Part 5

When the toils and dangers of the day were over, the still greater terrors of the night commenced. In this, which might literally be styled the howling wilderness, they were forced to sleep in the open air, which was frequently loaded with the humid evaporation of swamps, ponds, and redundant vegetation. Here the axe must be again employed to procure the materials of a large fire, even in the warmest weather. This precaution was necessary, that the flies and mosquitoes might be expelled by the smoke, and that the wolves and bears might be deterred by the flame from encroaching on their place of rest. But the light which afforded them protection created fresh disturbance, as the American wolves howl to the fires kindled to affright them—watching the whole night on the surrounding hills to keep up a concert which truly “rendered night hideous:” meantime the bull-frogs, terrible though harmless, and smaller kinds, of various tones and countless numbers, seemed all night calling to each other from opposite swamps, forming the most dismal assemblage of discordant sounds. Though serpents abounded very much in the woods, few of them were noxious. The rattle-snake, the only dangerous reptile, was not so frequently met with as in the neighbouring provinces, and the remedy which nature has bestowed as an antidote to his bite, was very generally known. The beauties of rural and varied scenery seldom compensated the traveller for the dangers of his journey. “In the close prison of innumerous boughs,” and on ground thick with underwood, there was little of landscape open to the eye. The banks of streams and lakes no doubt afforded a rich variety of trees and plants—the former of a most majestic size, the latter of singular beauty and luxuriance; but otherwise they only travelled through a grove of chestnuts or oak, to arrive at another of maple or poplar, or a vast stretch of pines and other evergreens. If, by chance, they arrived at a hill crowned with cedars, which afforded some command of prospect, still the gloomy and interminable forest, only varied with different shades of green, met the eye whichever way it turned, while the mind, repelled by solitude so vast, and silence so profound, turned inward on itself. Nature here wore a veil rich and grand, but impenetrable—at least this was the impression it was likely to make on an European mind; but a native American, familiar from childhood with the productions and inhabitants of the woods, sought the nuts and wild fruits with which they abounded—the nimble squirrel, in all its varied forms, the architect beaver, the savage raccoon, and the stately elk, where we should see nothing but awful solitudes, untrod by human foot. It is inconceivable how well these young travellers, taught by their Indian friends, and the experimental knowledge of their fathers, understood every soil and its productions. A boy of twelve years old would astonish you with his accurate knowledge of plants, their properties, and their relation to the soil and to each other. “Here,” said he, “is a wood of red oak, when it is grubbed up this will be loam and sand, and make good Indian corn ground. This chestnut wood abounds with strawberries, and is the very best soil for wheat. The poplar wood, yonder, is not worth clearing—the soil is always wet and cold. There is a hickory wood, where the soil is always rich and deep, and does not run out; such and such plants that dye blue or orange, grow under it.”

This is merely a slight epitome of the wide views of nature, that are laid open to these people from their very infancy—the acquisition of this kind of knowledge being one of their first amusements; yet those who were capable of astonishing you by the extent and variety of this local skill, in objects so varied and so complicated, never heard of a petal, corolla, or stigma in their lives, nor even of the strata of that soil, with the productions and properties of which they were so intimately acquainted.

Without compass or guide of any kind, the traders steered through these pathless forests. In those gloomy days, when the sun is not visible, or in winter, when the falling snows obscured his beams, they made an incision in the bark on the different sides of a tree; that on the north was invariably thicker than the other, and covered with moss in much greater quantity: and this never-failing indication of the polar influence, was to those sagacious travellers a sufficient guide. They had, indeed, several subordinate monitors. Knowing, so well as they did, the quality of the soil, by the trees or plants most prevalent, they could avoid a swamp, or approach with certainty to a river or high ground, if such was their wish, by means, that to us would seem incomprehensible. Even the savages seldom visited these districts, except in the dead of winter; they had towns, as they called their summer dwellings, on the banks of the lakes and rivers in the interior, where their great fishing places were. In the winter, their grand hunting parties were in places more remote from our boundaries, where the deer and other larger animals took shelter from the neighbourhood of man. These single adventurers sought the Indians in their spring haunts, as soon as the rivers were open; there they had new dangers to apprehend. It is well known that among the natives of America, revenge was actually a virtue, and retaliation a positive duty. While faith was kept with these people they never became aggressors; but the Europeans, by the force of bad example and strong liquors, seduced them from their wonted probity. Yet, from the first, their notion of justice and revenge was of that vague and general nature, that if they considered themselves injured, or if one of their tribe had been killed by an inhabitant of any one of our settlements, they considered any individual of our nation as a proper subject for retribution. This seldom happened among our allies; never, indeed, but when the injury was obvious, and our people very culpable. But the avidity of gain often led our traders to deal with Indians, among whom the French possessed a degree of influence, which produced a smothered animosity to our nation. When, at length, after conquering numberless obstacles, they arrived at the place of their destination, these daring adventurers found occasion for no little address, patience, and indeed courage, before they could dispose of their cargo, and return safely with the profits.

The successful trader had now laid the foundation of his fortune, and approved himself worthy of her for whose sake he encountered all these dangers. It is utterly inconceivable, how even a single season spent in this manner, ripened the mind, and changed the whole appearance—nay, the very character of the countenance of these demi-savages, for such they seemed on returning from among their friends in the forests. Lofty, sedate, and collected, they seem masters of themselves, and independent of others; though sunburnt and austere, one scarce knows them till they unbend. By this Indian likeness, I do not think them by any means degraded. One must have seen these people, (the Indians I mean,) to have any idea what a noble animal man is while unsophisticated. I have often been amused with the descriptions that philosophers, in their closets, who never in their lives saw man, but in his improved or degraded state, give of uncivilized people; not recollecting that they are at the same time uncorrupted. Voyagers, who have not their language, and merely see them transiently, to wonder and be wondered at, are equally strangers to the real character of man in a social though unpolished state. It is no criterion to judge of this state of society by the roaming savages, (truly such,) who are met with on these inhospitable coasts, where nature is niggardly of her gifts, and where the skies frown continually on her hard-fated children. For some good reason, to us unknown, it is requisite that human beings should be scattered through all habitable space, “till gradual life goes out beneath the pole;” and to beings so destined, what misery would result from social tenderness and fine perceptions. Of the class of social beings, (for such indeed they were,) of whom I speak, let us judge from the traders, who know their language and customs, and from the adopted prisoners, who have spent years among them. How unequivocal, how consistent is the testimony they bear to their humanity, friendship, fortitude, fidelity, and generosity; but the indulgence of the recollections thus suggested, has already led me too far from my subject.

The joy that the return of these youths occasioned was proportioned to the anxiety their perilous journey had produced. In some instances, the union of the lovers immediately took place before the next career of gainful hardships commenced. But the more cautious went to New-York in winter, disposed of their peltry, purchased a larger cargo, and another slave and canoe. The next year they laid out the profits of their former adventures in flour and provisions, the staple of the province; this they disposed of at the Bermuda Islands, where they generally purchased one of those light-sailing cedar schooners, for building of which those islanders are famous, and proceeding to the Leeward Islands, loaded it with a cargo of rum, sugar, and molasses.

They were now ripened into men, and considered as active and useful members of society, possessing a stake in the common weal.

The young adventurer had generally finished this process by the time he was one, or, at most, two and twenty. He now married, or if married before, which pretty often was the case, brought home his wife to a house of his own. Either he kept his schooner, and, loading her with produce, sailed up and down the river all summer, and all winter disposed of the cargoes he obtained in exchange, to more distant settlers; or he sold her, purchased European goods, and kept a store. Otherwise he settled in the country, and became as diligent in his agricultural pursuits as if he had never known any other.

CHAP. X.

Marriages—Amusements—Rural excursions, &c. among the Albanians.

IT was in this manner that the young colonist made the transition from boyhood to manhood; from the disengaged and careless bachelor, to the provident and thoughtful father of a family; and thus was spent that period of life, so critical in polished society, to those whose condition exempts them from manual labour. Love, undiminished by any rival passion, and cherished by innocence and candour, was here fixed by the power of early habit, and strengthened by similarity of education, tastes, and attachments. Inconstancy, or even indifference among married couples, was unheard of, even where there happened to be a considerable disparity in point of intellect. The extreme affection they bore their mutual offspring, was a bond that forever endeared them to each other. Marriage, in this colony, was always early, very often happy, and very seldom, indeed, interested. When a man had no son, there was nothing to be expected with a daughter but a well-brought-up female slave, and the furniture of the best bed-chamber. At the death of her father, she obtained another division of his effects, such as he thought she needed or deserved, for there was no rule in these cases.

Such was the manner in which those colonists began life; nor must it be thought that those were mean or uninformed persons. Patriots, magistrates, generals, those who were afterwards wealthy, powerful, and distinguished, all—except a few elder brothers, occupied by their possessions at home—set out in the same manner; and, in after life, even in the most prosperous circumstances, they delighted to recount the “humble toils and destiny obscure,” of their early years.

The very idea of being ashamed of any thing that was neither vicious nor indecent, never entered an Albanian head. Early accustomed to this noble simplicity, this dignified candour, I cannot express the contempt and disgust I felt at the shame of honourable poverty. The extreme desire of concealing our real condition, and appearing what we are not, that peculiarly characterizes, I had almost said disgraces, the northern part more particularly of this island. I have often wondered how this vile sentiment, that undermines all true greatness of mind, should prevail more here than in England, where wealth, beyond a doubt, is more respected, at least preponderates more over birth, and heart, and mind, and many other valuable considerations. As a people, we certainly are not sordid, why then should we descend to the meanness of being ashamed of our condition, while we have not done any thing to degrade ourselves? Why add a sting to poverty, and a plume to vanity, by the poor transparent artifice that conceals nothing, and only changes pity into scorn?

Before I quit the subject of Albanian manners, I must describe their amusements, and some other peculiarities, in their modes of life. When I say their amusements, I mean those in which they differed from most other people. Such as they had in common with others, require no description. They were exceedingly social, and visited each other very frequently, beside the regular assembling together in their porches, every fine evening. Of the more substantial luxuries of the table, they knew little, and of the formal and ceremonious parts of good breeding, still less.

If you went to spend a day any where, you were received in a manner, we should think, very cold. No one rose to welcome you; no one wondered you had not come sooner, or apologized for any deficiency in your entertainment. Dinner, which was very early, was served exactly in the same manner as if there were only the family. The house, indeed, was so exquisitely neat and well regulated, that you could not surprise them; and they saw each other so often and so easily, that intimates made no difference. Of strangers they were shy—not by any means from want of hospitality, but from a consciousness that people who had little to value themselves on but their knowledge of the modes and ceremonies of polished life, disliked their sincerity, and despised their simplicity. If you showed no insolent wonder, but easily and quietly adopted their manners, you would receive from them not only very great civility but much essential kindness. Whoever has not common sense and common gratitude enough to pay this tribute of accommodation to those among whom he is destined for the time to live, must of course be an insulated, discontented being—and come home railing at the people whose social comforts he disdained to partake. After sharing this plain and unceremonious dinner, which might, by the by, chance to be a very good one, but was invariably that which was meant for the family, tea was served in at a very early hour; and here it was that the distinction shown to strangers commenced. Tea here, was a perfect regale, accompanied by various sorts of cakes unknown to us, cold pastry, and great quantities of sweetmeats and preserved fruits of various kinds, and plates of hickory and other nuts, ready cracked. In all manner of confectionary and pastry, these people excelled; and having fruit in great abundance, which cost them nothing, and getting sugar home at an easy rate, in return for their exports to the West-Indies, the quantity of these articles used in families, otherwise plain and frugal, was astonishing. Tea was never unaccompanied with some of these petty articles; but for strangers, a great display was made. If you staid supper, you were sure of a most substantial though plain one. In this meal they departed, out of compliment to the strangers, from their usual simplicity. Having dined between twelve and one, you were quite prepared for it. You had either game or poultry roasted, and always shell-fish in the season; you had also fruit in abundance. All this with much neatness but no form. The seeming coldness with which you were first received, wore off by degrees. They could not accommodate their topics to you, and scarcely attempted it. But the conversation of the old, though limited in regard to subjects, was rational and easy, and had in it an air of originality and truth, not without its attractions. That of the young was natural and playful, yet full of localities, which lessened its interest to a stranger, but which were extremely amusing when you became one of the initiated.

Their amusements were marked by a simplicity, which, to strangers, appeared rude and childish; (I mean those of the younger class.) In spring, eight or ten of the young people of one company, or related to each other, young men and maidens, would set out together in a canoe, on a kind of rural excursion, of which amusement was the object. Yet so fixed were their habits of industry, that they never failed to carry their work-baskets with them, not as a form, but as an ingredient. necessarily mixed with their pleasures. They had no attendants—and steered a devious course of four, five, or perhaps more, miles, till they arrived at some of the beautiful islands with which this fine river abounded, or at some sequestered spot on its banks, where delicious wild fruits, or particular conveniences for fishing, afforded some attraction. There they generally arrived about nine or ten o’clock, having set out in the cool and early hour of sunrise. Often they met another party, going, perhaps, to a different place, and joined them, or induced them to take their route. A basket, with tea, sugar, and the other usual provisions for breakfast, with the apparatus for cooking it—a little rum and fruit, for making cool, weak punch, the usual beverage in the middle of the day, and now and then some cold pastry, was the sole provision; for the great affair was to depend on the sole exertions of the boys, in procuring fish, wild ducks, &c., for their dinner. They were all, like Indians, ready and dexterous with the axe, gun, &c. Whenever they arrived at their destination, they sought out a dry and beautiful spot opposite to the river, and in an instant, with their axes, cleared so much superfluous shade or shrubbery as left a semicircular opening, above which they bent and twined the boughs, so as to form a pleasant bower, while the girls gathered dried branches, to which one of the youths soon set fire with gunpowder, and the breakfast, a very regular and cheerful one, occupied an hour or two; the young men then set out to fish, or perhaps to shoot birds, and the maidens sat busily down to their work, singing and conversing with all the ease and gaiety the bright serenity of the atmosphere and beauty of the surrounding scene were calculated to inspire. After the sultry hours had been thus employed, the boys brought their tribute from the river or the wood, and found a rural meal prepared by their fair companions, among whom were generally their sisters and the chosen of their hearts. After dinner they all set out together to gather wild strawberries, or whatever other fruit was in season, for it was accounted a reflection to come home empty-handed. When wearied of this amusement, they either drank tea in their bower, or returning, landed at some friend’s on the way, to partake of that refreshment. Here, indeed,

“Youths’ free spirit, innocently gay, Enjoyed the most that innocence could give.”

Another of their summer amusements was going to the bush, which was thus managed: a party of young people set out in little open carriages, something in the form of a gig, of which every family had one; every one carried something with him, as, in these cases, there was no hunting to add provision. One brought wine for negus, another tea and coffee of a superior quality, a third a pigeon pie; in short, every one brought something, no matter how trifling, for there was no emulation about the extent of the contribution. In this same bush, there were spots to which the poorer members of the community retired, to work their way with patient industry, through much privation and hardship, compared to the plenty and comfort enjoyed by the rest. They perhaps could only afford to have one negro-woman, whose children, as they grew up, became to their master a source of plenty and ease: but in the mean time, the good man wrought hard himself, with a little occasional aid sent him by his friends. He had plenty of the necessaries of life, but no luxuries. His wife and daughters milked the cows and wrought at the hay, and his house was on a smaller scale than the older settlers had theirs, yet he had always one neatly-furnished room. A very clean house, with a pleasant portico before it—generally a fine stream beside his dwelling, and some Indian wigwams near it. He was wood-surrounded, and seemed absolutely to live in the bosom of nature, screened from all the artificial ills of life; and those spots, cleared of incumbrances, yet rich in native luxuriance, had a wild originality about them, not easily described. The young parties, or sometimes elder ones, who set out on this woodland excursion, had no fixed destination; they went generally in the forenoon, and when they were tired of going on the ordinary road, turned into the _bush_, and wherever they saw an inhabited spot, with the appearance of which they were pleased, went in with all the ease of intimacy, and told them they were come to spend the afternoon there. The good people, not in the least surprised at this incursion, very calmly opened the reserved apartments, or if it were very hot, received them in the portico. The guests produced their stores, and they boiled their tea-kettle, and provided cream, nuts, or any peculiar dainty of the woods which they chanced to have; and they always furnished bread and butter, which they had excellent of their kinds. They were invited to partake of the collation, which they did with great ease and frankness; then dancing, or any other amusement that struck their fancy, succeeded. They sauntered about the bounds in the evening, and returned by moonlight. These good people felt not the least embarrassed at the rustic plainness of every thing about them: they considered themselves as on the way, after a little longer exertion of patient industry, to have every thing that the others had; and their guests thought it an agreeable variety, in this abrupt manner, to visit their sequestered abodes.

CHAP. XI.

Winter amusements of the Albanians, &c.

IN winter, the river, frozen to a great depth, formed the principal road through the country, and was the scene of all those amusements of skating, and sledge races, common to the north of Europe. They used, in great parties, to visit their friends at a distance, and having an excellent and hardy breed of horses, flew from place to place, over the snow and ice, in these sledges, with incredible rapidity, stopping a little while at every house they came to, and always well received, whether acquainted with the owners or not. The night never impeded these travellers, for the atmosphere was so pure and serene, and the snow so reflected the moon and star-light, that the nights exceeded the days in beauty.