ALTHOUGH most of the historians of American literature have acknowledged that humor is abundant in the writings of our authors, and that this humor is distinctive and characteristic, having a quality of its own, easy enough to perceive, even if difficult to define, no one of these historians has as yet cared to consider at length the American contribution to that form of humor which we call the satire in verse.
In each of the three main divisions of this interesting department of literature—in the genial satire of society, of which Horace set the example; in the broader and bolder satire of contemporary politics, of which Juvenal has left the unapproachable model; and in the more personal and purely literary satire, of which Boileau and Pope have been accepted as masters,—in each of these three contiguous fields of literary endeavor American authors have adventured themselves with varying success.
It is in the satire of society, glancing wittily at the men and the manners and the morals of the hour, that our American versifiers have advanced least frequently. Yet even in this form of satire the last half of the nineteenth century saw the publication of the late William Allen Butler's "Nothing to Wear," of Mr. Stedman's brisk and brilliant "Diamond Wedding," of Judge Grant's ingenious "Little Tin Gods on Wheels," and of the adroitly rhymed "Buntling Ball," generally ascribed to Mr. Edgar Fawcett. And in the first half of the century Halleck and Drake printed in a New York evening paper the series of lively lyrics which came to be known as the "Croaker Papers"—the collaborating authors having chosen to sign their brisk rhymes with the name of a character in Goldsmith's Good-natured Man. Unfortunately for the fame of the associated bards, their themes were only local and of little lasting importance, so that it is almost impossible to copy here any of their clever verses without an apparatus of notes explaining the allusions.
A few years after the "Croaker Papers" had astonished and delighted all New York there was published at least one formal satire of society, prepared in full acceptance of all the precedents which govern a metrical attack on the follies and on the vices of the moment. This is "Gotham and the Gothamites. A Medley. New York, 1823."
Perhaps it is among the social rather than among the literary satires that we must include "The Trollopiad; or, Travelling Gentlemen in America. A satire. By Nil Admirari, Esq. New York, 1837." This indignant effusion was evoked by the swift succession of British books of travel in America—Mrs. Trollope's volumes, Captain Hall's account of his wanderings, and the Journal of Miss Fanny Kemble—books now happily as little read as this metrical retort upon them. Perhaps the most quotable passage in this rather labored set of couplets is that in which the British visitor is brought face to face with the mightiest of our natural wonders:
Arriv'd, at last, Niagara to scan,
He walks erect and feels himself a man;
Surveys the cataract with a "critic's eye,"
Resolv'd to pass no "imperfections by."
Niag'ra, wonder of the Deity,
Where God's own spirit reigns in majesty.
With sullen roar the foaming billows sweep,
A world of waters thunders o'er the steep:
The unmingled colors laugh upon the spray,
And one eternal rainbow gilds the day.
Oh! glorious God! Oh! scene surpassing all!
"True, true," quoth he, "'tis something of a fall."
Now, shall unpunish'd such a vagrant band,
Pour like the plagues of Egypt on the land,
