Part 10

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.

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.

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.

CHAP. XXIV.

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

POPULATION extending to the milder regions of Europe, brought civilization along with it, so that it is only among the savages, (as we call our ancestors) of the north, that we can trace the intermediate state I have spoken of. Amongst them, one regular gradation seems to have taken place; they were first hunters and then warriors. As they advanced in their knowledge of the arts of life, and acquired a little property, as much of pastoral pursuits as their rigorous climate would allow, without the aid of regular agriculture, mingled with their wandering habits. But, except in a few partial instances, from hunters they became conquerors; the warlike habits acquired from that mode of life, raising their minds above patient industry, and teaching them to despise the softer arts that embellish society. In fine, their usual process was to pass to civilization through the medium of conquest. The poet says,

“With noble scorn the first fam’d Cato viewed, Rome learning arts from Greece, which she subdued.”

The surly censor might have spared his scorn, for doubtless science, and the arts of peace, were by far the most valuable acquisitions resulting from their conquest of that polished and ingenious people. But when the savage hunters of the north became too numerous to subsist on their deer and fish, and too warlike to dread the conflict with troops more regularly armed, they rushed down, like a cataract, on their enfeebled and voluptuous neighbours; destroyed the monuments of art, and seemed, for a time, to change the very face of nature. Yet dreadful as were the devastations of this flood, let forth by divine vengeance to punish and to renovate, it had its use in sweeping away the hoarded mass of corruption, with which the dregs of mankind had polluted the earth. It was an awful but a needful process, which, in some form or other, is always renewed when human degeneracy has reached its ultimatum. The destruction of these feeble beings, who, lost to every manly and virtuous sentiment, crawl about the rich property which they have not sense to use worthily, or spirit to defend manfully, may be compared to the effort nature makes to rid herself of the noxious brood of wasps and slugs, cherished by successive mild winters. A dreadful frost comes; man suffers and complains; his subject animals suffer more, and all his works are for a time suspended: but this salutary infliction purifies the air, meliorates the soil, and destroys millions of lurking enemies, who would otherwise have consumed the productions of the earth, and deformed the face of nature. In these barbarous irruptions, the monuments of art, statues, pictures, temples, and palaces, seem to be most lamented. From age to age, the virtuosi of every country have re-echoed to each other their feeble plaints over the lost works of art, as if that had been the heaviest sorrow in the general wreck—and as if the powers that produced them had ceased to exist. It is over the defaced image of the divine author, and not merely the mutilated resemblance of his creatures, that the wise and virtuous should lament! We are told that in Rome there are as many statues as men: had all these lamented statues been preserved, would the world be much wiser or happier? A sufficient number remain as models to future statuaries, and memorials of departed art and genius. Wealth, directed by taste and liberality, may be much better employed in calling forth, by due encouragement, that genius which doubtless exists among our contemporaries, than in paying exorbitantly the vender of fragments.

“Mind, mind alone, bear witness, earth and Heav’n, The living fountain in itself contains Of beauteous and sublime.”