Jacques Dessalines was a leader of the 1804 Haitian Revolution. The text included in The Dunbar Speaker is a modified excerpt from Easton’s 1893 historical drama Dessalines. Without other characters’ interventions (as they appear in the original play) this adaptation becomes a monologue.
Definitions from Oxford English Dictionary:
affrighted: Frightened, terrified.
freedmen: A man who was a slave but has now been given his freedom; an emancipated (male) slave.
Resources for Further Study
In “Jean-Jacques Dessalines: Demon, Demigod, and Everything in Between,” Lindsay J. Twa analyzes contradictory representations of Dessalines’ controversial legacy. She notes that twentieth-century African American writers reached for this Haitian historical figure as part of their rhetorical efforts to instill racial pride and represent black heroic accomplishment.
Easton himself, in the preface to Dessalines, admits that he favors romance over history in his fictionalization of Dessalines’ story, and asks readers to given him credit for “seeking . . . to teach the truth, that ‘minds are not made captive by slavery’s chains, not were men’s souls made for barter and trade.’”
Language cannot express the awful ire of William the Testy[3] on hearing of the catastrophe at Fort Goed Hoop[4]. For three good hours his rage was too great for words, or rather the words were too great for him (being a very small man), and he was nearly choked by the misshapen, nine-cornered[5] Dutch oaths and epithets which crowded at one into his gullet. At length his words found vent, and for three days he kept up a constant discharge, anathematising the Yankees, man, woman, and child, for a set of dieven, schobbejacken, deugenieten, twist-zoekeren, blaes-kakken, loosen-schalken, kakken-bedden,[6] and a thousand other names, of which, unfortunately for posterity, history does not make mention. Finally, he swore that he would have nothing more to do with such a squatting, bundling, guessing, questioning, swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shingle-splitting, cider-watering, horse-jockeying, notion-peddling crew—that they might stay at Fort Goed Hoop and rot, before he would dirty his hands by attempting to drive them away; in proof of which he ordered the new-raised troops to be marched forthwith into winter quarters, although it was not as yet quite midsummer. Great despondency now fell upon the city of New Amsterdam.[7] It was feared that the conquerors of Fort Goed Hoop, flushed with victory and apple-brandy, might march on to the capital, take it by storm, and annex the whole province to Connecticut. The name of Yankee became as terrible among the Nieuw Nederlanders[8] as was that of Gaul among the ancient Romans, insomuch that the good wives of the Manhattoes used it as a bugbear[9] wherewith to frighten their unruly children.
Everybody clamored round the governor, imploring him to put the city in a complete posture of defence, and he listened to their clamors. Nobody could accuse William the Testy of being idle in time of danger, or at any other time. He was never idle, but then he was often busy to very little purpose. When a youngling he had been impressed with the words of Solomon, “Go to the ant, thou sluggard, observe her ways and be wise,”[10] in conformity to which he had ever been of a restless, ant-like turn; hurrying hither and thither, nobody knew why or wherefore, busying himself about small matters with an air of great importance and anxiety, and toiling at a grain of mustard-seed in the full conviction that he was moving a mountain. In the present instance he called in all his inventive powers to his aid, and was continually pondering over plans, making diagrams, and worrying about with a troop of workmen and projectors at his heels. At length, after a world of consultation and contrivance, his plans of defence ended in rearing a great flag-staff in the center of the fort, and perching a windmill on each bastion.
These warlike preparations in some measure allayed the public alarm, especially after an additional means of securing the safety of the city had been suggested by the governor’s lady. It has already been hinted in this most authentic history that in the domestic establishment of William the Testy “the grey mare was the better horse;” in other words, that his wife “ruled the roast,” and, in governing the governor, governed the province, which might thus be said to be under petticoat government.
Now it came to pass that this time there lived in the Manhattoes a jolly, robustious trumpeter, named Anthony Van Corlear, famous for his long wind; and who, as the story goes, could twang so potently upon his instrument that the effect upon all within hearing was like that ascribed to the Scotch bagpipe when it sings right lustily i’ the nose.
This sounder of brass was moreover a lusty[11] bachelor, with a pleasant, burly visage, a long nose, and huge whiskers. He had his little bowery, or retreat in the country, where he led a roystering life, giving dances to the wives and daughters of the burghers of the Manhattoes, insomuch that he became a prodigious favorite with all the women, young and old. He is said to have been the first to collect that famous toll levied on the fair sex at Kissing Bridge,[12] on the highway to Hell-gate.[13]
To this sturdy bachelor the eyes of all the women were turned in this time of darkness and peril, as the very man to second and carry out the plans of defence of the governor. A kind of petticoat council was forthwith held at the government house, at which the governor’s lady presided: and this lady, as has been hinted, being all potent with the governor, the result of these councils was the elevation of Anthony the Trumpeter to the post of commandant of windmills and champion of New Amsterdam.
The city being thus fortified and garrisoned, it would have done one’s heart good to see the governor snapping his fingers and fidgeting with delight, as the trumpeter strutted up and down the ramparts twanging defiance to the whole Yankee race, as does a modern editor to all the principalities and powers on the other side of the Atlantic. In the hands of Anthony Van Corlear this windy instrument appeared to him as potent as the horn of the paladin Astolpho,[14] or even the more classic horn of Alecto;[15] nay, he had almost the temerity to compare it with the rams’ horns celebrated in Holy Writ, at the very sound of which the walls of Jericho fell down.[16]
Be all this as it may, the apprehensions of hostilities from the east gradually died away. The Yankees made no further invasion; nay, they declared they had only taken possession of Fort Goed Hoop as being erected within their territories. So far from manifesting hostility, they continued to throng to New Amsterdam with the most innocent countenances imaginable, filling the market with their notions, being as ready to trade with the Netherlands as ever, and not a whit more prone[17] to get to the windward of them in a bargain.
The old wives of the Manhattoes who took tea with the governor’s lady attributed all this affected moderation to the awe inspired by the military preparations of the governor, and the windy prowess of Anthony the Trumpeter.
“Anthony’s Nose” from Myths and Legends of Our Own Land[18]
The Hudson Highlands are suggestively named Bear Mountain, Sugar Loaf, Cro’ Nest, Storm King, called by the Dutch Boterberg, or Butter Hill, from its likeness to a pat of butter; Beacon Hill, where the fires blazed to tell the country that the Revolutionary war was over; Dunderberg, Mount Taurus, so called because a wild bull that had terrorized the Highlands was chased out of his haunts on this height, and was killed by falling from a cliff on an eminence to the northward, known, in consequence, as Breakneck Hill. These, with Anthony’s Nose, are the principal points of interest in the lovely and impressive panorama that unfolds before the view as the boats fly onward.[19]
Concerning the last-named elevation, the aquiline[20] promontory that abuts on the Hudson opposite Dunderberg, it takes title from no resemblance to the human feature, but is so named because Anthony Van Corlaer, the trumpeter, who afterwards left a reason for calling the upper boundary of Manhattan Island Spuyten Duyvil Creek, killed the first sturgeon[21] ever eaten at the foot of this mountain. It happened in this wise: By assiduous devotion to keg and flagon Anthony had begotten a nose that was the wonder and admiration of all who knew it, for its size was prodigious; in color it rivalled the carbuncle, and it shone like polished copper.[22] As Anthony was lounging over the quarter of Peter Stuyvesant’s galley one summer morning this nose caught a ray from the sun and reflected it hissing into the water, where it killed a sturgeon that was rising beside the vessel. The fish was pulled aboard, eaten, and declared good, though the singed place savored of brimstone, and in commemoration of the event Stuyvesant dubbed the mountain that rose above his vessel Anthony’s Nose.
“Why Spuyten Duyvil is so Named” from Myths and Legends of Our Own Land[18]
The tide-water creek that forms the upper boundary of Manhattan Island is known to dwellers in tenements round about as “Spittin’ Divvle.” The proper name of it is Spuyten Duyvil, and this, in turn, is the compression of a celebrated boast by Anthony Van Corlaer. This redoubtable gentleman, famous for fat, long wind, and long whiskers, was trumpeter for the garrison at New Amsterdam, which his countrymen had just bought for twenty-four dollars, and he sounded the brass so sturdily that in the fight between the Dutch and Indians at the Dey Street peach orchard[23] his blasts struck more terror into the red men’s hearts than did the matchlocks of his comrades. William the Testy vowed that Anthony and his trumpet were garrison enough for all Manhattan Island, for he argued that no regiment of Yankees would approach near enough to be struck with lasting deafness, as must have happened if they came when Anthony was awake.
Peter Stuyvesant-Peter the Headstrong[24]—showed his appreciation of Anthony’s worth by making him his esquire,[25] and when he got news of an English expedition on its way to seize his unoffending colony, he at once ordered Anthony to rouse the villages along the Hudson with a trumpet call to war. The esquire took a hurried leave of six or eight ladies, each of whom delighted to believe that his affections were lavished on her alone, and bravely started northward, his trumpet hanging on one side, a stone bottle, much heavier, depending from the other. It was a stormy evening when he arrived at the upper end of the island, and there was no ferryman in sight, so, after fuming up and down the shore, he swallowed a mighty draught of Dutch courage,[26]—for he was as accomplished a performer on the horn[27] as on the trumpet,—and swore with ornate and voluminous oaths that he would swim the stream “in spite of the devil” [En spuyt den Duyvil].
He plunged in, and had gone half-way across when the Evil One, not to be spited, appeared as a huge moss-bunker,[28] vomiting boiling water and lashing a fiery tail. This dreadful fish seized Anthony by the leg; but the trumpeter was game, for, raising his instrument to his lips, he exhaled his last breath through it in a defiant blast that rang through the woods for miles and made the devil himself let go for a moment. Then he was dragged below, his nose shining through the water more and more faintly, until, at last, all sight of him was lost. The failure of his mission resulted in the downfall of the Dutch in America, for, soon after, the English won a bloodless victory, and St. George’s cross[29] flaunted from the ramparts where Anthony had so often saluted the setting sun. But it was years, even then, before he was hushed, for in stormy weather it was claimed that the shrill of his trumpet could be heard near the creek that he had named, sounding above the deeper roar of the blast.
[6] These words are all Dutch (or pseudo-Dutch in the case of “loosen” to mean loose) and they mean ‘thieves’, ‘scum’, ‘rascals’, ‘twist-seeking’ (up to chicanery), ‘bladders’, ‘loose rogues’, and either ‘people who poop in their beds’ or ‘people who have poop for beds’, respectively.
[7] modern-day New York City. (OED)
[8] Dutch name for people who lived in the “New Netherlands”, portions of present day New England.
[9] an object of fear or dread. a boogieman. (OED)
[12] The bridge here mentioned by Mr. Knickerbocker still exists; but it is said that the toll is seldom collected nowadays excepting on sleighing parties, by the descendants of the patriarchs, who still preserve the traditions of the city. (Irving)
There are at least two structures known as “Kissing Bridge” in New York City. (Justo, Patrick D. “Libidinous New York.” New York, vol. 39, no. 6, Feb 20, 2006, pp. 16.)
[13] Hell Gate is a bridge in New York City that spans the east river between Randal’s Island and Brooklyn, near Riker’s Island.
[18] Myths and Legends of Our Own Land is an anthology of American myths and folklore, including excerpts from the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Washington Irving, as well as records, histories, newspapers, magazines, and oral narrative.
[22] Rhinophyma, Greek for ‘nose growth’ is a symptom of advanced rosacea. Known as ‘alcoholic’s nose’ it was once believed to be caused by drinking.
[23] The ‘Peach War‘ is mentioned in The Knickerbocker’s History, though Anthony Van Corlaer is not mentioned in that version of the tale.
[24] Peter Stuyvesant (1592-1672) was the last director-general of all Dutch possessions in the Caribbean and North America. In August 1664, he was forced to surrender the colony of New Netherlands to the English.
[29] A red cross on a white background, the cross consisting of an upright and a horizontal bar crossing each other in the center; a flag bearing this cross; frequently as a symbol of England or Englishness. (OED)
Contexts
While it is unclear if Anthony Van Corlaer was a real person, Spuyten Duyvil is a real place. It is a neighborhood of the Bronks, south of Riverdale and north of Harlem. Van Corlaer is widely believed to be the source of this name by New Yorkers, though, aside from the stories above, there is very little evidence of his existence.
These stories tie in with so many literary modes and tools, as well as historical events that they are a goldmine for teachers. The mythological allusions in Knickerbockers History, pairing Spyuten Duyvil and “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” (1979) by the Charlie Daniels Band, and the historical aspects of Dutch colonies or shark attacks in the United States would each make solid lesson plans on their own.
Contemporary Connections
In 2002, Ed Boland Jr. mentioned Anthony Van Corlaer as the source of the name Spuyten Duyvil in his New York Times question and answer columnF.Y.I.
Edward Hicks, The Peaceable Kingdom, 1833, oil on canvas. Worcester Art Museum, 1934.65.
When the all-wise God created animals, and some of them for the use of man, it is not to be believed that he intended creatures of the highest degree of intelligence to be cruel to those so much inferior in understanding and so helpless. When men fight, it is considered cowardice for one to strike another when he is down. (Gentlemen never fight, they reason the matter to an understanding and settlement.) But man will strike poor dumb animals, who are all the time down in helplessness. A gentleman never does this wrong to his honor, for he knows there are other ways of doing. Man would soon weary of the many heavy burdens, or sink under them, if he and not the horse had to bear them. There would be few journeys made, and where would be the delightful rides and sleighing were there no horses? In some countries men transport great loads of freight upon their backs, and how strange it looks to us, even in pictures.
Cows are generally timid creatures, and, in a certain way, the best of animals. How many good things to eat would be lacking if we had no milk! Nothing in the vegetable kingdom would answer the purpose. The cow, then, should at all times be regarded as our benefactress as much as man is hers, and should receive our kindest treatment. What would the children do without bread and milk? How some folks would miss ice-cream in the summer-time! And then such frolics as the children have in the country with bossy’s calf.
But aside from our own ideas and pleasure on the subject, we have a Master who is the friend of all dumb creatures, and some day we and they will meet Him and have to listen to what will be said.
In the Bible it is written: “And at His coming all flesh shall speak, and the trees shall clap their leaves for joy.”[1] All flesh includes animals, birds, and every other living thing. How will some persons feel in the day of judgment when the dumb creatures they have beaten or half starved rise up before them and bear witness against them? The Creator is just, he will hear the helpless, and he will not say, “Your cause is just, but I can do nothing for you;” no, those cruel hearts will have to meet their reward.
It seems to me that a person who will take two peaceable dogs and worry them into a cruel fight, is not even of so good a spirit as the dogs themselves. It is strange that human intelligence can stoop to such a level, no, beneath the level of the brute creation.
Cruelty to animals is receiving a large share of attention in some cities, and laws to protect these dumb creatures and punish their cruel masters, have been enacted. There is an association[2] which publishes a good paper called Our Dumb Animals, and it is a good one for everyone, old and young, to read. Many thousands of children are joining it by letter. Its object is to teach kindness, and thus the law become natural and universal. Many beautiful stories are related, and they desire to learn all they can of such in the experience of their new members.
In a certain kingdom, Norway, I am told that if a man beats his horse cruelly, or overloads it, or drives it too fast, he is brought before the proper officers of the law and fined. If the offense is repeated, he is fined and imprisoned, and on the third offense these penalties are again imposed and the animal taken from him. But in that country it is seldom that cruelty is exercised, for it is hard for the poor to earn a living, and a horse or a cow is regarded as riches, and these creatures are generally treated with all the kindness they need. Sheep are also very kindly treated, for the nice long wool will some day be transferred from its own place into the family’s use.
I have even seen a bed-spread made from cow’s hair, and it was a handsome one, too. I knew. a young girl who told me: “In my country I was poor and could not afford to keep a pet hen, even, times were so hard. Now I keep sixty. I am rich.” This girl made a good use of her income, and in two years’ profits of her industry, emigrated a lone relative, who now unites with her in the same business. These good women saw much among us Americans that looked to them like waste. A friend once remarked: “These foreigners use what we would waste, and sell what we would use, and that is why they prosper where we do not get ahead.” I once saw a Swede currying[3] his horse and observed that he carefully saved the hair in a box. As a dear friend of mine says, “ I haven’t got a particle of inquisitiveness, but my ‘want to know ‘ is very large,” so I asked him why he did that. He told me that he was going to add a room to his house before long, and would use this in the plaster instead of throwing it away and buying more. Then he patted his horse and praised its shining coat and ended by thanking Blackbird for the contribution.
Cocheron, Augusta Joyce. 1890.”Dumb Creatures” In The children’s book; a collection of short stories and poems. A mormon book for Mormon Children, 164-167. Utah: Bountiful Davis Co.
[1] “For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace: the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands” (Isa. 55:12 KJV).
[2] The association Cocheron refers to here is the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, which started publishing issues of Our Dumb Animals in 1868 under the guidance of George T. Angell. The magazine’s motto was, “We Speak For Those Who Cannot Speak For Themselves.”
[3] A curry or curry comb is a horse grooming brush that removes shedding hair, dead skin, and sweat from the horse’s body.
Contexts
In the original Preface of A Mormon Book for Mormon Children., Augusta Joyce Crocheron wrote the following:
A Little Talk with the Children,
The thought came into my mind, Write a book for the children; and while I listened, it became a desire and a pleasant one, for I would dearly love to become the household friend of many little children who are growing up within the homes of the Saints.
If they are willing to listen, I will tell them a few true stories, not fairy ones, indeed, of which little ones are so fond, so fascinating, but, alas! so false. No, these must be true.
Many pleasant hours have I spent in story-telling, and surely my pleasure was as great as theirs; stories to sleepy eyes, out in the summer moonlight on the veranda, with great patches of flowers faintly showing in the shadows of wide branches, and night-birds singing over us; story-telling on rainy afternoons, or by roaring hearth—light; at home and abroad—how many listeners there have been. But I must not tell you what I have read, as I did those little hearers, it must be some things that I have known. If I could only show to my little friends of the present time, the sweet faces remembered looking anxiously into mine, it would be the best part of the book; those—no story could equal.
Would that I could make these, also, my friends, as the authors I so loved were mine.
And, if I should ever travel from home, as some of the Sisters do, to visit the associations, I would be happy to have you tell me, if we meet, if anything written herein has pleased you.
Pleasant smiles and kind words from good hearts are some times worth more than silver and gold.
This book is the fulfillment of a wish expressed by President Brigham Young a short time before his death, and in conclusion he said, “Who will write a book for the children?”
To attempt this was in my power, but it required means to publish, and this I could not do alone. Two good Brethren, who think more of the youth of our people than they do of riches, were kind enough to lend me the use of what was needed to accomplish the object.
When you read this book, I want you in your hearts to thank Bishop Jacob Weiler, of Third Ward, Salt Lake City, and Elder Alwood Brown, of Centreville, Davis County, and ask our Heavenly Father to bless and prosper them long upon the earth, and may their names beheld by you in pure and lasting remembrance.
Augusta Joyce Crocheron
Bountiful, Davis County, Utah,September 3, 1890
Resources for Further Study
Angell, George T. 1868-1951. Our Dumb Animals. Boston: Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/006069414.
Davis, Janet M. 2016. The Gospel of Kindness : Animal Welfare and the Making of Modern America. Oxford: Oxford University Press. DOI:10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199733156.001.0001.
Finsen, Lawrence, and Susan Finsen. 1994. The Animal Rights Movement in America : From Compassion to Respect. Social Movements Past and Present. New York: Twayne.
Linzey, Andrew, and Clair Linzey, eds. 2018. The Routledge Handbook of Religion and Animal Ethics. Routledge Handbooks in Religion Ser. Milton: Routledge. https://doi-org.libproxy.uncg.edu/10.4324/9780429489846.
Pedagogy
Several animal welfare and animal rights organizations and activists have excellent online humane education materials for teaching children about the importance of treating their fellow animals with respect. Listed below are just a few of many such resources:
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