McFingal [pp. 321-324]

1841.] McFingal. 323
immediately received. The minute particulars of
this process-how he looked-how he rode in
state, in a cart, through the town, amid shouts,
laughter, and music-how he was at length set
down again at the Liberty Pole, and there, in doleful strain to the constable expressed his despondency, and his resolve to let Whiggery have its
way-concluding with the appointment of a meeting to be held that night in his cellar-for all this,
told in verse that would upset the gravity of a
saint, we must refer to the book.
Towards midnight, in great McFingal's cellar,
the principal Tories met in conclave-seated upon
kegs of ale, and cider barrels. Up rose to them,
from a turnip bin, in feathered majesty,-a tear often stealing down his tar-streaked visage,-McFingal himself; and in a long speech addressed them.
He announced his determination to flee the country, and give up the royal cause as hopeless.
What moved him to this was the recent course of
events; but especially a Vision lately presented to
him. In a dream he had seen their friend Malcolm
(a Scotch Tory, notorious for his misdeeds in Carolina) on the gallows, just about to be turned off.
Malcolm had assured him that the cause was desperate-had shown him, by second-sight, all the
disasters of the war: the captures of the Hessians at Trenton; of Burgoyne, and Cornwallis;
the fields of Bennington, Monmouth, Cowpens,
Eutaw;-and had warned him to fly.
Our hero had not ended his narrative of the vision, when an alarm of the Whigs! was given.
They had gotten tidings of the subterranean assemblage; and thundered furiously at the door.
All now was confusion. The light was put out:
the sage deliberators slunk into chests, tubs, or bins,
and behind rows of cabbages; while their great
leader, opening a secret window, stole away.
And so ends the poem.
It is unquestionably, we think, next to Hudibras
among poems of their kind, in wit and drollery.
Nay, were it not confessedly an imitation of that
work in style at least, we should place it above
Hudibras. Considering the two absolutely, without recollecting which is the model and which the
copy; and taking not only wit and droll humor,
but incidents, plan, and morals into account;
McFingal is far the superior. Besides being totally free from obscenity, it breathes a generous
and holy patriotism, a scorn of meanness and cruelty, which are by no means so visible in Hudibras.
Mr. Trumbull is not always jesting; but sometimes
rises to seriousness, and eloquence. The speech
of Honorius, in Canto II., (page 49 of the new
edition), beginning "'Tis well," &c., has passages
adapted to make the blood course fast, and the hair
rise up.
In this work, much more than in Butler's, detached parts fall far short of displaying their full
measure of wits: because they do not strike, and
sometimes are not understood, unless connected
with the adjacent parts. Yet even under this disadvantage, let us exhibit a few passages: and if
the reader shall think them at all witty or humorous, he may be assured that when he takes them
in their proper places, context and all, they will
appear doubly so.
Commencement of the Poem.
'When Yankees, skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manceuvres of parade;
The war-dance of Yankee reels,
And mntanual exercise of heels;
Made them give up like saints complete,
The arm of flesh, and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out by fear and trembling;
Taught Percy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-chases;
From Boston, in his best array,
Great'Squire McFingal took his way;
And graced with ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homeward to his native town.'
The King's gracious treatment of American petitions.
' So once Egyptians at the Nile
Ador'd their guardian crocodile,
Who heard them first with kindest ear,
Then ate them, to reward their prayer;
And could he talk, as kings can do,
Had made as gracious speeches too.'
A Town Meeting.
' High o'er the rout, on pulpit stairs,
Like den of thieves in house of prayers,
That house, which, loth a rule to break,
Serv'd Heav'n but one day in the week,
(Open the rest for all supplies
Of news, and politics, and lies),Stood forth the constable, and bore
His staff, like Merc'ry's wand of yore;
Wav'd potent round, the peace to keep,
As that laid dead men's souls to sleep.
Above, and near th' Hermetic staff,
The Moderator's upper half
In grandeur o'er the cushion bow'd,
Like Sol half seen behind a cloud.
Beneath stood voters of all colors,
Whigs, tories, orators, and bawlers,
With ev'ry tongue, in either faction,
Prepared like minutemen, for action:
Where truth and falsehood, wrong and right,
Draw all their legions out to fight.
With equal uproar, scarcely rave
Opposing winds in Eolus' cave;
Such dialogues, with earnest face,
Held never Balaam with his ass.'
The Retreat from Concord.
' Did not our troops show much discerning
And skill, your various arts in learning?
Outwent they not each native noodle
By far, in playing Yankee-doodle?
Which, as'twas your New-England tune
'Twas marvellous they took so soon:
1841.]
McFingaL
323
I