Memoirs of an American Lady: With Sketches of Manners and Scenery in America, as They Existed Previous to the RevolutionGrant, Anne MacVicar
History
Memoirs of an American Lady: With Sketches of Manners and Scenery in America, as They Existed Previous to the Revolution
Grant, Anne MacVicar
Indians of North America; New York (State) -- Social life and customs -- To 1775; Schuyler, Catalina, 1701-1778 or 1779
My voyage down the river, which was, by contrary winds, protracted to a
whole week, would have been very pleasant, could any thing have pleased
me. I was at least soothed by the extreme beauty of many scenes on the
banks of this fine stream, which I was fated never more to behold.
Nothing could exceed the soft grateful verdure that met the eye on every
side as we approached New-York. It was in the beginning of May; the
great orchards which rose on every slope were all in bloom, and the
woods of poplar beyond them, had their sprouting foliage tinged with a
lighter shade of the freshest green. Staten Island rose gradual from the
sea, in which it seemed to float, and was so covered with innumerable
fruit-trees in full blossom, that it looked like some enchanted forest.
I shall not attempt to describe a place so well known as New-York, but
merely content myself with saying that I was charmed with the air of
easy gaiety and social kindness that seemed to prevail every where among
the people, and the cheerful animated appearance of the place
altogether. Here I fed the painful longings of my mind, which already
began to turn impatiently towards madame, by conversing with young
people whom I had met at her house on their summer excursions. These
were most desirous to please and amuse me; and, though I knew little of
good breeding, I had good nature enough to try to seem pleased, but, in
fact, I enjoyed nothing, though I saw there was much to enjoy, had my
mind been tuned as usual to social delight. Fatigued with the kindness
of others, and my own simulation, I tried to forget my sorrows in sleep;
but night, that was wont to bring peace and silence in her train, had no
such companions here. The spirit of discord had broken loose. The
fermentation was begun that was not yet ended. And at midnight, bands of
intoxicated electors, who were then choosing a member for the assembly,
came thundering to the doors, demanding a vote for their favoured
candidate. An hour after, another party equally vociferous, and not more
sober, alarmed us, by insisting on our giving our votes for their
favourite competitor. This was mere play; but before we embarked, there
was a kind of prelusive skirmish, that strongly marked the spirit of the
times. These new patriots had taken it in their heads that Lieutenant
Governor Colden sent home intelligence of their proceedings, or in some
other way betrayed them, as they thought, to government. In one of these
fits of excess and fury, which are so often the result of popular
elections, they went to his house, drew out his coach, and set fire to
it. This was the night before we embarked, after a week’s stay in
New-York.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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