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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