[Ill 0316]
|Ann Eliza Bleecker, whose name is prominent in the list of the female
poets of our country, was the youngest child of Brandt Schuyler, of
New York, where she was born, in 1752. In her early years she was
passionately fond of books, and wrote verses, which, however, were shown
to none but her most intimate acquaintances. After her marriage, at the
age of seventeen, to John J. Bleecker, of New Rochelle, she removed to
Poughkeepsie, and thence to Tomhanick, a pretty and secluded village
about eighteen miles from Albany, where her residence was well suited to
her romantic tastes. The house commanded a beautiful view; on one side
was a fine garden, filled with flowers and fruit trees, and beyond it
the Tomhanick River dashed foaming over a bed of broken rocks. On the
other lay wide cultivated fields; a wood, through the openings of which
cottages might be descried, bounded the orchard in the rear, and in
front a meadow, through which wandered a clear stream, stretched itself
to join a ridge of tall pines, on the shelving side of a mountain. To
the imagination of Mrs. Bleecker, the dark forest, the green valley and
the rushing river had more charms than the gay city she had quitted; but
her tranquil enjoyment of these lovely scenes, in the cultivation of
her flowers and grounds, and the indulgence of her poetical tastes, was
destined to be shortlived.
The approach of Burgoyne's army, in 1777, drove the family from their
rural retreat. While Mr. Bleecker was gone to Albany to seek a place
of refuge for them, his wife was terrified by news that the enemy were
close to the village, burning and murdering all before them. With her
children and one servant, she fled to a place called Stony Arabia.
The roads were crowded with carriages loaded with women and children;
distress and weeping were everywhere; no one spoke to another, and the
tramping of horses and the dismal creaking of burdened wheels, alone
interrupted the mournful silence. Mrs. Bleecker obtained a place for
her children in one of the wagons, and herself performed the journey on
foot. But when she reached the place where she hoped to find friends,
no door was open to her. She wandered from house to house, and at length
obtained an asylum in the garret of a rich acquaintance, where a couple
of blankets, spread on boards, were given her as a bed. The night was
passed in tears; but the next day Mr. Bleecker came and brought them to
Albany, whence they set off with several other families by water. A
more severe distress here overtook the mother--her little daughter being
taken so ill that they were obliged to go on shore, where she died, and
was buried on the banks of the river. This bereavement was followed in
rapid succession by the death of her mother and sister.
In August of the year 1781, while Mr. Bleecker was assisting in the
harvest, he was taken prisoner by one of the scouting parties from
Canada. His wife abandoned herself to hopeless grief. She says, "My hour
of darkness and astonishment was very great; I lifted my broken heart
in despair." But after the agonizing suspense of a few days, her husband
returned, having been rescued by a party of Americans.
Amid the scenes of distress, in many of which Mrs. Bleecker was a
principal sufferer, she was sustained by the hope of yet seeing the
footsteps of desolation effaced from the soil. She was not destined,
however, to behold the recovery of her native land from the ravages of
war. After a rapid decline, the struggles of this calm and lovely spirit
were ended in death, in November, 1783.
The benevolence of Mrs. Bleecker's heart overflowed on all with whom
she associated. "To the aged and infirm," says her daughter, "she was
a physician and a friend; to the orphan a mother, and a soother of the
widow's woes." She is said to have possessed a considerable share of
beauty, her figure being tall and graceful; and her easy, unaffected
deportment and engaging manners prepossessed strangers in her favor. Her
letters describing the scenes around her, show her ardent and poetical
temperament. An intense love of nature appears in her poems, and a
warmth of heart, with a delicacy and taste, that cannot fail to please;
though they lack the high finish a greater severity of critical judgment
would have bestowed.
Mrs. Bleecker's daughter, Margaretta Faugeres, was also a poet, and has
sung in sweet strains "the hoar genius of old Hudsons stream," including
a description of the scenery of Fort Edward and West Point. In the
latter portion is introduced a highly poetical "Vision of Arnold," where
Treason is personified, plotting her dark schemes while bending over the
bright waters, and stealing softly to the traitor's couch. Margaretta
became distinguished after the war, in New York fashionable society, as
a gifted and accomplished woman, although her married life was rendered
unhappy by a profligate husband. After his death in 1798, she assisted
in a female academy in New Brunswick; but her sufferings had broken her
heart. She died, a hopeful Christian, at the early age of twenty-nine.