The Chainbearer; Or, The Littlepage Manuscripts Read online

  CHAPTER I.

  "The steady brain, the sinewy limb, To leap, to climb, to dive, to swim: The iron frame, inured to bear Each dire inclemency of air; Nor less confirmed to undergo Fatigue's faint chill, and famine's throe."--_Rockeby._

  My father was Cornelius Littlepage, of Satanstoe, in the County ofWestchester, and State of New York; and my mother was Anneke Mordaunt,of Lilacsbush, a place long known by that name, which still stands nearKingsbridge, but on the Island of Manhattan, and consequently in one ofthe wards of New York, though quite eleven miles from town. I shallsuppose that _my_ readers know the difference between the Island ofManhattan and Manhattan Island; though I _have_ found _soi-disant_Manhattanese, of mature years, but of alien birth, who had to be taughtit. Lilacsbush, I repeat therefore, was on the Island of Manhattan,eleven miles from town, though in the City of New York, and _not_ onManhattan Island.

  Of my progenitors further back, I do not conceive it necessary to saymuch. They were partly of English, and partly of Low Dutch extraction,as is apt to be the case with those who come of New York families of anystanding in the colony. I retain tolerably distinct impressions of bothof my grandfathers, and of one of my grandmothers; my mother's motherhaving died long before my own parents were married.

  Of my maternal grandfather, I know very little, however, he having diedwhile I was quite young, and before I had seen much of him. He paid thegreat debt of nature in England, whither he had gone on a visit to arelative, a Sir Something Bulstrode, who had been in the colonieshimself, and who was a great favorite with Herman Mordaunt, as mymother's parent was universally called in New York. My father often saidit was perhaps fortunate in one respect that his father-in-law died ashe did, since he had no doubt he would have certainly taken sides withthe crown in the quarrel that soon after occurred, in which case it isprobable his estates, or those which were my mother's, and are now mine,would have shared the fate of those of the De Lanceys, of the Philipses,of some of the Van Cortlandts, of the Floyds, of the Joneses, and ofvarious others of the heavy families, who remained loyal, as it wascalled; meaning loyalty to a prince, and not loyalty to the land oftheir nativity. It is hard to say which were right, in such a quarrel,if we look at the opinions and prejudices of the times, though theLittlepages to a man, which means only my father and grandfather, andself, took sides with the country. In the way of self-interest, it oughtto be remarked, however, that the wealthy American who opposed the crownshowed much the most disinterestedness, inasmuch as the chances of beingsubdued were for a long time very serious, while the certainty ofconfiscation, not to say of being hanged, was sufficiently wellestablished, in the event of failure. But my paternal grandfather waswhat was called a whig, of the high caste. He was made a brigadier inthe militia, in 1776, and was actively employed in the great campaign ofthe succeeding year--that in which Burgoyne was captured, as indeed wasmy father, who held the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the New York line.There was also a Major Dirck Van Volkenburgh, or Follock, as he wasusually called, in the same regiment with my father, who was a swornfriend. This Major Follock was an old bachelor, and he lived quite asmuch in my father's house as he did in his own; his proper residencebeing across the river, in Rockland. My mother had a friend, as well asmy father, in the person of Miss Mary Wallace; a single lady, wellturned of thirty at the commencement of the revolution. Miss Wallace wasquite at ease in her circumstances, but she lived altogether atLilacsbush, never having any other home, unless it might be at our housein town.

  We were very proud of the brigadier, both on account of his rank and onaccount of his services. He actually commanded in one expedition againstthe Indians during the revolution, a service in which he had someexperience, having been out on it, on various occasions, previously tothe great struggle for independence. It was in one of these earlyexpeditions of the latter war that he first distinguished himself, beingthen under the orders of a Colonel Brom Follock, who was the father ofMajor Dirck of the same name, and who was almost as great a friend of mygrandfather as the son was of my own parent. This Colonel Brom loved acarouse, and I have heard it said that, getting among the High Dutch onthe Mohawk, he kept it up for a week, with little or no intermission,under circumstances that involved much military negligence. The resultwas, that a party of Canada Indians made an inroad on his command, andthe old colonel, who was as bold as a lion, and as drunk as a lord,though why lords are supposed to be particularly inclined to drink Inever could tell, was both shot down and scalped early one morning as hewas returning from an adjacent tavern to his quarters in the "garrison,"where he was stationed. My grandfather nobly revenged his death,scattered to the four winds the invading party, and recovered themutilated body of his friend, though the scalp was irretrievably lost.

  General Littlepage did not survive the war, though it was not his goodfortune to die on the field, thus identifying his name with the historyof his country. It happens in all wars, and most especially did it oftenoccur in our own great national struggle, that more soldiers lay downtheir lives in the hospitals than on the field of battle, though theshedding of blood seems an indispensable requisite to glory of thisnature; an ungrateful posterity taking little heed of the thousands whopass into another state of being, the victims of exposure and campdiseases, to sound the praises of the hundreds who are slain amid thedin of battle. Yet, it may be questioned if it do not require more truecourage to face death, when he approaches in the invisible form ofdisease, than to meet him when openly arrayed under the armed hand. Mygrandfather's conduct in remaining in camp, among hundreds of those whohad the small-pox, the loathsome malady of which he died, wasoccasionally alluded to, it is true, but never in the manner the deathof an officer of his rank would have been mentioned, had he fallen inbattle. I could see that Major Follock had an honorable pride in thefate of _his_ father, who was slain and scalped by the enemy inreturning from a drunken carouse, while my worthy parent ever referredto the death of the brigadier as an event to be deplored, rather thanexulted in. For my own part, I think my grandfather's end was much themost creditable of the two; but, as such, it will never be viewed by thehistorian or the country. As for historians, it requires a man to besingularly honest to write against a prejudice; and it is so much easierto celebrate a deed as it is imagined than as it actually occurred, thatI question if we know the truth of a tenth part of the exploits aboutwhich we vapor, and in which we fancy we glory. Well! we are taught tobelieve that the time will come when all things are to be seen in theirtrue colors, and when men and deeds will be known as they actually were,rather than as they have been recorded in the pages of history.

  I was too young myself to take much part in the war of the revolution,though accident made me an eye-witness of some of its most importantevents, and that at the tender age of fifteen. At twelve--the Americanintellect ever was and continues to be singularly precocious--I was sentto Nassau Hall, Princeton, to be educated, and I remained there until Ifinally got a degree, though it was not without several long and rudeinterruptions of my studies. Although so early sent to college, I didnot actually graduate until I was nineteen, the troubled times requiringnearly twice as long a servitude to make a Bachelor of Arts of me aswould have been necessary in the more halcyon days of peace. Thus I madea fragment of a campaign when only a sophomore, and another the firstyear I was junior. I say the _first_ year, because I was obliged to passtwo years in each of the two higher classes of the institution, in orderto make up for lost time. A youth cannot very well be campaigning andstudying Euclid in the academic bowers, at the same moment. Then I wasso young, that a year, more or less, was of no great moment.

  My principal service in the war of the revolution was in 1777, or in thecampaign in which Burgoyne was met and captured. That important servicewas performed by a force that was composed partly of regular troops, andpartly of militia. My grandfather commanded a brigade of the last, orwhat was called a brigade, some six hundred men at most; while my fatherled a regular battalion of one hundred and sixty tr
oops of the New Yorkline into the German intrenchments, the memorable and bloody day thelast were stormed. How many he brought out I never heard him say. Theway in which I happened to be present in these important scenes is soontold.

  Lilacsbush being on the Island of Manhattan (not Manhattan Island, be italways remembered), and our family being whig, we were driven from bothour town and country houses the moment Sir William Howe took possessionof New York. At first my mother was content with merely going toSatanstoe, which was only a short distance from the enemy's lines; butthe political character of the Littlepages being too well established torender this a safe residence, my grandmother and mother, alwaysaccompanied by Miss Wallace, went up above the Highlands, where theyestablished themselves in the village of Fishkill for the remainder ofthe war, on a farm that belonged to Miss Wallace in fee. Here it wasthought they were safe, being seventy miles from the capital, and quitewithin the American lines. As this removal took place at the close ofthe year 1776, and after independence had been declared, it wasunderstood that our return to our proper homes at all, depended on theresult of the war. At that time I was a sophomore, and at home in thelong vacation. It was in this visit that I made my fragment of acampaign, accompanying my father through all the closing movements ofhis regiment, while Washington and Howe were manoeuvring inWestchester. My father's battalion happening to be posted in such amanner as to be in the centre of the battle at White Plains, I had anopportunity of seeing some pretty serious service on that occasion. Nordid I quit the army and return to my studies, until after the brilliantaffairs at Trenton and Princeton, in both of which our regimentparticipated.

  This was a pretty early commencement with the things of active life fora boy of fourteen. But in that war, lads of my age often carriedmuskets, for the colonies covered a great extent of country, and had butfew people. They who read of the war of the American revolution, andview its campaigns and battles as they would regard the conflicts ofolder and more advanced nations, can form no just notion of thedisadvantages with which our people had to contend, or the greatsuperiority of the enemy in all the usual elements of military force.Without experienced officers, with but few and indifferent arms, oftenin want of ammunition, the rural and otherwise peaceful population of athinly peopled country were brought in conflict with the chosen warriorsof Europe; and this, too, with little or none of that great sinew ofwar, money, to sustain them. Nevertheless the Americans, unaided by anyforeign skill or succor, were about as often successful as the reverse.Bunker Hill, Bennington, Saratoga, Bhemis's Heights, Trenton, Princeton,Monmouth, were all purely American battles; to say nothing of diversothers that occurred farther south: and though insignificant as tonumbers, compared with the conflicts of these later times, each isworthy of a place in history, and one or two are almost withoutparallels; as is seen when Bunker Hill be named. It sounds very well ina dispatch, to swell out the list of an enemy's ranks; but admitting thenumber itself not to be overrated, as so often occurred, of what availare men without arms and ammunition, and frequently without any othermilitary organization than a muster-roll!

  I have said I made nearly the whole of the campaign in which Burgoynewas taken. It happened in this wise. The service of the previous yearhad a good deal indisposed me to study, and when again at home in theautumn vacation, my dear mother sent me with clothing and supplies to myfather, who was with the army at the north. I reached the head-quartersof General Gates a week before the affair of Bhemis's Heights, and waswith my father until the capitulation was completed. Owing to thesecircumstances, though still a boy in years, I was an eye-witness, and insome measure an actor in two or three of the most important events inthe whole war. Being well grown for my years, and of a somewhat manlyappearance, considering how young I really was, I passed very well as avolunteer, being, I have reason to think, somewhat of a favorite in theregiment. In the last battle, I had the honor to act as a sort of_aide-de-camp_ to my grandfather, who sent me with orders and messagestwo or three times into the midst of the fire. In this manner I mademyself a little known, and all so much the more from the circumstance ofmy being in fact nothing but a college lad, away from his _alma mater_during vacation.

  It was but natural that a boy thus situated should attract some littleattention, and I _was_ noticed by officers, who, under othercircumstances, would hardly have felt it necessary to go out of theirway to speak to me. The Littlepages had stood well, I have reason tothink, in the colony, and their position in the new state was not likelyto be at all lowered by the part they were now playing in therevolution. I am far from certain that General Littlepage was considereda corner-post in the Temple of Freedom that the army was endeavoring torear, but he was quite respectable as a militia officer, while my fatherwas very generally admitted to be one of the best lieutenants-colonel inthe whole army.

  I well remember to have been much struck with a captain in my father'sregiment, who certainly was a character, in his way. His origin wasDutch, as was the case with a fair proportion of the officers, and hebore the name of Andries Coejemans, though he was universally known bythe _sobriquet_ of the "Chainbearer." It was fortunate for him it wasso, else would the Yankees in the camp, who seem to have a mania topronounce every word as it is spelled, and having succeeded in this, tochange the spelling of the whole language to accommodate it to certainsounds of their own inventing, would have given him a mostunpronounceable appellation. Heaven only knows what _they_ would havecalled Captain Coejemans, but for this lucky nickname; but it may be aswell to let the uninitiated understand at once, that in New Yorkparlance, Coejemans is called Queemans. The Chainbearer was of arespectable Dutch family, one that has even given its queer-looking nameto a place of some little note on the Hudson; but, as was very apt to bethe case with the _cadets_ of such houses, in the good old time of thecolony, his education was no great matter. His means had once beenrespectable, but, as he always maintained, he was cheated out of hissubstance by a Yankee before he was three-and-twenty, and he hadrecourse to surveying for a living from that time. But Andries had nohead for mathematics, and after making one or two notable blunders inthe way of his new profession, he quietly sunk to the station of achainbearer, in which capacity he was known to all the leading men ofhis craft in the colony. It is said that every man is suited to somepursuit or other, in which he might acquire credit, would he only enteron it and persevere. Thus it proved to be with Andries Coejemans. As achainbearer he had an unrivalled reputation. Humble as was theoccupation, it admitted of excellence in various particulars, as well asanother. In the first place, it required honesty, a quality in whichthis class of men can fail, as well as all the rest of mankind. Neithercolony nor patentee, landlord nor tenant, buyer nor seller, need beuneasy about being fairly dealt by so long as Andries Coejemans held theforward end of the chain; a duty on which he was invariably placed byone party or the other. Then, a practical eye was a great aid topositive measurement; and while Andries never swerved to the right or tothe left of his course, having acquired a sort of instinct in hiscalling, much time and labor were saved. In addition to theseadvantages, the "Chainbearer" had acquired great skill in all thesubordinate matters of his calling. He was a capital woodman, generally;had become a good hunter, and had acquired most of the habits thatpursuits like those in which he was engaged for so many years previouslyto entering the army, would be likely to give a man. In the course oftime he took patents to survey, employing men with heads better than hisown to act as principals, while he still carried the chain.

  At the commencement of the revolution, Andries, like most of those whosympathized with the colonies, took up arms. When the regiment of whichmy father was lieutenant-colonel was raised, they who could bring to itscolors so many men received commissions of a rank proportioned to theirservices in this respect. Andries had presented himself early with aconsiderable squad of chainbearers, hunters, trappers, runners, guides,etc., numbering in the whole something like five-and-twenty hardy,resolute sharpshooters. Their leader was made a lieutenant inconsequ
ence, and being the oldest of his rank in the corps, he wasshortly after promoted to a captaincy, the station he was in when I madehis acquaintance, and above which he never rose.

  Revolutions, more especially such as are of a popular character, are notremarkable for bringing forward those who are highly educated, orotherwise fitted for their new stations, unless it may be on the scoreof zeal. It is true, service generally classes men, bringing out theirqualities, and necessity soon compels the preferment of those who arethe best qualified. Our own great national struggle, however, probablydid less of this than any similar event of modern times, a respectablemediocrity having accordingly obtained an elevation that, as a rule, itwas enabled to keep to the close of the war. It is a singular fact thatnot a solitary instance is to be found in our military annals of a youngsoldier's rising to high command, by the force of his talents, in allthat struggle. This may have been, and in a measure probably _was_ owingto the opinions of the people, and to the circumstance that the serviceitself was one that demanded greater prudence and circumspection thanqualities of a more dazzling nature; or the qualifications of age andexperience, rather than those of youth and enterprise. It is probableAndries Coejemans, on the score of original station, was rather abovethan below the level of the social positions of a majority of thesubalterns of the different lines of the more northern colonies, when hefirst joined the army. It is true, his education was not equal to hisbirth; for, in that day, except in isolated instances and particularfamilies, the Dutch of New York, even in cases in which money was notwanting, were any thing but scholars. In this particular, our neighborsthe Yankees had greatly the advantage of us. They sent everybody toschool, and, though their educations were principally those ofsmatterers, it is an advantage to be even a smatterer among the veryignorant. Andries had been no student either, and one may easily imaginewhat indifferent cultivation will effect on a naturally thin soil. He_could_ read and write, it is true, but it was the ciphering under whichhe broke down, as a surveyor. I have often heard him say, that "if landcould be measured without figures, he would turn his back on no man inthe calling in all America, unless it might be 'His Excellency,' who, hemade no doubt, was not only the best, but the honestest surveyor mankindhad ever enjoyed."

  The circumstance that Washington had practised the art of a surveyor fora short time in his early youth, was a source of great exultation withAndries Coejemans. He felt that it was an honor to be even a subordinatein a pursuit, in which such a man was a principal. I remember, that longafter we were at Saratoga together, Captain Coejemans, while we werebefore Yorktown, pointed to the commander-in-chief one day, as thelatter rode past our encampment, and cried out with emphasis--"T'ere,Mortaunt, my poy--t'ere goes His Excellency!--It would be t'e happiesttay of my life, coult I only carry chain while he survey't a pit of afarm, in this neighborhoot."

  Andries was more or less Dutch in his dialect, as he was more or lessinterested. In general, he spoke English pretty well--colony English Imean, not that of the schools; though he had not a single Yankeeism inhis vocabulary. On this last point he prided himself greatly, feeling anhonest pride, if he did occasionally use vulgarisms, a viciouspronounciation, or make a mistake in the meaning of a word, a sin he wasa little apt to commit; and that his faults were all honest New Yorkmistakes and no "New England gipperish." In the course of the variousvisits I paid to the camp, Andries and myself became quite intimate, hispeculiarities seizing my fancy; and doubtless, my obvious admirationawakening his gratitude. In the course of our many conversations, hegave me his whole history, commencing with the emigration of theCoejemans from Holland, and ending with our actual situation, in thecamp at Saratoga. Andries had been often engaged, and, before the warterminated, I could boast of having been at his side in no less than sixaffairs myself, viz.. White Plains, Trenton, Princeton, Bhemis'sHeights, Monmouth, and Brandywine; for I had stolen away from college tobe present at the last affair. The circumstance that _our_ regiment wasboth with Washington and Gates, was owing to the noble qualities of theformer, who sent off some of his best troops to reinforce his rival, asthings gathered to a head at the North. Then I was present throughout,at the siege of Yorktown. But it is not my intention to enlarge on myown military services.

  While at Saratoga, I was much struck with the air, position anddeportment of a gentleman who appeared to command the respect, and toobtain the ears of all the leaders in the American camp, while he heldno apparent official station. He wore no uniform, though he wasaddressed by the title of general, and had much more of the character ofa real soldier than Gates who commanded. He must have been between fortyand fifty at that time, and in the full enjoyment of the vigor of hismind and body. This was Philip Schuyler, so justly celebrated in ourannals for his wisdom, patriotism, integrity, and public services. Hisconnection with the great northern campaign is too well known to requireany explanations here. Its success, perhaps, was more owing to _his_advice and preparations than to the influence of any one other mind, andhe is beginning already to take a place in history, in connection withthese great events, that has a singular resemblance to that he occupiedduring their actual occurrence: in other words, he is to be seen in thebackground of the great national picture, unobtrusive and modest, butdirecting and controlling all, by the power of his intellect, and theinfluence of his experience and character. Gates[1] was but a secondarypersonage, in the real events of that memorable period. Schuyler was thepresiding spirit, though forced by popular prejudice to retire from theapparent command of the army. Our written accounts ascribe thedifficulty that worked this injustice to Schuyler, to a prejudice whichexisted among the eastern militia, and which is supposed to have had itsorigin in the disasters of St. Clair, or the reverses which attended theearlier movements of the campaign. My father, who had known GeneralSchuyler in the war of '56, when he acted as Bradstreet's right-handman, attributed the feeling to a different cause. According to hisnotion of the alienation, it was owing to the difference in habits andopinions which existed between Schuyler, as a New York gentleman, andthe yeomen of New England, who came out in 1777, imbued with all thedistinctive notions of their very peculiar state of society. There mayhave been prejudices on both sides, but it is easy to see which partyexhibited most magnanimity and self-sacrifice. Possibly, the last wasinseparable from the preponderance of numbers, it not being an easything to persuade masses of men that they _can_ be wrong, and a singleindividual right. This is the great error of democracy, which fanciestruth is to be proved by counting noses; while aristocracy commits theantagonist blunder of believing that excellence is inherited from maleto male, and that too in the order of primogeniture! It is not easy tosay where one is to look for truth in this life.

  [Footnote 1: It may not be amiss to remark, in passing, that HoraceWalpole, in one of his recently published letters, speaks of a HoratioGates as his godson. Walpole was born in 1718, and Gates in 1728.]

  As for General Schuyler, I have thought my father was right in ascribinghis unpopularity solely to the prejudices of provinces. The Muse ofHistory is the most ambitious of the whole sisterhood, and never thinksshe has done her duty unless all she says and records is said andrecorded with an air of profound philosophy; whereas, more than half ofthe greatest events which affect human interest, are to be referred tocauses that have little connection with our boasted intelligence, in anyshape. Men feel far more than they reason, and a little feeling is veryapt to upset a great deal of philosophy.

  It has been said that I passed six years at Princeton; nominally, if notin fact; and that I graduated at nineteen. This happened the yearCornwallis surrendered, and I actually served at the siege as theyoungest ensign in my father's battalion. I had also the happiness, forsuch it was to me, to be attached to the company of Captain Coejeman's,a circumstance which clinched the friendship I had formed for thatsingular old man. I say old, for by this time Andries was every hour ofsixty-seven, though as hale, and hearty, and active, as any officer inthe corps. As for hardships, forty years of training, most of whi
ch hadbeen passed in the woods, placed him quite at our head, in the way ofendurance.

  I loved my predecessors, grandfather and grandmother included, not onlyas a matter of course, but with sincere filial attachment; and I lovedMiss Mary Wallace, or aunt Mary, as I had been taught to call her, quiteas much on account of her quiet, gentle, affectionate manner, as fromhabit; and I loved Major Dirck Follock as a sort of hereditary friend,as a distant relative, and a good and careful guardian of my own youthand inexperience on a thousand occasions; and I loved my father's negroman, Jaap, as we all love faithful slaves, however unnurtured they maybe; but Andries was the man whom I loved without knowing why. He wasilliterate almost to greatness, having the drollest notions imaginableof this earth and all it contained; was anything but refined indeportment, though hearty and frank; had prejudices so crammed into hismoral system that there did not seem to be room for anything else; andwas ever so little addicted, moreover, to that species of Dutchjollification, which had cost old Colonel Van Valkenburgh his life, anda love for which was a good deal spread throughout the colony.Nevertheless, I really loved this man, and when we were all disbanded atthe peace, or in 1783, by which time I had myself risen to the rank ofcaptain, I actually parted from old Andries with tears in my eyes. Mygrandfather, General Littlepage, was then dead, but government giving tomost of us a step, by means of brevet rank, at the final breaking up ofthe army, my father, who had been the full colonel of the regiment forthe last year, bore the title of brigadier for the remainder of hisdays. It was pretty much all he got for seven years of dangers andarduous services. But the country was poor, and we had fought more forprinciples than for the hope of rewards. It must be admitted thatAmerica ought to be full of philosophy, inasmuch as so much of hersystem of rewards and even of punishments, is purely theoretical, andaddressed to the imagination, or to the qualities of the mind. Thus itis that we contend with all our enemies on very unequal grounds. TheEnglishman has his knighthood, his baronetcies, his peerages, hisorders, his higher ranks in the professions, his _batons_, and all theother venial inducements of our corrupt nature to make him fight, whilethe American is goaded on to glory by the abstract considerations ofvirtue and patriotism. After all, we flog quite as often as we areflogged, which is the main interest affected. While on this subject Iwill remark that Andries Coejemans never assumed the empty title ofmajor, which was so graciously bestowed on him by the Congress of 1783,but left the army a captain in name, without half-pay or anything buthis military lot, to find a niece whom he was bringing up, and to pursuehis old business of a "chainbearer."