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chapter 2 of Ma-re Mount: The “Lady of Learning” versus “Elephants of Wit”

The story of Thomas Morton and his peculiar settlement at Ma-re Mount (or Merry Mount) has been told countless times, beginning with two vivid con- temporary accounts: his own in New English Canaan (1637) and that of the stern adversary whom he seems to have dubbed “Radamant” (Rhadamanthys), one of the judges of classical Hades—in plain English, Governor William Brad- ford of Plymouth Plantation.1 Subsequently, Morton’s adventures fascinated such diverse figures as John Adams (whose property in Quincy included the site of Ma-re Mount and who communicated to Thomas Jefferson his excite- ment upon at last laying hands on New English Canaan after a search of half a ­century), (whose tale “The May-Pole of Merry Mount” reflected his preoccupation with his Puritan ancestors’ supposed discomfort with any rich enjoyment of life), and the composer (whose Merry Mount in 1933 brought Morton to the stage of Metropolitan House, from which it was broadcast on national radio the following year).2

1 The scholarly literature on Morton is vast. Specific studies will be noted in subsequent notes. But there are as yet only two books exclusively devoted to Morton: Donald F. Connors’s Thomas Morton and Jack Dempsey’s Thomas Morton of “Merrymount.” Connors’s book pro- vides much sound information and is generally superior to most “Twayne Authors” books of its day. Dempsey’s book (available both separately and as part of his edition of New English Canaan) is a somewhat eccentric work that would have benefitted from better editing than his publisher was able to provide, but his long obsession (perhaps verging on self-identification) with Morton has yielded much useful information and many valid insights. Though his book must be used with caution, it cannot be neglected. Dempsey is also the author of the most easily available and, in recent years, most frequently cited edition and commentary on nec (2000). This, too, needs to be used with caution, and it should be supplemented by consulta- tion of two earlier editions and commentaries: those of Charles Francis Adams, Jr. (1883) and Minor Wallace Major (1957). (I follow Adams in identifying Morton’s “Radamant” as Bradford: 29, n. 1.) All my references to nec will be to the original edition, but Dempsey’s edition indi- cates the pagination of the original in brackets and boldface. 2 The exchange of Adams and Jefferson on Morton’s nec is in Adams-Jefferson Letters, ed. Cap- pon, vol. 2, 311–25. Hawthorne’s “The May-Pole of Merry Mount” was published in Twice-Told Tales (1837). Howard Hanson’s Merry Mount received an elaborate production at the Met, but it did not enter the regular repertoire. A concert version in 2007 by the Symphony, soloists, and chorus, conducted by Gerard Schwartz, eventuated in a recording of the opera,

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Thomas Morton of Ma-re Mount 83

The reception of Morton’s story in the arts has itself been the subject of con- siderable scholarly investigation. His confrontation with the Separatists of Plymouth Plantation and the of Bay has also proved a powerful magnet for historians and literary scholars, often furnishing a vivid demonstration of the ways a single historical figure can inspire a variety of re- sponses, revealing as much about the historical moments and temperaments of the historians as about Morton himself, his friends, his enemies, his time, and his place.3 Notably lacking has been a detailed exploration of the classical dimensions of Morton’s story, despite the centrality of Greco-Roman culture in Morton’s self-conception and self-presentation. This is not to say that scholars have en- tirely ignored classical elements in New English Canaan. That would be virtu- ally impossible if one intends to do justice to this engagingly eccentric text. Too often, however, these elements have been brushed aside or, no less often, em- barrassingly misunderstood. A sustained exploration of Morton’s classical ne- gotiations serves several functions. First, it will perform the useful, if somewhat delicate, task of correcting the specific errors of Americanists whose training in classical languages, literature and culture is, understandably enough, rusty at best and sometimes entirely lacking. More importantly, it can offer a deeper awareness and understanding of the nature and functions of Morton’s classi- cal strategies in what Bradford called his “infamouse and ­scurilous booke.”4 If our investigation incidentally undermines Morton’s implicit pretensions to full citizenship in the early modern “republic of letters,” both the flamboyance and the shakiness of these pretensions deserve a place in a properly nuanced

released by Naxos. Richard Stokes’s for the opera owes more to Hawthorne than to either Bradford or Morton, but it is unhampered by fidelity even to Hawthorne. Morton is reduced to a relatively minor role, and Bradford has been transmogrified into a stern but love-struck Puritan minister named Wrestling Bradford (a role created by the great in the 1933–4 production). The arresting first name comes, of course, from one of the sons of William Brewster. 3 An illuminating study of the reception of Morton’s story in literature is McWilliams, New ’s Crises and Cultural Memory, Ch. 2, “Thomas Morton: Phoenix of Memory,” as well as his earlier article “Fictions of Merry Mount.” See also Sterne, “Puritans at Merry Mount: Variations on a Theme” and Williams, “History in Hawthorne’s ‘The of Merry Mount’.” As we shall have further occasion to note, an analysis of the treatment of Morton in scholarly literature over the centuries could be an interesting case-study in inter- pretive fashions. 4 Bradford, pp, 2:1629, 167; Ford, 2.76; ce, 303: “an infamouse and scurilous booke against many godly and cheefe men of the cuntrie; full of lyes and slanders, and fraight with callumnies against their names and persons, and the ways of God.”