Chapter I: MUST now return to Albany, and to the projected expedition (1)

General Abercrombie, who commanded on the northern lakes, was a brave and able man, though rather too much attached to the military schools of those days. To accommodate himself to the desultory and uncertain warfare of the woods, where sagacity, ready presence of mind, joined with the utmost caution, and a condescension of opinion to our Indian allies, was of infinitely more consequence than rules and tactics, which were mere shackles and incumbrances in this contention, with difficulties and perplexities more harassing than mere danger. Indeed, when an ambuscade or sudden onset was followed by defeat here, (as in Braddock’s case,) the result reminded one of the route of Absalom’s army; where, we are told, the wood devoured more than the sword. The general was a frequent guest with madame, when the nature of his command would permit him to relax from the duties that occupied him. He had his men encamped below Albany, in that great field which I have formerly described, as the common pasture for the town. Many of the officers were quartered in the fort and town; but Lord Howe always lay in his tent, with the regiment which he commanded; and which he modelled in such a manner, that they were ever after considered as an example to the whole American army, who gloried in adopting all those rigid, yet salutary regulations, to which this young hero readily submitted, to enforce his commands by example.

Above the pedantry of holding up standards of military rules, where it was impossible to practise them, and the narrow spirit of preferring the modes of his own country, to those proved by experience, to suit that in which he was to act, Lord Howe laid aside all pride and prejudice, and gratefully accepted counsel from those whom he knew to be best qualified to direct him. Madame was delighted with the calm steadiness with which he carried through the austere rules which he found it necessary to lay down. In the first place, he forbade all displays of gold and scarlet, in the rugged march they were about to undertake, and set the example by wearing himself an ammunition coat, that is to say, one of the surplus soldier’s coats cut short. This was a necessary precaution, because in the woods, the hostile Indians, who started from behind the trees, usually caught at the long and heavy skirts then worn by the soldiers; and for the same reason he ordered the muskets to be shortened, that they might not, as on former occasions, be snatched from behind by these agile foes. To prevent the march of his regiment from being descried at a distance by the glittering of their arms, the barrels of their guns were all blackened; and to save them from the tearing of bushes, the stings of insects, &c. he set them the example of wearing leggins, a kind of buskin, made of strong woollen cloth, formerly described as a part of the Indian dress. The greatest privation to the young and vain yet remained. Hair well dressed, and in great quantity, was then considered as the greatest possible ornament, which those who had it took the utmost care to display to advantage, and to wear in a bag or queue, which ever they fancied. Lord Howe’s was fine and very abundant; he, however, cropped it, and ordered every one else to do the same. Every morning he rose very early, and, after giving his orders, rode out to the Flats, breakfasted, and spent some time in conversation with his friends there; and when in Albany, received all manner of useful information from the worthy magistrate, Cornelius Cuyler. Another point which this young Lycurgus of the camp wished to establish, was that of not carrying any thing that was not absolutely necessary. An apparatus of tables, chairs and such other luggage, he thought highly absurd, where people had to force their way with unspeakable difficulty, to encounter an enemy free from all such encumbrances. The French had long learnt how little convenience could be studied on such occasions as the present.

When his lordship got matters arranged to his satisfaction, he invited his officers to dine with him in his tent. They gladly assembled at the hour appointed, but were surprised to see no chairs or tables; there were, however, bear-skins spread like a carpet. His lordship welcomed them, and sat down on a small log of wood; they followed his example, and presently the servants set down a large dish of pork and pease. His lordship, taking a sheath from his pocket, out of which he produced a knife and fork, began to cut and divide the meat. They sat in a kind of awkward suspense, which he interrupted, by asking if it were possible that soldiers like them, who had been so long destined for such a service, should not be provided with portable implements of this kind? and finally relieved them from their embarrassment, by distributing to each a case the same as his own, which he had provided for the purpose. The austere regulations, and constant self-denial which he imposed upon the troops he commanded, were patiently borne, because he was not only gentle in his manners, but generous and humane in a very high degree, and exceedingly attentive to the health and real necessities of the soldiery. Among many instances of this, a quantity of powdered ginger was given to every man; and the sergeants were ordered to see, that when, in the course of marching, the soldiers arrived hot and tired at the banks of any stream, they should not be permitted to stoop to drink, as they generally inclined to do, but obliged to lift water in their canteens, and mix ginger with it. This became afterwards a general practice; and in those aguish swamps, through which the troops were forced to march, was the means of saving many lives. Aunt Schuyler, as this amiable young officer familiarly styled his maternal friend, had the utmost esteem for him; and the greatest hope that he would, at some future period, redress all those evils that had formerly impeded the service, and, perhaps, plant the British standard on the walls of Quebec. But this honour another young hero was destined to achieve; whose virtues were to be illustrated by the splendour of victory, the only light by which the multitude can see the merits of a soldier.

The Schuylers regarded this expedition with a mixture of doubt and dismay, knowing too well, from the sad retrospect of former failures, how little valour and discipline availed where regular troops had to encounter unseen foes, and with difficulties arising from the nature of the ground, for which military science afforded no remedy. Of General Abercrombie’s worth and valour they had the highest opinion; but they had no opinion of attacking an enemy so subtle and experienced on their own ground, in entrenchments, and this they feared he would have the temerity to attempt. In the meantime preparations were making for the attempt. The troops were marched in detachments past the Flats, and each detachment quartered for a night on the common, or in the offices. One of the first of these was commanded by Lee, of frantic celebrity, who afterwards, in the American war, joined the opponents of government, and was then a captain in the British service. Captain Lee had neglected to bring the customary warrants for impressing horses and oxen, and procuring a supply of various necessaries, to be paid for by the agents of government on showing the usual documents; he, however, seized every thing he wanted where he could most readily find it, as if he were in a conquered country; and not content with this violence, poured forth a volley of execrations on those who presumed to question his right of appropriating for his troops every thing that could be serviceable to them: even madame, accustomed to universal respect, and to be considered as the friend and benefactress of the army, was not spared; and the aids which she never failed to bestow on those whom she saw about to expose their lives for the general defence, were rudely demanded, or violently seized. Never did the genuine christianity of this exalted character shine more brightly than in this exigency; her countenance never altered, and she used every argument to restrain the rage of her domestics, and the clamour of her neighbours, who were treated in the same manner. Lee marched on after having done all the mischief in his power, and was the next day succeeded by Lord Howe, who was indignant on hearing what had happened, and astonished at the calmness with which madame bore the treatment she had received. She soothed him by telling him, that she knew too well the value of protection from a danger so imminent, to grow captious with her deliverers on account of a single instance of irregularity, and only regretted that they should have deprived her of her wonted pleasure, in freely bestowing whatever could advance the service, or refresh the exhausted troops. They had a long and very serious conversation that night. In the morning his lordship proposed setting out very early; but when he rose was astonished to find madame waiting, and breakfast ready: he smiled and said he would not disappoint her, as it was hard to say when he might again breakfast with a lady. Impressed with an unaccountable degree of concern about the fate of the enterprise in which he was embarked, she again repeated her counsels and her cautions; and when he was about to depart, embraced him with the affection of a mother, and shed many tears, a weakness which she did not often give way to.

Meantime, the best prepared and disciplined body of forces that had ever been assembled in America, were proceeding on an enterprise, that, to the experience and sagacity of the Schuylers, appeared a hopeless, or, at least a very desperate one. A general gloom overspread the family; this, at all times large, was now augmented by several of the relations both of the colonel and madame, who had visited them at that time, to be nearer the scene of action, and get the readiest and most authentic intelligence; for the apprehended consequence of a defeat was, the pouring in of the French troops into the interior of the province; in which case Albany might be abandoned to the enraged savages attending the French army.

In the afternoon a man was seen coming on horseback from the north, galloping violently, without his hat. Pedrom, as he was familiarly called, the colonel’s only surviving brother, was with her, and ran instantly to inquire, well knowing he rode express. The man galloped on, crying out that Lord Howe was killed. The mind of our good aunt had been so engrossed by her anxiety and fears for the event impending, and so impressed by the merit and magnanimity of her favourite hero, that her wonted firmness sunk under this stroke, and she broke out into bitter lamentations. This had such an effect on her friends and domestics, that shrieks and sobs of anguish echoed through every part of the house. Even those who were too young or too old to enter into the public calamity, were affected by the violent grief of aunt, who, in general, had too much self-command to let others witness her sorrows.—Lord Howe was shot from behind a tree, probably by some Indian; and the whole army were inconsolable for a loss they too well knew to be irreparable. This stroke, however, they soon found to be “portent and pain, a menace and a blow;” but this dark prospect was cheered for a moment by a deceitful gleam of hope, which only added to the bitterness of disappointment.

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CHAP. XLI.

Total Defeat at Ticonderoga—General Lee—Humanity of Madame.

THE next day they heard the particulars of the skirmish, for it could scarcely be called a regular engagement, which had proved fatal to the young warrior, whose loss was so deeply felt. The army had crossed lake George in safety, on the 5th of July, and landed without opposition. They proceeded in four columns to Ticonderoga, and displayed a spectacle unprecedented in the New World. An army of sixteen thousand men, regulars and provincials, with a train of artillery, with all the necessary provisions for an active campaign or regular siege, followed by a little fleet of bateaux, pontons, &c. They set out wrong however, by not having Indian guides, who are alone to be depended on in such a place. In a short time the columns fell in upon each other, and occasioned much confusion. While they marched on in this bewildered manner, the advanced guard of the French, which had retired before them, were equally bewildered, and falling in with them in this confusion, a skirmish ensued, in which the French lost above three hundred men, and we, though successful, lost as much as it was possible to lose, in one; for here it was that Lord Howe fell.

The fort is a situation of peculiarly natural strength; it lies on a little peninsula, with lake George on one side, and a narrow opening, communicating with lake Champlain, on the other. It is surrounded by water on three sides; and in front there is a swamp, very easily defended: and where it ceased the French had made a breast-work above eight feet high; not content with this, they had felled immense trees on the spot, and laid them heaped on each other, with their branches outward, before their works. In fine, there was no place on earth where aggression was so difficult, and defence so easy, as in these woods; especially when, as in this case, the party to be attacked had great leisure to prepare their defence. On this impenetrable front they had also a line of cannon mounted; while the difficulty of bringing artillery through this swampy ground, near enough to bear upon the place, was very great. This garrison, almost impregnable from situation, was defended by between four and five thousand men. An engineer, sent to reconnoitre, was of opinion that it might be attacked without waiting for the artillery. The fatal resolution was taken without consulting those best qualified to judge. An Indian or native American were here better skilled in the nature of the ground, and probabilities of success. They knew better, in short, what the spade, hatchet, or musket, could or could not do, in such situations, than the most skilful veteran from Europe, however replete with military science. Indeed when system usurps the province of plain sound sense in unknown exigencies, the result is seldom favourable; and this truth was never more fatally demonstrated than in the course of the American war, where an obstinate adherence to regular tactics, which do not bend to time or place, occasioned, from first to last, an incalculable waste of blood, of treasure, and of personal courage. The resolution then was to attack the enemy without loss of time, and even without waiting for artillery. Alas! “what have not Britons dared?”

I cannot enter into the dreadful detail of what followed; certainly never was infatuation equal to this. The forty-second regiment was then in the height of deserved reputation; in which there was not a private man that did not consider himself as rather above the lower class of people, and peculiarly bound to support the honour of the very singular corps to which he belonged. This brave hard-fated regiment was then commanded by a veteran of great experience and military skill, Colonel Gordon Graham, who had the first point of attack assigned to him; he was wounded at the first onset. How many this regiment, in particular, lost of men and officers, I cannot now exactly say; but there were very many. What I distinctly remember, having often heard of it since, is, that, of the survivors, every officer retired wounded off the field. Of the fifty-fifth regiment, to which my father had newly been attached, ten officers were killed, including all the field officers. No human beings could show more determined courage than this brave army did. Standing four hours under a constant discharge of cannon and musketry from barricades, on which it was impossible for them to make the least impression, General Abercrombie saw the fruitless waste of blood that was every hour increasing, and ordered a retreat, which was very precipitate, so much so, that they crossed the lake, and regained their camp on the other side, the same night. Two thousand men were killed, wounded, or taken, on this disastrous day. On the next, those most dangerously wounded were sent forward in boats, and reached the Flats before evening; they in a manner brought (at least confirmed) the news of the defeat. Madame had her barn instantly fitted up into a temporary hospital, and a room in her house allotted for the surgeon who attended the patients: among these was Lee, the same insolent and rapacious Lee, who had insulted this general benefactress, and deprived her of one of her greatest pleasures, that of giving a share of every thing she had to advance the service. She treated him with compassion, without adverting, by the least hint, to the past. She tore up her sheets and table linen for bandages; and she and her nieces were constantly employed in attending and cheering the wounded, while all her domestics were busied in preparing food and every thing necessary for those unhappy sufferers. Even Lee felt and acknowledged the resistless force of such generous humanity. He swore, in his vehement manner, that he was sure there would be a place reserved for madame in heaven, though no other woman should be there, and that he should wish for nothing better than to share her final destiny. The active, industrious beneficence she exercised at this time, not only towards the wounded, but the wretched widows and orphans who had remained here, and had lost their all in their husbands and parents, was beyond praise. Could I clearly recollect and arrange the anecdotes of this period, as I have often heard them, they would of themselves fill a volume; suffice it, that such was the veneration in which she was held in the army after this period, that I recollect, among the earliest impressions received in my mind, that of a profound reverence for madame, as these people were wont to call her. Before I ever saw her, I used to think of her as a most august personage, of a majestic presence; sitting on an elevated seat, and scattering bounty to wounded soldiers, and poor women and children.

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CHAP. XLII.

The Family of Madame’s Sister—The Death of the latter.

AUNT found consolation for all her sorrows in the family of her favourite sister. The promise of uncommon merit, which appeared in the rising branches of that singularly fine family, was to her a peculiar gratification; for no mother could love her own children more tenderly than she did them. The two daughters, which were amongst the eldest, passed, by turns, much of their time with her, and were, from their beauty and their manners, the ornaments of her society; while their good sense, ripened by being called early into action, made these amiable and elegant young women more a comfort and assistance than a care or charge to their aunt, at a very early period. They had four brothers; three of whom are still living, and have, through life, done honour by their virtues, their manners, and their conduct, in the most trying exigencies, to the memory and example of their excellent parents, as well as to that collateral school of pure morality, and sound and genuine policy, of which they shared the benefit.

The history of this family, in the after vicissitudes in which the political changes in their country involved them, would furnish a very interesting detail, were it allowable to offend the delicacy of modest worth, or eligible to expose the depravity and fury of enraged factions. Of the brothers I shall only mention, that the third, in his childhood, showed uncommon fire and vivacity; not seeming to retain the smallest portion of that hereditary phlegm which could still be easily traced through many of the settlers of this peculiar colony. He could scarce be called an unlucky boy, for he never did harm designedly; yet he was so volatile, eccentric, and original, in the frolicksome excursions of his fancy, that many ludicrous and some serious consequences resulted from them. He showed, however, amidst all these gaieties, from a very early age, a steady and determined predilection towards a military life, which, in due time, was indulged, and has been since the means of leading him onto rank and distinction in the British service.[17] Of the eldest brother I shall have occasion to speak hereafter; the second and youngest were zealous partisans of government at the time of the revolution. Their loyalty occasioned the loss of their fortunes and their homes; but their worth and bravery procured them confidence and important commands in that painful service which was carried on during the American war, at the end of which they were partially rewarded by grants of land in Upper Canada. Loyalty and courage seems hereditary in this family. Many sons of those expatriated brothers are now serving their country in different parts of the empire, undeterred by the losses and sufferings of their parents in the royal cause. It was a marked distinction of character to be observed in the conduct of aunt’s protégéses, that though she was equally attached to the children of her husband’s relations and her own, these latter only adopted her political sentiments, with a single exception, which shall be mentioned in its place.

Footnote 17:

The capture of Tobago was achieved by General C—r, who has for near
forty years been engaged in the most active and hazardous departments
of the service.

The defeat at Ticonderoga bore very hard upon the mind of madame; public spirit was always an active principle in her strong and reflecting mind; and from the particular circumstances in which she had always been involved, her patriotism gained strength by exercise. The same ardent concern for the public good, which could produce no other effect but fruitless anxiety, would be as unavailing as unnecessary, in our secure and tranquil state; but with her it was an exercised and useful virtue. Her attachment to the British nation, which was to the very last a ruling principle both of her actions and opinions, contributed to embitter this blow to her and her family. The taking of Frontinac on the western lakes, and the reestablishment of our power in that important quarter, were achieved by General Bradstreet, whom Abercrombie dispatched at the head of three thousand provincials. This was a cordial much wanted by all, and more particularly gratifying to the family at the Flats, as the colonel’s nephew, Philip Schuyler, though his was not exactly a warlike department, had evinced much spirit, prudence, and resolution, during that expedition; in which, without publicly arrogating command, he, under Bradstreet (who was indeed a very able man) directed most of the operations. In the mind of this extraordinary person, qualities, suited to all occasions, lay dormant and unsuspected, till called forth by the varying events of his busy, though not bustling life; for he seemed to carry on the plans, public and private, which he executed with superior ability and success, by mere volition. No one ever saw him appear hurried, embarrassed, or agitated. The success of this expedition, and the rising distinction of her nephew Philip, was some consolation to madame for the late disaster, still friendly and hospitable, she was as kindly disposed towards the British as ever, and as indefatigable in promoting a good understanding between them and the natives; but the army was now on a larger scale. It was in a manner regularly organized, and more independent of such aid as individuals could bestow; and the many children educated by her, or left orphans to her care, became from their number, their marriages, and various pursuits, objects of more earnest solicitude.

At this period Aunt Schuyler, now every where spoken of by that affectionate designation, met with a severe affliction in the death of a sister, whom she had always loved with more than common tenderness, and whose family she considered in a manner as her own. This was Mrs. Cuyler, the wife of that able and upright magistrate, Cornelius Cuyler, of whose family I have just been giving some account. Mrs. Cuyler, with a character more gentle and retiring, possessed the good sense and benevolence for which aunt was distinguished, though her sphere of action being entirely within the limits of her own family, she could not be so well known, or so much celebrated. The colonel had always had a great attachment to this valuable person; which still more endeared her to his widow. She however always found new duties resulting from her afflictions, so that she could not afford to sink under them. She now was at pains to console her sister’s husband, who really seemed borne down by this stroke; and the exertions she made for the good of his singularly promising family, kept her mind occupied.

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CHAP. XLIII.

Further Successes of the British Arms—A Missionary—Cortland
Schuyler.

THE conquest of Oswego, which was this year (1759) retaken from the French by General Bradstreet, contributed to revive the drooping spirits of the army and the patriots; and it was quickly succeeded by the dear-bought conquest of Quebec. Though madame had never seen General Wolfe, she shared the general admiration of his heroism, and the general sorrow for his loss, in a very high degree. She, too, was conscious that the security and tranquillity purchased by the conquest of Quebec, would, in a manner, loosen the bonds which held the colonists attached to a government which they only endured while they required its protection. This led to consequences which she too clearly foresaw.

The mind of Mrs. Schuyler, which had been greatly agitated by the sad events at Ticonderoga, now began, in consequence of the late successes, to become more composed, and to turn itself to objects of utility, as formerly. What she had done, and made others do for the orphans and widows that had become such in consequence of the attack on the lines, could scarce be credited. No one would suppose a moderate fortune, like hers, could possibly be equal to it. She had at this time too much satisfaction in seeing the respective churches (in all which she was deeply interested) filled with persons who did honour to their profession. A young clergyman named Westerloe, succeeded Domine Freylinghausen, after an interval of three or four years, during which the charge was irregularly filled. This young man had learning, talent, and urbanity; he had all the sanctity of life and animated eloquence of his predecessor, without his love of power, his bustling turn, or his eagerness for popularity; he was, indeed, a person of very singular merit, but studious and secluded, and unwilling to mix with strangers. To madame, however, he was open and companionable, and knew and valued the attractions of her conversation. Dr. Ogilvie was the English Episcopal minister, who, under the name of Indian missionary, and with a salary allowed him as such, had the charge of performing duty in a church erected for that purpose in town, to strangers, and such of the military as chose to attend. The Christian Indians, who were her particular charge, lived at too great a distance to benefit by his labours. The province, however, allowed a salary to a zealous preacher, who laboured among them with apostolic fervour, and with the same disregard to the things of this world. Dr. Ogilvie was highly respected, and indeed much beloved by all who were capable of appreciating his merit. His appearance was singularly prepossessing: his address and manners entirely those of a gentleman. His abilities were respectable, his doctrine was pure and scriptural, and his life exemplary, both as a clergyman and in his domestic circle, where he was peculiarly amiable; add to all this a talent for conversation, extensive reading, and a thorough knowledge of life. The Doctor was indeed a man after madame’s own heart: and she never ceased regretting his departure to New-York, where he was settled two years after. For Stuart[18] she had the utmost veneration. Perfectly calculated for his austere and uncourtly duties, he was wholly devoted to them, and scarce cast a look back to that world which he had forsaken. Yet he was, on various accounts, highly valued by madame; for since the appointment of the superintendent, and more particularly since the death of the colonel, he became more important to her, as the link which held her to the Mohawks, whom she now saw so much more seldom, but always continued to love. The comprehension of her mind was so great, and her desire for knowledge so strong, that she found much entertainment in tracing the unfoldings of the human mind in its native state, and the gradual progress of intellect when enlightened by the gentle influence of pure religion; and this good _father of the deserts_ gratified her more by the details he was enabled to give of the progress of devotion and of mind among his beloved little flock, than he could have done by all that learning or knowledge of the world can bestow. Again the Flats began to be the resort of the best society. She had also her nephews in succession; one, a brother of that Philip so often mentioned, since better known to the world by the appellation of General Schuyler, had been long about the family. He was a youth distinguished for the gracefulness of his person, and the symmetry of his features. He was a perfect model of manly beauty, though almost as dark as an Indian. Indeed, both in looks and character, he greatly resembled the aborigines of the country. He seemed perfectly unconscious of the extraordinary personal advantages which he possessed; was brave, honourable, and possessed a very good understanding, but collected within himself; silent, yet eloquent when he chose to interest himself, or was warmed by the occasion; and had such stainless probity, that every one respected and trusted him. Yet he was so very indifferent to the ordinary pleasures and pursuits of life, and so entirely devoted to the sports of the field, that when his aunt afterwards procured, him a commission in a marching regiment, hoping thus to tame and brighten him, he was known in Ireland by the name of the handsome savage. This title did not belong to him in the sense we most often use it; for his manners were not rude or harsh in the least, though an air of cold austerity, which shaded his fine countenance, with his delight in solitary amusements, led the gay and social inhabitants of the country in which he resided, to consider him as unwillingly rescued from his native forests. This youth was named Cortland, and will be more particularly mentioned hereafter. That eccentric and frolicsome boy, whose humorous sallies and playful flights were a continual source of amusement, was also a frequent guest, but did not stay so long as his elder brother, who certainly was, of all aunt’s adopted, the greatest favourite, and became more endeared to her, from being less successful in life than the rest of his family.

Footnote 18:

A pious missionary in the Mohawk country.

In a council held between their relations and madame, it was decided that both Cortlandt and Cornelius should try their fortune in arms. Cortlandt was made an ensign in an old regiment, and went over to Ireland. Cornelius, a year after, got a commission in the fifty-fifth, then commanded by that singularly worthy and benevolent character, Sir Adolphus Oughton. The mayor was highly respected for his wisdom; yet his purchasing a commission for so mere a boy, and laying out for it a sum of money which appeared large in a country where people contrived to do very well with wonderfully little of that article, astonished all his countrymen. Conscious, however, of his son’s military genius, and well knowing that the vivacity that filled his grave kinsman with apprehension, was merely a lambent flame of youthful gaiety, which would blaze without scorching, he fearlessly launched him into a profession in which he hoped to see him attain merited distinction; while the excellent patroness of all these young people had the satisfaction of seeing every one brought up under her auspices, (and, by this time, they were not a few,) do honour to her instructions, and fill up their different stations in a manner the most creditable and prosperous; and she was often surrounded by the children of those who had engaged her earliest cares.

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CHAP. XLIV.

Burning of the house at the Flats—Madame’s removal—Journey
of the author.

IT was at this time, when she was in the very acme of her reputation, and her name never mentioned without some added epithet of respect or affection, that her house, so long the receptacle of all that was good or intelligent, and the asylum of all that was helpless and unfortunate, was entirely consumed before her eyes.

In the summer of this year, as General Bradstreet was riding by the Flats one day, and proposing to call on madame, he saw her sitting in a great chair, under the little avenue of cherry-trees that led from her house to the road. All the way as he approached, he saw smoke, and at last flames, bursting out from the top of her house. He was afraid to alarm her suddenly; but when he told her, she heard it with the utmost composure; pointed out the likeliest means to check the fire; and ordered the neighbours to be summoned, and the most valuable goods first removed, without ever attempting to go over the house herself, when she knew she could be of no service; but with the most admirable presence of mind, she sat still with a placid countenance, regulating and ordering every thing in the most judicious manner, and with as much composure as if she had nothing to lose. When evening came, of that once happy mansion not a single beam was left, and the scorched brick walls were all that remained to mark where it had stood.

Madame could not be said to be left without a dwelling, having a house in Albany rather larger than the one thus destroyed. But she was fondly attached to the spot which had been the scene of so much felicity, and rendered more dear to her by retaining within its bounds the remains of her beloved partner. She removed to Pedrom’s house for the night. The news of what had happened spread every where; and she had the comfort of knowing, in consequence of this misfortune, better than she could by any other means, how great a degree of public esteem and private gratitude she had excited. The next day people came from all quarters to condole, and ask her directions where and how she would choose to have another house built: and in a few days the ground was covered with bricks, timber, and other materials, brought there by her friends in voluntary kindness. It is to be observed, that the people in the interior of New-York, were so exceedingly skilful in the use, not only of the axe, but all ordinary tools used in planing and joining timber, that, with the aid of a regular carpenter or two to carry on the nicer parts of the work, a man could build an ordinary house, if it were a wooden one, with very little more than his own domestics. It can scarce be credited that this house, begun in August, was ready for aunt’s reception against winter, which here begins very early. But General Bradstreet had sent some of the king’s workmen, considering them as employed for the public service, while carrying on this building. The most unpleasant circumstance about this new dwelling was, the melancholy hiatus which appeared in front, where the former large house had stood, and where the deep and spacious cellars still yawned in gloomy desolation. Madame, who no longer studied appearances, but merely thought of a temporary accommodation for a life which neither she nor any one expected to be a long one, ordered a broad wooden bridge, like those we see over rivers. This bridge was furnished with seats like a portico, and this, with the high walls of the burnt house, which were a kind of screen before the new one, gave the whole the appearance of some ancient ruin.

Madame did not find the winter pass comfortably. That road, now that matters were regularly settled, was no longer the constant resort of her military friends. Her favourite nieces were too engaging, and too much admired, to leave room to expect they should remain with her. She found her house comparatively cold and inconvenient, and the winter long and comfortless. She could not now easily go the distance to church. Pedrom, that affectionate and respected brother, was now, by increasing deafness, disqualified from being a companion; and sister Susan, infirm and cheerless, was now, for the most part, confined to her chamber. Under these circumstances, she was at length prevailed on to remove to Albany. The Flats she gave in lease to Pedrom’s son Stephen. The house and surrounding grounds were let to an Irish gentleman, who came over to America to begin a new course of life, after spending his fortune in fashionable dissipation. On coming to America, he found that there was an intermediate state of hardship and self-denial to be encountered, before he could enter on that fancied Arcadia which he thought was to be found in every wood. He settled his family in this temporary dwelling, while he went to traverse the provinces in search of some unforfeited Eden, where the rose had no thorn, and the course of ceaseless labour had not begun to operate. Madame found reason to be highly satisfied with the change. She had mills which supplied her with bread; her slaves cut and brought home fire-wood; she had a good garden and fruit, and every other rural dainty came to her in the greatest abundance. All her former protégés and friends, in different quarters, delighted to send their tribute; and this was merely an interchange of kindness.

Soon after this removal, her eldest niece, a remarkably fine young woman, was married to Mr. C. of C. manor, which was accounted one of the best matches, or rather the very best in the province. She was distinguished by a figure of uncommon grace and dignity, a noble and expressive countenance, and a mind such as her appearance led one to expect. This very respectable person is, I believe, still living, after witnessing, among her dearest connections, scenes the most distressing, and changes the most painful. She has ever conducted herself, so as to do honour to the excellent examples of her mother and aunt, and to be a pattern of steadfast truth and generous friendship, in exigencies the most trying. Her younger sister, equally admired, though possessing a different style of beauty, more soft and debonair, with the fairest complexion, and most cheerful simplicity of aspect, was the peculiar favourite of her aunt, above all that ever she took charge of; she, too, was soon after married to that highly esteemed patriot, the late Isaac L., revered through the whole continent for his sound good sense and genuine public spirit. He was, indeed, “happily tempered, mild, and firm;” and was finally the victim of steadfast loyalty.

It now remains to say how the writer of these pages became so well acquainted with the subject of these memoirs.

My father was, at this time, a subaltern in the fifty-fifth regiment. That body of men were then stationed at Oswego; but during the busy and warlike period I have been describing, my mother and I were boarded, in the country below Albany, with the most worthy people imaginable, with whom we ever after kept up a cordial friendship. My father, wishing to see his family, was indulged with permission, and at the same time ordered to take the command of an additional company, who were to come up, and to purchase for the regiment all the stores they should require for the winter, which proved a most extensive commission. In the month of October he set out on this journey, or voyage rather, in which it was settled that my mother and I should accompany him. We were, I believe, the first females, above the very lowest ranks, who had ever penetrated so far into this remote wilderness. Certainly never was joy greater than that which lulled my childish mind on setting out on this journey. I had before seen little of my father, and the most I knew of him was from the solicitude I had heard expressed on his account, and the fear of his death after every battle. I was, indeed, a little ashamed of having a military father, brought up, as I had mostly been, in a Dutch family, and speaking that language as fluently as my own; yet, on the other hand, I had felt so awkward at seeing all my companions have fathers to talk and complain to, while I had none, that I thought, upon the whole, it was a very good thing to have a father of any kind. The scarlet coat, which I had been taught to consider as the symbol of wickedness, disgusted me in some degree; but then, to my great comfort, I found my father did not swear; and again, to my unspeakable delight, that he prayed. A soldier pray! was it possible? and should I really see my father in heaven! How transporting! By a sudden revolution of opinion, I now thought my father the most charming of all beings; and the overflowings of my good will reached to the whole company, because they wore the same colour, and seemed to respect and obey him. I dearly loved idleness, too, and the more, because my mother, who delighted in needle-work, confined me too much to it. What joys were mine! to be idle for a fortnight, seeing new woods, rivers, and animals, every day; even then the love of nature was, in my young bosom, a passion productive of incessant delight. I had, too, a primer, two hymns, and a ballad, and these I read over and over with great diligence. At intervals, my attention was agreeably engaged by the details the soldiers gave my father of their manner of living and fighting in the woods, &c. and with these the praises of madame were often mingled. I thought of her continually; every great thing I heard about her, even her size, had its impression. She became the heroine of my childish imagination; and I thought of her as something both awful and admirable. We had the surgeon of the regiment, and another officer with us; they talked, too, of madame, of Indians, of battles, and of ancient history. Sitting from morning to night musing in the boat, contemplating my father, who appeared to me a hero and a saint, and thinking of aunt Schuyler, who filled up my whole mind with the grandeur with which my fancy had invested her; and then having my imagination continually amused with the variety of noble wild scenes which the beautiful banks of the Mohawk afforded, I am convinced I thought more in that fortnight, that is to say, acquired more ideas, and took more lasting impressions, than ever I did, in the same space of time, in my life. This, however foreign it may appear to my subject, I mention, as so far connecting with it, that it accounts, in some measure, for that development of thought which led me to take such ready and strong impressions from aunt’s conversation, when afterwards I knew her.

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CHAP. XLV.

Continuation of the Journey—Arrival at Oswego—Regulations, Studies,
and Amusements there.

NEVER, certainly, was a journey so replete with felicity. I luxuriated in idleness and novelty; knowledge was my delight, and it was now pouring in on my mind from all sides. What a change from sitting pinned down to my sampler by my mother till the hour of play, and then running wild with children, as young, and still simpler than myself. Much attended to by all my fellow-travellers, I was absolutely intoxicated with the charms of novelty, and the sense of my new-found importance. The first day we came to Schenectady, a little town, situated in a rich and beautiful spot, and partly supported by the Indian trade. The next day we embarked, proceeded up the river with six bateaux, and came early in the evening to one of the most charming scenes imaginable, where fort Hendrick was built; so called, in compliment to the principal Sachem, or king of the Mohawks. The castle of this primitive monarch stood at a little distance, on a rising ground, surrounded by pallisades. He resided, at the time, in a house which the public workmen, who had lately built this fort, had been ordered to erect for him in the vicinity. We did not fail to wait upon his majesty: who, not choosing to depart too much from the customs of his ancestors, had not permitted divisions of apartments, or modern furniture to profane his new dwelling. It had the appearance of a good barn, and was divided across by a mat hung in the middle. King Hendrick, who had indeed a very princely figure, and a countenance that would have not dishonoured royalty, was sitting on the floor beside a large heap of wheat, surrounded with baskets of dried berries of different kinds; beside him, his son, a very pretty boy, somewhat older than myself, was caressing a foal, which was unceremoniously introduced into the royal residence. A laced hat, a fine saddle and pistols, gifts of his good brother the great king, were hung round on the cross beams. He was splendidly arrayed in a coat of pale blue, trimmed with silver; all the rest of his dress was of the fashion of his own nation, and highly embellished with beads and other ornaments. All this suited my taste exceedingly, and was level to my comprehension. I was prepared to admire King Hendrick by hearing him described as a generous warrior, terrible to his enemies, and kind to his friends; the character of all others calculated to make the deepest impression on ignorant innocence, in a country where infants learned the horrors of war from its vicinity. Add to all this, that the monarch smiled, clapped my head, and ordered me a little basket, very pretty, and filled by the officious kindness of his son, with dried berries. Never did princely gifts, or the smiles of royalty, produce more ardent admiration and profound gratitude. I went out of the royal presence overawed and delighted, and am not sure but that I have liked kings all my life the better for this happy specimen, to which I was so early introduced. Had I seen royalty, properly such, invested with all the pomp of European magnificence, I should possibly have been confused and over-dazzled. But this was quite enough, and not too much for me; and I went away, lost in a reverie, and thought of nothing but kings, battles, and generals for days after.

This journey, charming my romantic imagination by its very delays and difficulties, was such a source of interest and novelty to me, that above all things I dreaded its conclusion, which I well knew would be succeeded by long tasks and close confinement. Happily for me we soon entered upon Wood-creek, the most desirable of all places for a traveller who loves to linger, if such another traveller there be. This is a small river, which winds irregularly through a deep and narrow valley of the most lavish fertility. The depth and richness of the soil here was evinced by the loftiness and the nature of the trees, which were, hiccory, butter-nut, chestnut, and sycamores of vast circumference as well as height. These became so top heavy, and their roots were so often undermined by this insidious stream, that in every tempestuous night, some giants of the grove fell prostrate, and very frequently across the stream, where they lay in all their pomp of foliage, like a leafy bridge, unwithered, and formed an obstacle almost invincible to all navigation. The Indian lifted his slight canoe, and carried it past the tree; but our deep loaded bateaux could not be so managed. Here my orthodoxy was shocked, and my anti-military prejudices revived by the swearing of the soldiers; but then again my veneration for my father was if possible increased, by his lectures against swearing provoked by their transgression. Nothing remained for our heroes but to attack these sylvan giants axe in hand, and make way through their divided bodies. The assault upon fallen greatness was unanimous and unmerciful, but the resistance was tough, and the process tedious; so much so, that we were three days proceeding fourteen miles, having, at every two hours at least, a new tree to cut through.

It was here, as far as I recollect the history of my own heart, that the first idea of artifice ever entered my mind. It was, like most female artifices, the offspring of vanity. These delays were a new source of pleasure to me. It was October; the trees we had to cut through were often loaded with nuts, and while I ran lightly along the branches, to fill my royal basket with their spoils, which I had great pleasure in distributing, I met with multitudes of fellow plunderers in the squirrels of various colours and sizes, which were numberless. This made my excursions amusing; but when I found my disappearance excited alarm, they assumed more interest. It was so fine to sit quietly among the branches, and hear concern and solicitude expressed about the child.

I will spare the reader the fatigue of accompanying our little fleet through

“Antres vast and deserts wild;”

only observing, that the munificent solitude through which we travelled was much relieved by the sight of Johnson hall, beautifully situated in a plain by the river; while Johnson castle, a few miles further up, made a most respectable appearance on a commanding eminence at some distance.

We travelled from one fort to another; but in three or four instances, to my great joy, they were so remote from each other, that we found it necessary to encamp at night on the bank of the river. This, in a land of profound solitude, where wolves, foxes, and bears abounded, and were very much inclined to consider and treat us as intruders, might seem dismal to wiser folks. But I was so gratified by the bustle and agitation produced by our measures of defence, and actuated by the love which all children have for mischief that is not fatal, that I enjoyed our night encampments exceedingly. We stopped early wherever we saw the largest and most combustible kind of trees. Cedars were great favourites, and the first work was to fell and pile upon each other an incredible number, stretched lengthwise, while every one who could was busied in gathering withered branches of pine, &c. to fill up the interstices of the pile, and make the green wood burn the faster. Then a train of gunpowder was laid along to give fire to the whole fabric at once, which blazed and crackled magnificently. Then the tents were erected close in a row before this grand conflagration. This was not merely meant to keep us warm, though the nights did begin to grow cold, but to frighten wild beasts and wandering Indians. In case any such Indians, belonging to hostile tribes, should see this prodigious blaze, the size of it was meant to give them an idea of a greater force than we possessed.

In one place, where we were surrounded by hills, with swamps lying between them, there seemed to be a general congress of wolves, who answered each other from opposite hills, in sounds the most terrific. Probably the terror which all savage animals have at fire was exalted into fury, by seeing so many enemies, whom they durst not attack. The bull frogs, the harmless, the hideous inhabitants of the swamps, seemed determined not to be outdone, and roared a tremendous bass to this bravura accompaniment. This was almost too much for my love of the terrible sublime; some women, who were our fellow travellers, shrieked with terror; and finally, the horrors of that night were ever after held in awful remembrance by all who shared them.