Chapter I: HAVE already sketched a general outline of that pleasant home to which (1)

the colonel was now about to bring his beloved.

Before I resume my narrative, I shall indulge myself in a still more minute account of the premises, the mode of living, &c., which will afford a more distinct idea of the country; all the wealthy and informed people of the settlement living on a smaller scale, pretty much in the same manner. Be it known, however, that the house I had so much delight in recollecting, had no pretension to grandeur, and very little to elegance. It was a large brick house, of two, or rather three stories, (for there were excellent attics,) besides a sunk story, finished with the most exact neatness. The lower floor had two spacious rooms, with large, light closets: on the first there were three rooms, and in the upper one four. Through the middle of the house was a very wide passage, with opposite front and back doors, which in summer, admitted a stream of air, peculiarly grateful to the languid senses. It was furnished with chairs and pictures, like a summer parlour. Here the family usually sat in hot weather, when there were no ceremonious strangers.

Valuable furniture, (though, perhaps, not very well chosen or assorted,) was the favourite luxury of these people; and in all the houses I remember, except those of the brothers, who were every way more liberal, the mirrors, the paintings, the china, but above all, the state bed, were considered as the family seraphim, secretly worshiped, and only exhibited on very rare occasions. But in Colonel Schuyler’s family, the rooms were merely shut up to keep the flies (which in that country are an absolute nuisance) from spoiling the furniture. Another motive was, that they might be pleasantly cool when opened for company. This house had also two appendages, common to all those belonging to persons in easy circumstances there. One was a large portico at the door, with a few steps leading up to it, and floored like a room; it was open at the sides, and had seats all around. Above was either a slight wooden roof, painted like an awning, or a covering of lattice-work, over which a transplanted wild vine spread its luxuriant leaves and numerous clusters. These, though small, and rather too acid till sweetened by the frost, had a beautiful appearance. What gave an air of liberty and safety to these rustic porticos, which always produced in my mind a sensation of pleasure that I know not how to define, was the number of little birds domesticated there. For their accommodation there was a small shelf built round, where they nestled, sacred from the touch of slaves and children, who were taught to regard them as the good genii of the place, not to be disturbed with impunity.

I do not recollect sparrows there, except the wood sparrow. These little birds were of various kinds, peculiar to the country; but the one most frequent and familiar, was a pretty little creature, of a bright cinnamon colour, called a wren, though little resembling the one to which we give that name, for it is more sprightly, and flies higher. Of these and other small birds, hundreds gave and received protection around this hospitable dwelling. The protection they received consisted merely in the privilege of being let alone. That which they bestowed was of more importance than any inhabitant of Britain can imagine. In these new countries, where man has scarce asserted his dominion, life swarms abundant on every side; the insect population is numerous beyond belief, and the birds that feed on them are in proportion to their abundance. In process of time, when their sheltering woods are cleared, all these recede before their master, but not before his empire is fully established. These minute aerial foes are more harassing than the terrible inhabitants of the forest, and more difficult to expel. It is only by protecting, and in some sort domesticating, these little winged allies, who attack them in their own element, that the conqueror of the lion and tamer of the elephant, can hope to sleep in peace, or eat his meals unpolluted. While breakfasting or drinking tea in the airy porticos, which was often the scene of these meals, birds were constantly gliding over the table with a butterfly, grasshopper, or cicada in their bills, to feed their young, who were chirping above. These familiar inmates brushed by without ceremony, while the chirping swallow, the martin, and other hirundines in countless numbers, darted past in pursuit of this aerial population, while the fields resounded with the ceaseless chirping of many gay insects, unknown to our more temperate summers. These were now and then mingled with the animated and not unpleasing cry of the tree-frog, a creature of that species, but of a light, slender form, almost transparent, and of a lively green; it is dry to the touch, and has not the dank moisture of its aquatic relations; in short, it is a pretty, lively creature, with a singular and cheerful note. This loud and not unpleasing insect-chorus, with the swarms of gay butterflies, in constant motion, enliven scenes, to which the prevalence of woods, rising “shade above shade,” on every side, would otherwise give a still and solemn aspect. Several objects, which, with us, are no small additions to the softened changes and endless charms of rural scenery, it must be confessed, are wanting there. No lark welcomes the sun that rises to gild the dark forests and gleaming lakes of America; no mellow thrush or deep-toned blackbird warbles through these awful solitudes, or softens the balmy hour of twilight with

“The liquid language of the groves.”

Twilight itself, the mild and shadowy hour, so soothing to every feeling, every pensive mind; that soft transition from day to night, so dear to peace, so due to meditation, is here scarce known, at least only to have its shortness regretted. No daisy hastens to meet the spring, or embellishes the meads in summer. Here no purple heath exhales its wholesome odour, or decks the arid waste with the chastened glow of its waving bells. No bonny broom, such as enlivens the narrow vales of Scotland with its gaudy bloom, nor flowering furze, with its golden blossoms, defying the cold blasts of early spring, animates their sandy wilds. There the white-blossomed sloe does not forerun the orchard’s bloom, nor the pale primrose shelter its modest head beneath the tangled shrubs. Nature, bountiful yet not profuse, has assigned her various gifts to various climes, in such a manner, that none can claim a decided pre-eminence; and every country has peculiar charms, which endear it to the natives beyond any other. I have been tempted by lively recollections into a digression, rather unwarrantable. To return:

At the back of the large house was a smaller and lower one, so joined to it as to make the form of a cross. There one or two lower and smaller rooms below, and the same number above, afforded a refuge to the family during the rigours of winter, when the spacious summer rooms would have been intolerably cold, and the smoke of prodigious wood fires would have sullied the elegantly clean furniture. Here, too, was a sunk story, where the kitchen was immediately below the eating parlour, and increased the general warmth of the house. In summer, the negroes resided in slight outer kitchens, where food was dressed for the family. Those who wrought in the fields often had their simple dinner cooked without, and ate it under the shade of a great tree. One room, I should have said, in the greater house only, was opened for the reception of company—all the rest were bedchambers for their accommodation, while the domestic friends of the family occupied neat little bed-rooms in the attics, or in the winter-house. This house contained no drawing-room; that was an unheard-of luxury. The winter rooms had carpets—the lobby had oil-cloth, painted in lozenges, to imitate blue and white marble. The best bed-room was hung with family portraits, some of which were admirably executed; and in the eating-room, which, by the by, was rarely used for that purpose, were some fine scripture paintings:—that which made the greatest impression on my imagination, and seemed to be universally admired, was one of Esau, coming to demand the anticipated blessings. The noble, manly figure of the luckless hunter, and the anguish expressed in his comely though strong-featured countenance, I shall never forget. The house fronted the river, on the brink of which, under shades of elm and sycamore, ran the great road towards Saratoga, Stillwater, and the northern lakes; a little, simple avenue of morello cherry trees, inclosed with a white rail, led to the road and river, not three hundred yards distant. Adjoining to this, on the south side, was an inclosure, subdivided into three parts, of which the first was a small hay field, opposite the south end of the house; the next, not so long, a garden; and the third, by far the largest, an orchard. These were surrounded by simple deal fences. Now let not the genius that presides over pleasure-grounds, nor any of his elegant votaries, revolt with disgust, while I mention the unseemly ornaments which were exhibited on the stakes to which the deals of these same fences were bound. Truly they consisted of the skeleton heads of horses and cattle in as great numbers as could be procured, stuck upon the aforesaid poles. The jaws are fixed on the pole, and the skull uppermost. The wren, on seeing a skull thus placed, never fails to enter by the orifice, which is too small to admit the hand of an infant, lines the pericranium with small twigs and horse-hair, and there lays her eggs in full security. It is very amusing to see the little creatures carelessly go out and in at this aperture, though you should be standing immediately beside it. Not satisfied with providing these singular asylums for their feathered friends, the negroes never fail to make a small, round hole in the crown of every old hat they can lay their hands on, and nail it to the end of the kitchen, for the same purpose. You often see in such a one, at once, thirty or forty of these odd little domicils, with the inhabitants busily going out and in.

Besides all these salutary provisions for the domestic comfort of the birds, there was, in clearing the way for their first establishment, a tree always left in the middle of the back yard, for their sole emolument; this tree being purposely pollarded at midsummer, when all the branches were full of sap. Wherever there had been a branch, the decay of the inside produced a hole, and every hole was the habitation of a bird. These were of various kinds, some of which had a pleasing note, but, on the whole, their songsters are far inferior to ours. I rather dwell on these minutiæ, as they not only mark the peculiarities of the country, but convey very truly the image of a people, not too refined for happiness, which, in the process of elegant luxury, is apt to die of disgust.

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CHAP. XVIII.

Description of Colonel Schuyler’s barn—the common, and its
various uses.

ADJOINING to the orchard, was the most spacious barn I ever beheld, which I shall describe for the benefit of such of my readers as have never seen a building constructed on a plan so comprehensive. This barn, which, as will hereafter appear, answered many beneficial purposes, besides those usually allotted for such edifices, was of a vast size, at least an hundred feet long, and sixty wide. The roof rose to a very great height in the midst, and sloped down till it came within ten feet of the ground, when the walls commenced, which, like the whole of this vast fabric, were formed of wood. It was raised three feet from the ground, by beams resting on stone—and on these beams was laid, in the middle of the building, a very massive oak floor. Before the door was a large sill, sloping downwards, of the same materials. About twelve feet in breadth, on each side of this capacious building, were divided off for cattle; on one side ran a manger, at the above-mentioned distance from the wall, the whole length of the building, with a rack above it; on the others, were stalls for the other cattle, running also the whole length of the building. The cattle and horses stood with their hinder parts to the wall, and their heads projecting towards the threshing floor. There was a prodigious large box or open chest in one side built up, for holding the corn after it was threshed; and the roof, which was very lofty and spacious, was supported by large cross beams; from one to the other of these was stretched a great number of long poles, so as to form a sort of open loft, on which the whole rich crop was laid up. The floor of those parts of the barn, which answered the purposes of a stable and cow-house, was made of thick slab deals, laid loosely over the supporting beams; and the mode of cleaning those places, was by turning the boards, and permitting the dung and litter to fall into the receptacles left open below for the purpose; from thence, in spring, they were often driven down to the river—the soil, in its original state, not requiring the aid of manure. In the front[3] of this vast edifice, there were prodigious folding doors, and two others that opened behind.

Footnote 3:

By the front is meant the gable-end, which contains the entrance.

Certainly never did cheerful rural toils wear a more exhilarating aspect than while the domestics were lodging the luxuriant harvest in this capacious repository. When speaking of the doors, I should have mentioned that they were made in the gable ends; those in the back equally large, to correspond with those in the front; while on each side of the great doors were smaller ones, for the cattle and horses to enter. Whenever the corn or hay was reaped or cut, and ready for carrying home, which in that dry and warm climate, happened in a very few days, a waggon, loaded with hay, for instance, was driven into the midst of this great barn; loaded also with numberless large grasshoppers, butterflies, and cicadas, who came along with the hay. From the top of the waggon, this was immediately forked up into the loft of the barn, in the midst of which was an open space left for the purpose; and then the unloaded waggon drove, in rustic state, out of the great door at the other end. In the mean time, every member of the family witnessed or assisted in this summary process, by which the building and thatching of stacks was at once saved; and the whole crop and cattle were thus compendiously lodged under one roof.

The cheerfulness of this animated scene was much heightened by the quick appearance and vanishing of the swallows, who twittered among their high-built dwellings in the roof. Here, as in every other instance, the safety of these domestic friends was attended to, and an abode provided for them. In the front of this barn were many holes, like those of a pigeon-house, for the accommodation of the martin—that being the species to which this kind of home seemed most congenial; and, in the inside of the barn, I have counted above fourscore at once. In the winter, when the earth was buried deep in new-fallen snow, and no path fit for walking in was left, this barn was like a great gallery, well suited for that purpose, and furnished with pictures, not unpleasing to a simple and contented mind. As you walked through this long area, looking up, you beheld the abundance of the year treasured above you; on one side, the comely heads of your snorting steeds presented themselves, arranged in seemly order; on the other, your kine displayed their meeker visages; while the perspective, on either, was terminated by heifers and fillies, no less interesting. In the midst, your servants exercised the flail; and even, while they threshed out the straw, distributed it to the expectants on both sides; while the “liberal handful” was occasionally thrown to the many-coloured poultry on the hill. Winter itself, never made this abode of life and plenty cold or cheerless. Here you might walk and view all your subjects, and their means of support, at one glance, except, indeed, the sheep, for whom a large and commodious building was erected very near the barn; the roof of which was furnished with a loft, large enough to contain hay sufficient for their winter’s food.

Colonel Schuyler’s barn was by far the largest I have ever seen; but all of them, in that country, were constructed on the same plan, furnished with the same accommodation, and presented the same cheering aspect. The orchard, as I formerly mentioned, was on the south side of the barn; on the north, a little farther back towards the wood, which formed a dark screen behind this smiling scene, there was an inclosure, in which the remains of the deceased members of the family were deposited. A field of pretty large extent, adjoining to the house on that side, remained uncultivated and uninclosed; over it were scattered a few large apple-trees, of a peculiar kind, the fruit of which was never appropriated. This piece of level and productive land, so near the family mansion, and so adapted to various and useful purposes, was never made use of, but left open as a public benefit.

From the known liberality of this munificent family, all Indians or new settlers, on their journey, whether they came by land or water, rested here. The military, in passing, always formed a camp on this common, and here the Indian wigwams were often planted; here all manner of garden-stuff, fruit, and milk, were plentifully distributed to wanderers of all descriptions. Every summer, for many years, there was an encampment, either of regular or provincial troops, on this common; and often, when the troops proceeded northward, a little colony of helpless women and children, belonging to them, was left, in a great measure, dependent on the compassion of these worthy patriarchs; for such the brothers might be justly called.

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CHAP. XIX.

Military preparations—Disinterested conduct, the surest road to
popularity—Fidelity
of the Mohawks.

THE first year of the colonel’s marriage was chiefly spent in New-York, and in visits to the friends of his bride, and other relations. The following years they spent at home, surrounded daily by his brothers and their families, and other relatives, with whom they maintained the most affectionate intercourse. The colonel, however, (as I have called him by anticipation,) had, at this time, his mind engaged by public duties of the most urgent nature. He was a member of the colonial assembly; and, by a kind of hereditary right, was obliged to support that character of patriotism, courage, and public wisdom, which had so eminently distinguished his father. The father of Mrs. Schuyler, too, had been long mayor of Albany—at that time an office of great importance—as including, within itself, the entire civil power, exercised over the whole settlement, as well as the town, and having attached to it a sort of patriarchal authority; for the people, little acquainted with coercion, and by no means inclined to submit to it, had, however, a profound reverence, as is generally the case in the infancy of society, for the families of their first leaders, whom they looked up to, merely as knowing them to possess superior worth, talent, and enterprise. In a society, as yet uncorrupted, the value of this rich inheritance can only be diminished by degradation of character, in the representative of a family thus self-ennobled, especially if he be disinterested. This, though apparently a negative quality, being the one of all others that, combined with the higher powers of mind, most engages affection in private and esteem in public life. This is a shield that blunts the shafts which envy never fails to level at the prosperous, even in old establishments, where, from the nature of things, a thousand obstructions rise in the upward path of merit, and a thousand temptations appear to mislead it from its direct road; and where the rays of opinion are refracted by so many prejudices of contending interests and factions. Still, if any charm can be found to fix that fleeting phantom, popularity, this is it. It would be very honourable to human nature, if this could be attributed to the pure love of virtue; but alas! multitudes are not made up of the wise or the virtuous. Yet the very selfishness of our nature inclines us to love and trust those who are not likely to desire any benefit from us in return for those they confer. Other vices may be, if not social, in some degree gregarious; but even the avaricious hate avarice in all but themselves.

Thus inheriting unstained integrity, unbounded popularity, a cool, determined spirit, and ample possessions, no man had fairer pretensions to unlimited sway, in the sphere in which he moved, than the colonel; but of this, no man could be less desirous. He was too wise and too happy to solicit authority, and yet too public-spirited, and too generous, to decline it, when any good was to be done, or any evil resisted, from which no private benefit resulted to himself.

Young as his wife was, and much as she valued the blessing of their union, and the pleasure of his society, she showed a spirit worthy of a Roman matron, in willingly risking all her happiness, even in that early period of her marriage, by consenting to his assuming a military command, and leading forth the provincial troops against the common enemy, who had now become more boldly dangerous than ever. Not content with secretly stimulating the Indian tribes, who were their allies, and enemies to the Mohawks, to acts of violence, the French Canadians, in violation of existing treaties, began to make incursions on the slightest pretexts. It was no common warfare in which the colonel was about to engage: but the duties of entering on vigorous measures, for the defence of the country, became not only obvious but urgent. No other person but he, had influence enough to produce any cohesion among the people of that district, or any determination, with their own arms, and at their own cost, to attack the common enemy. As formerly observed, this had hitherto been trusted to the five confederate Mohawk nations; who, though still faithful to their old friends, had too much sagacity and observation, and, indeed, too strong a native sense of moral rectitude, to persuade their young warriors to go on venturing their lives in defence of those, who, from their increased power and numbers, were able to defend themselves with the aid of their allies. Add to this, that their possessions were on all sides daily extending; and that they, the Albanians, were carrying their trade for furs, &c., into the deepest recesses of the forests, and towards those great lakes which the Canadians were accustomed to consider as the boundaries of their dominions; and where they had Indians whom they were at great pains to attach to themselves, and to inspire against us and our allies.

Colonel Schuyler’s father had held the same rank in a provincial corps formerly—but in his time, there was a profound peace in the district he inhabited; though from his resolute temper and knowledge of public business, and of the different Indian languages, he was selected to head a regiment raised in the Jerseys and the adjacent bounds, for the defence of the back frontiers of Pennsylvania, New-England, &c. Colonel Philip Schuyler was the first who raised a corps in the interior of the province of New-York, which was not only done by his personal influence, but occasioned him a considerable expense, though the regiment was paid by the province; the province also furnishing arms and military stores; their service being, like that of all provincials, limited to the summer half year.

The governor and chief commander came up to Albany, to view and approve the preparations making for this interior war, and to meet the congress of Indian sachems, who, on that occasion, renewed their solemn league with their brother, the great king. Colonel Schuyler, being then the person they most looked up to and confided in, was their proxy on this occasion, in ratifying an engagement, to which they ever adhered with singular fidelity; and mutual presents brightened the chain of amity, to use their own figurative language.

The common and the barn, at the Flats, were fully occupied, and the hospitable mansion, as was usual on all public occasions, overflowed. There the general, his aides-de-camp, the sachems, and the principal officers of the colonel’s regiment, were received; and those who could not find room there, of the next class, were accommodated by Peter and Jeremiah. On the common was an Indian encampment, and the barn and orchard were full of the provincials. All these last, brought, as usual, their own food; but were supplied by this liberal family, with every production of the garden, dairy, and orchard.

While the colonel’s judgment was exercised in the necessary regulations for this untried warfare, Mrs. Schuyler, by the calm fortitude she displayed in this trying exigence—by the good sense and good breeding with which she accommodated her numerous and various guests—and by those judicious attentions to family concerns, which, producing order and regularity through every department, without visible bustle and anxiety, enable the mistress of a family to add grace and ease to hospitality, showed herself worthy of her distinguished lot.

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CHAP. XX.

Account of a refractory warrior, and of the spirit which still pervaded
the
New-England provinces.

WHILE these preparations were going on, the general[4] was making every effort of the neighbourhood to urge those who had promised assistance, to come forward with their allotted quotas.

Footnote 4:

Shirley.

On the other side of the river, not very far from the Flats, lived a person whom I shall not name, though his conduct was so peculiar and characteristic of the times, that his anti-heroism is, on that sole account, worth mentioning. This person lived in great security and abundance, in a place like an earthly paradise, and scarcely knew what it was to have an ungratified wish, having had considerable wealth left to him; and from the simple and domestic habits of his life, had formed no desires beyond it, unless, indeed, it were the desire of being thought a brave man, which seemed his greatest ambition. He was strong, robust, and an excellent marksman; talked loud, looked fierce, and always expressed the utmost scorn and detestation of cowardice. The colonel applied to him, that his name, and the names of such adherents as he could bring, might be set down in the list of those who were to bring their quota, against a given time, for the general defence: with the request he complied. When the rendezvous came on, this talking warrior had changed his mind, and absolutely refused to appear. The general sent for him, and warmly expostulated on his breach of promise; the bad example, and the disarrangement of plan which it occasioned. The culprit spoke in a high tone, saying, very truly, that “the general was possessed of no legal means of coercion; that every one went or staid as they chose; and that his change of opinion, on that subject, rendered him liable to no penalty whatever.” Tired of this sophistry, the enraged general had recourse to club law, and seizing a cudgel, belaboured this recreant knight most manfully, while several Indian sachems, and many of his own countrymen and friends, coolly stood by—for the colonel’s noted common was the scene of this assault. Our poor neighbour, (as he long after became,) suffered this dreadful bastinado, unaided and unpitied; and this example, and the consequent contempt under which he laboured, (for he was ever after styled captain, and did not refuse the title,) was said to have an excellent effect in preventing such retrograde motions in subsequent campaigns.[5] The provincial troops, aided by the faithful Mohawks, performed their duty with great spirit and perseverance. They were, indeed, very superior to the ignorant, obstinate, and mean-souled beings, who, in after times, brought the very name of provincial troops into discredit; and were actuated by no single motive but that of avoiding the legal penalty then affixed to disobedience, and enjoying the pay and provisions allotted to them by the province, or the mother country, I cannot exactly say which. Afterwards, when the refuse of mankind were selected, like Falstaff’s soldiers, and raised much in the same way, the New-York troops still maintained their respectability. This superiority might, without reproaching others, be in some measure accounted for from incidental causes. The four New-England provinces were much earlier settled—assumed sooner the forms of a civil community, and lived within narrower bounds; they were more laborious; their fanaticism, which they brought from England in its utmost fervour, long continued its effervescence, where there were no pleasures, or indeed, lucrative pursuits, to detach their minds from it: and long after that genuine spirit of piety, which, however narrowed and disfigured, was still sincere, had, in a great measure, evaporated, enough of the pride and rigour of bigotry remained, to make them detest and despise the Indian tribes, as ignorant, heathen savages. The tribes, indeed, who inhabited their district, had been so weakened by unsuccessful warfare with the Mohawks, and were so every way inferior to them, that after the first establishment of the colony, and a few feeble attacks successfully repulsed, they were no longer enemies to be dreaded, or friends to be courted. This had an unhappy effect with regard to those provinces; and to the different relations in which they stood with respect to the Indians, some part of the striking difference in the moral and military character of these various establishments must be attributed.

Footnote 5:

Above thirty years after, when the writer of these pages lived with
her family at the Flats, the hero of this little tale used very
frequently to visit her father, a veteran officer, and being a great
talker, war and politics were his incessant topics. There was no
campaign or expedition proposed, but what he censured and decided on:
proposing methods of his own, by which they might have been much
better conducted; in short, Parolles, with his drum, was a mere type
of our neighbour. Her father long wondered how kindly he took to him,
and how a person of so much wealth and eloquence should dwell so
obscurely, and shun all the duties of public life; till at length we
discovered that he still loved to talk arrogantly of war and public
affairs, and pitched upon him for a listener, as the only person he
could suppose ignorant of his disgrace. Such is human nature! and so
incurable is human vanity!

The people of New-England left the mother country, as banished from it by what they considered oppression; came over foaming with religious and political fury, and narrowly missed having the most artful and able of demagogues, Cromwell himself, for their leader and guide. They might be compared to burning lava, discharged by the force of internal combustion, from the bosom of the commonwealth, while inflamed by contending elements. This lava, every one acquainted with the convulsions of nature must know, takes a long time to cool, and when at length it is cooled, turns to a substance hard and barren, that long resists the kindly influence of the elements, before its surface resumes the appearance of beauty and fertility. Such were the almost literal effects of political convulsions, aggravated by a fiery and intolerant zeal for their own mode of worship, on these self-righteous colonists.

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CHAP. XXI.

Distinguishing characteristics of the New-York colonists, to what
owing—Huguenots
and Palatines, their character.

BUT to return to the superior moral and military character of the New-York populace; it was, in the first place, owing to a well-regulated piety, less concerned about forms than essentials; next, to an influx of other than the original settlers, which tended to render the general system of opinion more liberal and tolerant. The French protestants, driven from their native land by intolerant bigotry, had lived at home, excluded alike from public employments and fashionable society. Deprived of so many resources that were open to their fellow-subjects, and forced to seek comfort in piety and concord, for many privations, self-command and frugality had been, in a manner, forced upon them—consequently they were not so vain or so volatile as to disgust their new associates; while their cheerful tempers, accommodating manners, and patience under adversity, were very prepossessing.

These additional inhabitants, being such as had suffered real and extreme hardships for conscience-sake, from absolute tyranny and the most cruel intolerance, rejoiced in the free exercise of a pure and rational religion, and in the protection of mild and equitable laws, as the first of human blessings, which privation had so far taught them to value, that they thought no exertion too great to preserve them. I should have formerly mentioned, that, besides the French refugees already spoken of, during the earliest period of the establishment of the British sovereignty in this part of the continent, a great number of the protestants, whom the fury of war, and persecution on religious accounts, had driven from the Palatinate, during the successful and desolating period of the wars carried on against that unhappy country by Lewis the Fourteenth, took refuge here. The subdued and contented spirit, the simple and primitive manners, and frugal, industrious habits of these genuine sufferers for conscience-sake, made them an acquisition to any society which received them, and a most suitable infusion among the inhabitants of this province, who, devoted to the pursuits of agriculture and the Indian trade, which encouraged a wild, romantic spirit of adventure, little relished those mechanical employments, or that petty yet necessary traffic in shops, &c., to which part of every regulated society must needs devote their attention. These civic toils were left to those patient and industrious exiles; while the friendly intercourse with the original natives, had strongly tinctured the first colonists with many of their habits and modes of thinking. Like them, they delighted in hunting; that image of war, which so generally, where it is the prevalent amusement, forms the body to athletic force and patient endurance, and the mind to daring intrepidity. It was not alone the timorous deer or feeble hare that were the objects of their pursuit; nor could they, in such an impenetrable country, attempt to rival the fox in speed or subtlety. When they kept their “few sheep in the wilderness,” the she-bear, jealous of her young, and the wolf, furious for prey, were to be encountered for their protection. From these allies, too, many who lived much among them, had learnt that fearless adherence to truth, which exalts the mind to the noblest kind of resolution. The dangers they were exposed to, of meeting wandering individuals, or parties of hostile Indians, while traversing the woods in their sporting or commercial adventures, and the necessity that sometimes occurred of defending their families by their own personal prowess, from the stolen irruptions of detached parties of those usually called the French Indians, had also given their minds a warlike bent; and as the boy was not uncommonly trusted at nine or ten years of age, with a light fowling-piece, which he soon learned to use with great dexterity, few countries could produce such dexterous marksmen, or persons so well qualified for conquering those natural obstacles of thick woods and swamps, which would at once baffle the most determined European. It was not only that they were strong of limb, swift of foot, and excellent marksmen—the hatchet was as familiar to them as the musket; and an amateur, who had never cut wood but for his diversion, could hew down a tree with a celerity that would astonish and abash a professed wood-cutter in this country; in short, when means or arguments could be used powerful enough to collect a people so uncontrolled and so uncontrollable, and when headed by a leader whom they loved and trusted, so much as they did Colonel Schuyler, a well-armed body of New-York provincials had nothing to dread but an ague or an ambuscade, to both of which they were much exposed on the banks of the lakes, and amidst the swampy forests, through which they had to penetrate in pursuit of an enemy, of whom they might say with the Grecian hero, that “they wanted but daylight to conquer him.” This first essay in arms of those provincials, under the auspices of their brave and generous leader, succeeded beyond their hopes: this is all I can recollect of it. Of its destination, I only know that it was directed against some of those establishments which the French began to make within the British boundaries. The expedition only terminated with the season. The provincials brought home Canadian prisoners, who were kept on their parole in the houses of the three brothers, and became afterwards their friends; and the Five Nations brought home Indian prisoners, most of whom they adopted, and scalps enough to strike awe into the adverse nations, who were for a year or two afterwards pretty quiet.

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CHAP. XXII.

A child still-born—Adoption of children common in the province—Madame’s
visit to New-York.

MRS. SCHUYLER had contributed all in her power to forward this expedition—but was probably hurt, either by the fatigue of receiving so many friends, or the anxiety produced by parting with them under such circumstances; for soon after the colonel’s departure, she was delivered of a dead child, which event was followed by an alarming illness—but she wished the colonel to be kept ignorant of it, that he might give his undivided attention to the duties in which he was engaged. Providence, which doubtless had singled out this benevolent pair to be the parents of many who had no natural claim upon their affection, did not indulge them with any succeeding prospects of a family of their own. This privation, not a frequent one in this colony, did not chill the minds or narrow the hearts of people, who, from this circumstance, found themselves more at liberty to extend their beneficence, and enlarge that circle which embraced the objects of their love and care. This, indeed, was not singular, during that reign of natural feeling which preceded the prevalence of artificial modes in this primitive district. The love of offspring is certainly one of the strongest desires that the uncorrupted mind forms to itself in a state of comparative innocence. Affecting indifference on this subject, is the surest proof of a disposition either callous, or led by extreme vanity to pretend insensibility to the best feelings of our nature.

To a tie so exquisitely tender, the pledge and bond of connubial union; to that bud of promised felicity, which always cheers with the fragrance of hope, the noon-day of toil or care, and often supports with the rich cordial of filial love and watchful duty, the evening of our decline, what mind can be indifferent? No wonder the joys of paternity should be highly relished, where they were so richly flavoured; where parents knew not what it was to find a rebel or a rival in a child; first, because they set the example of simplicity, of moderation, and of seeking their highest joys in domestic life; next, because they quietly expected and calmly welcomed the evening of life; and did not, by an absurd desire of being young too long, inspire their offspring with a premature ambition to occupy their place. What sacrifices have I not seen made to filial piety! How many respectable, (though not young) maidens, who, without pretending a dislike to marriage, have rejected men whom their hearts approved, because they would not forsake, during her lifetime, a widowed mother, whose sole comfort they were!

For such children, who that hopes to grow old, would not wish? a consideration which the more polished manners of Europe teach us to banish as far as possible from our minds. We have learned to check this natural sentiment, by finding other objects for those faculties of our minds, which nature intended to bless and benefit creatures born to love us, and to enlarge our affections by exciting them. If this stream, which so naturally inclines to flow downwards, happened to be checked in its course for want of the usual channel, these adepts in the science of happiness, immediately formed a new one, and liked their canal as well as a river, because it was of their own making. To speak without a metaphor, whoever wanted a child adopted one; love produced love, and the grafted scion very often proved an ornament and defence to the supporting stock; but then the scion was generally artless and grateful. This is a part of the manners of my old friends, which I always remember with delight; more particularly as it was the invariable custom to select the child of a friend who had a numerous family. The very animals are not devoid of that mixture of affection and sagacity, which suggests a mode of supplying this great desideratum. Next to that prince of cats, the famous cat of Whittington, I would place the cat recorded by Dr. White, in his curious natural history, who, when deprived of her young, sought a parcel of deserted leverets to suckle and to fondle. What an example!

The following year produced a suspension of hostilities between the provinces and the Canadians. The colonel went to New-York to attend his duty, being again chosen a member of the Colonial Assembly. Mrs. Schuyler accompanied him; and being improved both in mind and manners since her marriage, which, by giving her a more important part to act, had called forth her powers, she became the centre of a circle, by no means inelegant or uninformed; for society was there more various and more polished than in any other part of the continent, both from the mixture of settlers, formerly described, and from its being situated in a province most frequently the seat of war, and consequently forming the headquarters of the army, which, in point of the birth and education of the candidates for promotion, was on a very different footing from what it has been since. It was then a much narrower range, and the selection more attended to. Unless a man, by singular powers of talent, fought his way from the inferior rank, there was hardly an instance of a person getting even a subaltern’s commission, whose birth was not at least genteel, and who had not interest and alliances. There were not so many lucrative places under government. The wide field of adventure, since opened in the east, was scarcely known; a subaltern’s pay was more adequate to the maintenance of a gentleman; and the noblest and most respected families had no other way of providing for such younger brothers, as were not bred to any learned profession, but by throwing them into the army. As to morals, this did not, perhaps, much mend the matter. These officers might, in some instances be thoughtless, and even profligate, but they were seldom ignorant or low bred; and that rare character, called a finished gentleman, was not unfrequently to be found among the higher ranks of them—who had added experience, reading, and reflection, to their original stock of talents and attainments.

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CHAP. XXIII.

Colonel Schuyler’s partiality to the military children successively
adopted—Indian
character falsely charged with idleness.

IT so happened that a succession of officers, of the description mentioned in the preceding chapter, were to be ordered upon the service which I have been detailing; and whether in New-York or at home, they always attached themselves particularly to this family, who, to the attractions of good breeding, and easy, intelligent conversation, added the power, which they pre-eminently possessed, of smoothing the way for their necessary intercourse with the independent and self-righted settlers, and instructing them in many things essential to promote the success of the pursuits in which they were about to engage. It was one of aunt Schuyler’s many singular merits, that, after acting for a time a distinguished part in this comparatively refined society, where few were so much admired and esteemed, she could return to the homely good sense and primitive manners of her fellow-citizens at Albany, free from fastidiousness and disgust. Few, indeed, without study or design, ever better understood the art of being happy, and making others so. Being gay is another sort of thing; gaiety, as the word is understood in society, is too often assumed, artificial, and produced by such an effort, that, in the midst of laughter, “the heart is indeed sad.” Very different are the smiles that occasionally illume the placid countenance of cheerful tranquillity. They are the emanations of a heart at rest; in the enjoyment of that sunshine of the breast, which is set forever to the restless votaries of mere amusement.

According to the laudable custom of the country, they took home a child, whose mother had died in giving her birth, and whose father was a relation of the colonel’s. This child’s name was either Schuyler or Cuyler, I do not exactly remember which; but I remember her many years after, as Mrs. Vander Poolen—when, as a comely, contented-looking matron, she used to pay her annual visit to her beloved benefactress and send her ample presents of such rural dainties as her abode afforded. I have often heard her warm in her praises; saying, how useful, how modest, and how affectionate she had been—and exulting in her comfortable settlement, and the plain worth, which made her a blessing to her family. From this time to her aunt’s death, above fifty years afterwards, her house was never without one, but much oftener two children, whom this exemplary pair educated with parental care and kindness. And whenever one of their protégéss married out of the house, which was generally at a very early age, she carried with her a female slave, born and baptised in the house, and brought up with a thorough knowledge of her duty, and an habitual attachment to her mistress, besides the usual present of the furniture of a chamber, and a piece of plate, such as a teapot, tankard, or some such useful matter, which was more or less valuable, as the protégés was more or less beloved; for though aunt Schuyler had great satisfaction from the characters and conduct of all her adopted, there were, no doubt, degrees of merit among them, of which she was better able to judge than if she had been their actual mother.

There was now an interval of peace, which gave these philanthropists more leisure to do good in their own way. They held a threefold band of kindness in their hands, by which they led to the desirable purpose of mutual advantage three very discordant elements, which were daily becoming more difficult to mingle and to rule; and which yet were the more dependent on each other for mutual comfort, from the very causes which tended to disunite them.

In the first place, the Indians began to assume that unfavourable and uncertain aspect, which it is the fate of man to wear in the first steps of his progress from that state where he is a being at once warlike and social, having few wants, and being able, without constant labour or division of ranks, to supply them; where there is no distinction, save that attained by superior strength of mind and body, and where there are no laws, but those dictated by good sense, aided by experience, and enforced by affection, this state of life may be truly called the reign of the affections: the love of kindred and of country, ruling paramount, unrivalled by other passions, all others being made subservient to these. Vanity, indeed, was in some degree flattered, for people wore ornaments, and were at no small pains to make them. Pride existed—but was differently modified from what we see it; every man was proud of the prowess and achievements of his tribe collectively; of his personal virtues he was not proud, because we excel but by comparison; and he rarely saw instances of the opposite vices in his own nation, and looked on others with unqualified contempt.

When any public benefit was to be obtained, or any public danger to be averted, their mutual efforts were all bent to one end; and no one knew what it was to withhold his utmost aid, nor indeed could, in that stage of society, have any motive for doing so. Hence, no mind being contracted by selfish cares, the community were but as one large family, who enjoyed or suffered together. We are accustomed to talk, in parrot phrase, of indolent savages; and, to be sure, in warm climates, and where the state of man is truly savage, that is to say, unsocial, void of virtue, and void of comforts, he is certainly an indolent being: but that individual, in a cold climate, who has tasted the sweets of social life—who knows the wants that arise from it—who provides for his children in their helpless state—and where taste and ingenuity are so much improved, that his person is not only clothed with warm and seemly apparel, but decorated with numerous and not inelegant ornaments, which from the scarcity and simplicity of his tools, he has no ready or easy mode of producing. When he has not only found out all these wants, which he has no means of supplying but by his individual strength, dexterity, and ingenuity, industry must be added, ere they can be all regularly gratified. Very active and industrious, in fact, the Indians were in their original state; and when we take it into consideration, that beside all these occupations, together with their long journeys, wars, and constant huntings and fishing, their leisure was occupied not only by athletic but studious games, at which they played for days together with unheard-of eagerness and perseverance; it will appear they had very little of that lounging time, for which we are so apt to give them credit. Or if a chief, occasionally after fatigue, of which we can form no adequate idea, lay silent in the shade, those frisking Frenchmen, who have given us most details concerning them, were too restless themselves to subdue their skipping spirits to the recollection, that a Mohawk had no study or arm-chair wherein to muse and cogitate; and that his schemes of patriotism, his plans of war, and his eloquent speeches, were all like the meditations of Jacques, formed “under the greenwood tree.” Neither could any man lounge on his sofa, while half a dozen others were employed in shearing the sheep, preparing the wool, weaving and making his coat, or in planting the flax for his future linen, and flaying the ox for his future shoes; were he to do all this himself, he would have little leisure for study or repose. And all this and more the Indian did, under other names and forms; so that idleness, with its gloomy followers, ennui and suicide, were unknown among this truly active people; yet that there is a higher state of society cannot be denied; nor can it be denied that the intermediate state is a painful and enfeebling one.

Man, in a state of nature, is taught by his more civilized brethren a thousand new wants before he learns to supply one. Thence barter takes place; which, in the first stage of progression, is universally fatal to the liberty, the spirit, and the comforts of an uncivilized people.

In the east, where the cradle of our infant nature was appointed, the clime was genial, its productions abundant, and its winters only sufficient to consume the surplus, and give a welcome variety to the seasons. There man was either a shepherd or a hunter, as his disposition led—and that, perhaps, in the same family. The meek spirit of Jacob delighted in tending his father’s flocks; while the more daring and adventurous Esau traced the wilds of Mount Seir, in pursuit both of the fiercer animals who waged war upon the fold, and the more timorous, who administered to the luxury of the table.

The progress of civilization was here gradual and gentle; and the elegant arts seem to have gone hand in hand with the useful ones. For we read of bracelets and ear-rings sent as tokens of love, and images highly valued and coveted, while even agriculture seemed in its infancy.

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CHAP. XXIV.

Progress of civilization in Europe—Northern nations instructed in the
arts of life by those they had subdued.