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Файл:Satanstoe; or, The Littlepage Manuscripts
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SATANSTOE; OR, THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS
«Why, your aunt says, it is whispered among a few in town,
a very few only, but whispered, that Herman Mordaunt got
the appointment named, merely that he might have a pretence for taking Anneke near the – – th, in which regiment
it seems there is a baronet’s son, who is a sort of relative of his,
and whom he wishes to marry to Anneke».
«I am sorry, then, that my aunt Legge listens to any such
unworthy gossip!» I indignantly cried. «My life on it, Anneke
Mordaunt never contemplated so indelicate a thing!»
«No one supposes Anneke does, or did. But fathers are not
daughters, Corny; no, nor mothers neither, as I can freely say,
seeing you are my only child. Herman Mordaunt may imagine
all this in his heart, and Anneke be every thing that is innocent and delicate».
«And how can my aunt Legge’s informants know what is in
Herman Mordaunt’s heart?»
«How? – I suppose they judge by what they fi nd in their
own, my son; a common means of coming at a neighbour’s failings, though I believe virtues are rarely detected by the same
process».
«Ay, and judge of others by themselves. The means may be
common, mother, but they are not infallible».
«Certainly not, Corny, and that will be a ground of hope to
you. Remember, my child, you can bring me no daughter
I shall love half as well as I feel I can love Anneke Mordaunt.
We are related too, her father’s great-great-grandmother»
«Never mind the great-great-grandmother, my dear, good,
excellent, parent. After this I shall not attempt to have any
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
secret from you. Unless Anneke Mordaunt consent to be your
daughter, you will never have one».
«Do not say that, Corny, I beseech you», cried my mother,
a good deal frightened. «Remember there is no accounting for
tastes; the army is a formidable rival, and, after all, this Mr. Bulstrode, I think you call him, may prove as acceptable to Anneke as to her father. Do not say so cruel a thing, I entreat of
you, dearest, dearest, Corny».
«It is not a minute, mother, since you said how little you
apprehended for me, when opposed by any other man in
the province!»
«Yes, child, but that is a very different thing from seeing
you pass all your days as a heartless, comfortless old bachelor. There are fi fty young women in this very county, I could
wish to see you united to, in preference to witnessing such
a calamity».
«Well, mother, we will say no more about it. But is it true
that Mr. Worden actually intends to be of our party?»
«Both Mr. Worden and Mr. Newcome, I believe. We shall
scarcely know how to spare the fi rst, but he conceives he
has a call to accompany the army, in which there are so few
chaplains; and souls are called to their last dread account so
suddenly in war, that one does not know how to refuse to let
him go».
My poor, confi ding mother! When I look back at the past,
and remember the manner in which the Rev. Mr. Worden discharged the duties of his sacred offi ce during the campaign
that succeeded, I cannot but smile at the manner in which
confi dence manifests itself in woman. The sex has a natural
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SATANSTOE; OR, THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS
disposition to place their trusts in priests, by a very simple
process of transferring their own dispositions to the bosoms of
those they believe set apart for purely holy objects. Well, we
live and learn. I dare say that many are what they profess to
be, but I have lived long enough now to know all are not. As
for Mr. Worden, he had one good point about him, at any rate.
His friends and his enemies saw the worst of him. He was no
hypocrite, but his associates saw the man very much as he was.
Still, I am far from wishing to hold up this imported minister
as a model of Christian graces for my descendants to admire.
No one can be more convinced than myself how much sectarians are prone to substitute their own narrow notions of
right and wrong for the Law of God, confounding acts that
are perfectly innocent in themselves with sin; but, at the same
time, I am quite aware too, that appearances are ever to be consulted in cases of morals, and that it is a minor virtue to be
decent in matters of manners. The Rev. Mr. Worden, whatever
might have been his position as to substantial, certainly carried the external of liberality to the verge of indiscretion.
A day or two after the conversation I have related, our party
left Satanstoe, with some éclat. The team belonged equally to
the Follocks and the Littlepages, one horse being the property of my father, while the other belonged to Col. Follock.
The sleigh, an old one new painted for the occasion, was the sole
property of the latter gentleman, and was consigned, in mercantile phrase, to Dirck, in order to be disposed of as soon as
we should reach the end of our journey. On its exterior it was
painted a bright sky-blue, while its interior was of vermilion,
a colour that was and is much in vogue for this species of ve-
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
hicle, inasmuch as it carries with it the idea of warmth; so, at
least, the old people say, though I will confess I never found
my toes any less cold in a sleigh thus painted, than in one
painted blue, which is usually thought a particularly cold colour to the feet.
We had three buffalo-skins, or, rather, two buffalo (bison)
skins and one bear-skin. The last, being trimmed with scarlet
cloth, had a particularly warm and comfortable appearance.
The largest skin was placed on the hind-seat, and thrown over
the back of the sleigh, as a matter of course; and, though this
back was high enough to break off the wind from our heads
and necks, the skin not only covered it, but it hung two or
three feet down behind, as is becoming in a gentleman’s sleigh.
The other buffalo was spread in the bottom of the sleigh, as
a carpet for all four, leaving an apron to come in front upon
Dirck’s and my lap, as a protection against the cold in that
quarter. The bear-skin formed a cushion for us in front, and
an apron for Mr. Worden and Jason, who sat behind. Our
trunks had gone on the lumber sleighs, that is, mine and
Dirck’s had thus been sent, while our two companions found
room for theirs in the conveyance in which we went ourselves.
It was March 1st, 1758, the morning we left Satanstoe, on
this memorable excursion. The winter had proved as was common in our latitude, though there had been more snow along
the coast than was usual. Salt air and snow do not agree well
together; but I had driven in a sleigh over the Neck, most of
the month of February, though there were symptoms of
a thaw, and of a southerly wind, the day we left home. My father observed this, and he advised me to take the road through
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SATANSTOE; OR, THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS
the centre of the county, and get among the hills, as soon as
possible. Not only was there always more snow in that part of
the country, but it resisted the infl uence of a thaw much longer than that which had fallen near the sea or Sound. I got
my mother’s last kiss, my father’s last shake of the hand, my
grandfather’s blessing, stepped into the sleigh, took the reins
from Dirck, and drove off.
A party in a sleigh must be composed of a very sombre
sort of persons, if it be not a merry one. In our case, everybody
was disposed to good-humour; though Jason could not pass
along the highway, in York Colony, without giving vent to
his provincial, Connecticut hypercriticism. Everything was
Dutch, according to his view of matters; and when it failed of
being Dutch, why, it was York-Colony. The doors were not in
the right places; the windows were too large, when they were
not too small; things had a cabbage-look; the people smelt of
tobacco; and hasty-pudding was called «suppaan». But these
were trifl es; and being used to them, nobody paid much attention to what our puritanical neighbour saw fi t to pour out, in
the humility and meekness of his soul. Mr. Worden chuckled,
and urged Jason on, in the hope of irritating Dirck; but Dirck
smoked through it all, with an indifference that proved how
much he really despised the critic. I was the only one who resented this supercilious ignorance; but even I was often more
disposed to laugh than to be angry.
The signs of a thaw increased, as we got a few miles from
home; and by the time we reached White Plains, the «south
wind» did not blow «softly», but freshly, and the snow in
the road became sloppy, and rills of water were seen running
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
down the hill-sides, in a way that menaced destruction to
the sleighing. On we drove, however, and deeper and deeper
we got among the hills, until we found not only more snow,
but fewer symptoms of immediately losing it. Our fi rst day’s
work carried us well into the manor of the Van Cortlandts,
where we passed the night. Next morning the south wind was
still blowing, sweeping over the fi elds of snow, charged with
the salt air of the ocean; and bare spots began to show themselves on all the acclivities and hill-sides – an admonition
for us to be stirring. We breakfasted in the Highlands, and in
a wild and retired part of them, though in a part where snow
and beaten roads were still to be found. We had escaped from
the thaw, and no longer felt any uneasiness on the subject of
reaching the end of our journey on runners.
The second day brought us fairly through the mountains,
out on the plains of Dutchess, permitting us to sup at Fishkill. This was a thriving settlement, the people appearing to
me to live in abundance, as certainly they did in peace and quiet. They made little of the war, and asked us many questions
concerning the army, its commanders, its force and its objects.
They were a simple, and judging from appearances, an honest
people, who troubled themselves very little with what was going on in the world.
After quitting Fishkill we found a great change, not only in
the country, but in the weather. The fi rst was level, as a whole,
and was much better settled than I could have believed possible so far in the interior. As for the weather, it was quite a different climate from that we had left below the highlands. Not
only was the morning cold, cold as it had been a month earlier
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SATANSTOE; OR, THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS
with us, but the snow still lay two or three feet in depth on
a level, and the sleighing was as good as heart could wish.
That afternoon we overtook Yaap and the brigade of lumber-sleighs. Everything had gone right, and after giving the fellow some fresh instructions, I passed him, proceeding on our
route. This parting did not take place, however, until the following had been uttered between us:
«Well, Yaap», I inquired, as a sort of close to the previous
discourse, «how do you like the upper counties?»
A loud negro laugh succeeded, and a repetition of the question was necessary to extort an answer.
«Lor’, Masser Corny, how you t’ink I know, when dere
not’in but snow to be seen!»
«There was plenty of snow in Westchester; yet, I dare say
you could give some opinion of our own county!»
«‘Cause I know him, sah; inside and out, and all over Masser Corny».
«Well; but you can see the houses, and orchards, and barns,
and fences, and other things of that sort».
«‘Em pretty much like our’n, Masser Corny; why you bother nigger with sich question?»
Here another burst of loud, hearty «yah – yah – yahs succeeded; and Yaap had his laugh out before another word could
be got out of him, when I put the question a third time.
«Well, den, Masser Corny, sin’ you will know, dis is my
mind. Dis country is oncomparable wid our ole county sah. De
houses seem mean, de barns look empty, de fencea be low, and
de niggers, ebbery one of ‘em, look cold, sah – yes, sah – ‘ey
look berry cold!»
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
As a «cold negro» was a most pitiable object in negro eyes,
I saw by this summary that Yaap had commenced his travels in
much of the same temper of superciliousness as Jason Newcome. It struck me as odd at the time; but, since that day, I have
ascertained that this feeling is a very general travelling companion for those who set out on their fi rst journey.
We passed our third night at a small hamlet called Rhinebeck, in a settlement in which many German names were to
be found. Here we were travelling through the vast estates of
the Livingstons, a name well-known in our colonial history.
We breakfasted at Claverack, and passed through a place
called Kinderhook – a village of Low Dutch origin, and of
some antiquity. That night we succeeded in coming near Albany, by making a very hard day’s drive of it. There was no
village at the place where we slept; but the house was a comfortable, and exceedingly neat Dutch tavern. After quitting
Fishkill we had seen more or less of the river, until we passed
Claverack, where we took our leave of it. It was covered with
ice, and sleighs were moving about it, with great apparent security; but we did not like to try it. Our whole party preferred
a solid highway, in which there was no danger of the bottom’s dropping out.
As we were now about to enter Albany, the second largest town in the colony and one of the largest inland towns of
the whole country, if such a word can properly be given to
a place that lies on a navigable river, it was thought necessary to make some few arrangements, in order to do it decently. Instead of quitting the tavern at daylight, therefore, as had
been our practice previously, we remained until after break-
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SATANSTOE; OR, THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCRIPTS
fast, having recourse to our trunks in the mean time. Dirck,
Jason and myself, had provided ourselves with fur caps for
the journey, with ear-laps and other contrivances for keeping
oneself warm. The cap of Dirck, and my own, were of very fi ne
martens’ skins, and as they were round and high, and each was
surmounted with a handsome tail, that fell down behind, they
had both a smart and military air. I thought I had never seen
Dirck look so nobly and well, as he did in his cap, and I got
a few compliments on my own air in mine, though they were
only from my mother, who, I do think, would feel disposed to
praise me, even if I looked wretchedly. The cap of Jason was
better suited to his purse, being lower, and of fox-skins, though
it had a tail also. Mr. Worden had declined travelling in a cap,
as unsuited to his holy offi ce. Accordingly he wore his clerical
beaver, which differed a little from the ordinary cocked-hats,
that we all wore as a matter of course, though not so much so
as to be very striking.
All of us had overcoats well trimmed with furs, mine and
Dirck’s being really handsome, with trimmings of marten,
while those of our companion were less showy and expensive. On a consultation, Dirck and I decided that it was better taste to enter the town in traveller’s dresses, than to enter
it in any other, and we merely smartened up a little, in order to
appear as gentlemen. The case was very different with Jason.
According to his idea a man should wear his best clothes on
a journey, and I was surprised to see him appear at breakfast, in black breeches, striped woollen stockings, large plated
buckles in his shoes, and a coat that I well knew he religiously
reserved for high-days and holidays. This coat was of a light
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JAMES FENIMORE COOPER
pea-green colour, and but little adapted to the season; but
Jason had not much notion of the fi tness of things, in general, in matters of taste. Dirck and myself wore our ordinary
snuff-coloured coats, under our furs; but Jason threw aside all
the overcoats, when we came near Albany, in order to enter
the place in his best. Fortunately for him, the day was mild,
and there was a bright sun to send its warm rays through
the pea-green covering, to keep his blood from chilling. As for
Mr. Worden, he wore a cloak of black cloth, laying aside all
the furs, but a tippet and muff, both of which he used habitually in cold weather.
In this guise, then, we left the tavern, about nine in
the morning, expecting to reach the banks of the river about
ten. Nor were we disappointed; the roads being excellent, a light
fall of snow having occurred in the night, to freshen the track.
It was an interesting moment to us all, when the spires and
roofs of that ancient town, Albany, fi rst appeared in view! We
had journeyed from near the southern boundary of the colony, to a place that stood at no great distance from its frontier
settlements on the north. The town itself formed a pleasing
object, as we approached it, on the opposite side of the Hudson. There it lay, stretching along the low land on the margin of the stream, and on its western bank, sheltered by high
hills, up the side of which, the principal street extended, for
the distance of fully a quarter of a mile. Near the head of this
street stood the fort, and we saw a brigade paraded in the open
ground near it, wheeling and marching about. The spires of two
churches were visible, one, the oldest, being seated on the low
land, in the heart of the place, and the other on the height at
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