We come to a soft, clear night in the Indian summer-time of 1774--a night not to be forgotten while memory remains3 to me.
There was a grand gathering and ball at the Manor House of the Patroons, and to it I was invited. Cadwallader Golden, the octogenarian lieutenant-governor, and chief representative of the Crown now that Tryon was away in England, had come up to Albany in state, upon some business which I now forget, and he was to be entertained at the Van Rensselaer mansion4, and with him the rank, beauty, and worth of all the country roundabout. I had heard that a considerable number of invitations had been despatched to the Tory families in my old neighborhood, and that, despite the great distance, sundry5 of them had been accepted. Sir William Johnson had now been dead some months, and it was fitting that his successor, Sir John, newly master of all the vast estates, should embrace this opportunity to make his first appearance as baronet in public. In fact, he had arrived in town with Lady Johnson, and it was said that they came in company with others. I could not help wondering, as I attired6 myself, with more than ordinary care, in my best maroon7 coat and smallclothes and flowered saffron waistcoat, who it was that accompanied the Johnsons. Was I at last to meet Daisy?
Succeeding generations have discovered many tricks of embellishment and decoration of which we old ones never dreamed. But I doubt if even the most favored of progressive moderns has laid eyes upon any sight more beautiful than that which I recall now, as the events of this evening return to me.
You may still see for yourselves how noble, one might say palatial8, was the home which young Stephen Van Rensselaer built for himself, there on the lowlands at the end of Broadway, across the Kissing Bridge. But no power of fancy can restore for you--sober-clad, pre-occupied, democratic people that you are--the flashing glories of that spectacle: the broad, fine front of the Manor House, with all its windows blazing in welcome; the tall trees in front aglow9 with swinging lanterns and colored lights, hung cunningly in their shadowy branches after some Italian device; the stately carriages sweeping10 up the gravelled avenue, and discharging their passengers at the block; the gay procession up the wide stone steps--rich velvets and costly11 satins, powdered wigs12 and alabaster13 throats, bright eyes, and gems14 on sword-hilts or at fair breasts--all radiant in the hospitable15 flood of light streaming from the open door; the throng16 of gaping17 slaves with torches, and smartly dressed servants holding the horses or helping18 with my lady's train and cloak; the resplendent body of color, and light, and sparkling beauty, which the eye caught in the spacious19 hall within, beyond the figures of the widowed hostess and her son, the eight-year-old Patroon, who stood forth20 to greet their guests. No! the scene belongs to its own dead century and fading generation. You shall strive in vain to reproduce it, even in fancy.
The full harvest-moon, which hung in the lambent heavens above all, pictures itself to my memory as far fairer and more luminous21 than is the best of nowaday moons. Alas22! my old eyes read no romance in the silvery beams now, but suspect rheumatism23 instead.
This round, lustrous24 orb25, pendant over the Hudson, was not plainer to every sight that evening than was to every consciousness the fact that this gathering was a sort of ceremonial salute26 before a duel27. The storm was soon to break; we all felt it in the air. There was a subdued28, almost stiff, politeness in the tone and manner when Dutchman met Englishman, when Whig met Tory, which spoke29 more eloquently30 than words. Beneath the formal courtesy, and careful avoidance of debatable topics, one could see sidelong glances cast, and hear muttered sneers31. We bowed low to one another, but with anxious faces, knowing that we stood upon the thin crust over the crater32, likely at any moment to crash through it.
It was my fortune to be well known to Madame Van Rensselaer, our hostess. She was a Livingston, and a patriot33, and she knew me for one as well. "The Tories are here in great muster," she whispered to me, when I bowed before her; "I doubt not it is the last time you will ever see them under my roof. The Colonel has news from Philadelphia to-day. There is trouble brewing34."
I could see Colonel Schuyler standing35 beside one of the doors to the left, but to reach him was not easy. First I must pause to exchange a few words with Dominie Westerlo, the learned and good pastor36 of the Dutch church, of whose intended marriage with the widow, our hostess, there were even then rumors37. And afterward38 there was the mayor, Abraham Cuyler, whom we all liked personally, despite his weak leaning toward the English, and it would not do to pass him by unheeded.
While I still stood with him, talking of I know not what, the arrival of the lieutenant-governor was announced. A buzz of whispering ran round the hall. In the succeeding silence that dignitary walked toward us, a space clearing about him as he did so. The mayor advanced to meet him, and I perforce followed.
I knew much about this remarkable39 Mr. Colden. Almost my first English book had been his account of the Indian tribes, and in later years I had been equally instructed by his writings on astronomy and scientific subjects. Even in my boyhood I had heard of him as a very old man, and here he was now, eighty-six years of age, the highest representative in the Colony of English authority. I could feel none of the hostility40 I ought from his office to have felt, when I presently made my obeisance41, and he offered me his hand.
It was a pleasant face and a kindly42 eye which met my look. Despite his great age, he seemed scarcely older in countenance43 and bearing than had Mr. Stewart when last I saw him. He was simply clad, and I saw from his long, waving, untied44 hair why he was called "Old Silver Locks." His few words to me were amiable45 commonplaces, and I passed to make room for others, and found my way now to where Schuyler stood.
"The old fox!" he said, smilingly nodding toward Colden. "One may not but like him, for all his tricks. If England had had the wit to keep that rude boor46 of a Tryon at home, and make Colden governor, and listen to him, matters would have gone better. Who is that behind him? Oh, yes, De Lancey."
Oliver de Lancey was chiefly notable on account of his late brother James, who had been chief justice and lieutenant-governor, and the most brilliant, unscrupulous, masterful politician of his time. Oliver was himself a man of much energy and ambition. I observed him curiously47, for his mother had been a Van Cortlandt, and I had some of that blood in my veins48 as well. So far as it had contributed to shape his face, I was not proud of it, for he had a selfish and arrogant49 mien50.
It was more satisfactory to watch my companion, as he told me the names of the Tories who followed in Colden's wake, and commented on their characters. I do not recall them, but I remember every line of Philip Schuyler's face, and every inflection of his voice. He was then not quite forty years of age, almost of my stature--that is to say, a tall man. He held himself very erect51, giving strangers the impression of a haughty52 air, which his dark face and eyes, and black lines of hair peeping from under the powder, helped to confirm. But no one could speak in amity53 with him without finding him to be the most affable and sweet-natured of men. If he had had more of the personal vanity and self-love which his bearing seemed to indicate, it would have served him well, perhaps, when New England jealousy54 assailed55 and overbore him. But he was too proud to fight for himself, and too patriotic56 not to fight for his country, whether the just reward came or was withheld57.
Colonel Schuyler had been chosen as one of the five delegates of the Colony to attend the first Continental58 Congress, now sitting at Philadelphia, but ill-health had compelled him to decline the journey. He had since been to New York, however, where he had learned much of the situation, and now was in receipt of tidings from the Congress itself. By a compromise in the New York Assembly, both parties had been represented in our delegation59, the Whigs sending Philip Livingston and Isaac Low, the Tories James Duane and John Jay, and the fifth man, one Alsopp, being a neutral-tinted individual to whom neither side could object. The information which Schuyler had received was to the effect that all five, under the tremendous and enthusiastic pressure they had encountered in Philadelphia, had now resolved to act together in all things for the Colonies and against the Crown.
"That means," said he, "that we shall all adopt Massachusetts's cause as our own. After Virginia led the way with Patrick Henry's speech, there was no other course possible for even Jay and Duane. I should like to hear that man Henry. He must be wonderful."
The space about Mr. Colden had shifted across the room, so that we were now upon its edge, and Schuyler went to him with outstretched hand. The two men exchanged a glance, and each knew what the other was thinking of.
"Your excellency has heard from Philadelphia," said the Colonel, more as a statement of fact than as an inquiry60.
"Sad, sad!" exclaimed the aged61 politician, in a low tone. "It is a grief instead of a joy to have lived so long, if my life must end amid contention62 and strife63."
"He is really sincere in deploring64 the trouble," said Schuyler, when he had rejoined me. "He knows in his heart that the Ministry65 are pig-headedly wrong, and that we are in the right. He would do justice if he could, but he is as powerless as I am so far as influencing London goes, and here he is in the hands of the De Lanceys. To give the devil his due, I believe Sir William Johnson was on our side, too, at heart."
We had talked of this before, and out of deference66 to my sentiments of liking67 and gratitude68 to Sir William, he always tried to say amiable things about the late baronet to me. But they did not come easily, for there was an old-time feud69 between the two families. The dislike dated back to the beginning of young Johnson's career, when, by taking sides shrewdly in a political struggle between Clinton and De Lancey, he had ousted70 John Schuyler, Philip's grandfather, from the Indian commissionership and secured it for himself. In later years, since the Colonel had come to manhood, he had been forced into rivalry71, almost amounting to antagonism72 at times, with the baronet, in Colonial and Indian affairs; and even now, after the baronet's death, it was hard for him to acknowledge the existence of all the virtues73 which my boyish liking had found in Sir William. But still he did try, if only to please me.
As we spoke, Sir John Johnson passed us, in company with several younger men, pushing toward the room to the right, where the punch-bowl was placed.
"At least, he is no friend of yours?" said Schuyler, indicating the red-faced young baronet.
"No man less so," I replied, promptly74. Two years ago I doubt I should have been so certain of my entire enmity toward Sir John. But in the interim75 all my accumulating political fervor76 had unconsciously stretched back to include the Johnstown Tories; I found myself now honestly hating them all alike for their former coolness to me and their present odious77 attitude toward my people. And it was not difficult, recalling all my boyish dislike for John Johnson and his steadily78 contemptuous treatment of me, to make him the chief object of my aversion.
We talked of him now, and of his wife, a beautiful, sweet-faced girl of twenty, who had been Polly Watts79 of New York. My companion pointed80 her out to me, as one of a circle beyond the fire-place. He had only soft words and pity for her--as if foreseeing the anguish81 and travail82 soon to be brought upon her by her husband's misdeeds--but he spoke very slightingly and angrily of Sir John. To Schuyler's mind there was no good in him.
"I have known him more or less since he was a boy and followed his father in the Lake George campaign. The officers then could not abide83 him, though some were submissive to him because of his father's position. So now, fifteen years afterward, although he has many toadies84 and flatterers, I doubt his having any real friends. Through all these score of years, I have yet to learn of any gracious or manly85 thing he has done."
"At least he did gallop86 from the Fort to the Hall at news of his father's death, and kill his horse by the pace," I said.
"Heirs can afford to ride swiftly," replied the Colonel, in a dry tone. "No: he has neither the honesty to respect the rights of others, nor the wit to enforce those which he arrogates87 to himself. Look at his management in the Mohawk Valley. Scarce two months after the old baronet's death--before he was barely warm in his father's bed--all the Dutch and Palatines and Cherry Valley Scotch88 were up in arms against him and his friends. I call that the work of a fool. Why, Tryon County ought, by all the rules, to be the Tories' strongest citadel89. There, of all other places, they should be able to hold their own. Old Sir William would have contrived90 matters better, believe me. But this sulky, slave-driving cub91 must needs force the quarrel from the start. Already they have their committee in the Palatine district, with men like Frey and Yates and Paris on it, and their resolutions are as strong as any we have heard."
Others came up at this, and I moved away, thinking to pay my respects to friends in the rooms on the left. The fine hall was almost overcrowded. One's knee struck a sword, or one's foot touched a satin train, at every step. There were many whom I knew, chiefly Albanians, and my progress was thus rendered slow. At the door I met my kinsman92, Dr. Teunis Van Hoorn.
"Ha! well met, Cousin Sobriety!" he cried. "Let us cross the hall, and get near the punch-bowl."
"It is my idea that you have had enough," I answered.
"'Too much is enough,' as the Indian said. He was nearer the truth than you are," replied Teunis, taking my arm.
"No, not now! First let me see who is here."
"Who is here? Everybody--from Hendrik Hudson and Killian the First down. Old Centenarian Colden is telling them about William the Silent, whom he remembers very well."
"I have never heard any one speak of Teunis the Silent."
"Nor ever will! It is not my métier, as the French students used to say. Well, then, I will turn back with you; but the punch will all be gone, mark my words. I saw Johnson and Watts and their party headed for the bowl five-and-twenty minutes ago. We shall get not so much as a lemon-seed. But I sacrifice myself."
We entered the room, and my eyes were drawn93, as by the force of a million magnets, to the place where Daisy sat.
For the moment she was unattended. She was very beautifully attired, and jewels glistened94 from her hair and throat. Her eyes were downcast--looking upon the waxed floor as if in meditation95. Even to this sudden, momentary96 glance, her fair face looked thinner and paler than I remembered it--and ah, how well did I remember it! With some muttered word of explanation I broke away from my companion, and went straight to her.
She had not noted97 my presence or approach, and only looked up when I stood before her. There was not in her face the look of surprise which I had expected. She smiled in a wan98 way, and gave me her hand.
"I knew you were here," she said, in a soft voice which I scarcely recognized, so changed, I might say saddened, was it by the introduction of some plaintive99, minor100 element. "Philip told me. I thought that sooner or later I should see you."
"And I have thought of little else but the chance of seeing you," I replied, speaking what was in my heart, with no reflection save that this was our Daisy, come into my life again.
She was silent for a moment, her eyes seeking the floor and a faint glow coming upon her cheeks. Then she raised them to my face, with something of the old sparkle in their glance.
"Well, then," she said, drawing aside her skirts, "sit here, and see me."
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1
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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maroon
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| v.困住，使（人）处于孤独无助之境；n.逃亡黑奴；孤立的人；酱紫色，褐红色；adj.酱紫色的，褐红色的 | |
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palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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crater
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| n.火山口，弹坑 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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obeisance
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| n.鞠躬，敬礼 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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57
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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delegation
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| n.代表团；派遣 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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contention
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| n.争论，争辩，论战；论点，主张 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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deploring
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| v.悲叹，痛惜，强烈反对( deplore的现在分词 ) | |
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65
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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66
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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feud
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| n.长期不和；世仇；v.长期争斗；世代结仇 | |
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70
ousted
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| 驱逐( oust的过去式和过去分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
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71
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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72
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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73
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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75
interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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76
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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77
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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78
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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79
watts
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| （电力计量单位）瓦，瓦特( watt的名词复数 ) | |
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80
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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81
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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82
travail
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| n.阵痛；努力 | |
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83
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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84
toadies
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| n.谄媚者，马屁精( toady的名词复数 )v.拍马，谄媚( toady的第三人称单数 ) | |
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85
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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86
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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87
arrogates
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| v.冒称，妄取( arrogate的第三人称单数 )；没来由地把…归属（于） | |
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88
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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89
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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90
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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91
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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92
kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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93
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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94
glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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97
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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98
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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99
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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100
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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