History is such a dull and disinteresting subject unless it is fleshed out with observations of those who lived and experienced the circumstances of the times. By personal observations, writers bring to life the people and events that shaped this country. Consider the writings of Mrs. Anne Grant in her memoirs. The purchase of New York's Manhattan from the Indians is the most that the typical student (myself included) knows about the history of this area. Anne Grant in her recollections of the events surrounding Margarita Schuyler was well received by the public when published in 1808, and republished in 1901. The book, reprinted in 1972, belongs in every library and should be familiar to all students of AmericanHistory as well as those with an interest in understanding how our country came to be settled.
Of course, New York's winters are bleak and harsh, and the residents, then as now look forward to the first signs of Spring. Mrs. Grant puts another face on the wonderment of the changing seasons with her description of the breaking up of ice on the Hudson River. "... I witnessed, for the last time, the sublime spectacle of the ice breaking up on the river; an object that fills and elevates the mind with ideas of power, and grandeur, and, indeed, magnificence; before which all the triumphs of human art sink into contemptuous insignificance. This noble object of animated greatness, for such it seemed, I never missed; its approach being announced, like a loud and long peal of thunder, the whole population of Albany were down at the river side in a moment; an if it happened, as was often the case, in the morning, there could not be a more grotesque assemblage. No one who had a nightcap on waited to put it off; as for waiting for one's cloak, or gloves, it was a thing out of the question; you caught the thing next you, that could wrap round you, and run. In the way you saw every door left open, and pails, baskets, etc., without number, set down in the street. It was a perfect saturnalia. People never dreamt of being obeyed by their slaves, till the ice was past. The houses were left quite empty: the meanest slave, the youngest child, all were to be found on the shore. Such as could walk, ran; and they that could not, were carried by those whose duty it would have been to stay and attend them. When arrived at the show place, unlike an audience collected to witness any spectacle of human invention, the multitude with their eyes all bent one way, stood immovable, and silent as death, till the tumult ceased, and the mighty commotion was passed by; then every one tried to give vent to the vast conceptions with which his mind had been distended. Every child, and every negro, was sure to say, "Is not this like the day of judgment?" and what they said every one else thought. Now to describe this is impossible; but I mean to account, in some degree, for it. The ice, which had been all winter very thick, instead of diminishing, as might be expected in spring, still increased, as the sunshine came, and the days lengthened. Much snow fell in February; which, melted by the heat of the sun, was stagnant, for a day, on the surface of the ice; and then by night frost, which were still severe, was added, as a new accession to the thickness of it, above the former surface. This was so often repeated, that in some years the ice gained two feet in thickness, after the heat of the sun became such, as one would have expected should have entirely dissolved it. So conscious were the natives of the safety this accumulation of ice afforded, that the sledges continued to drive on the ice, when the trees were budding, and everything looked like spring; nay, when there was so much melted on the surface that the horses were knee deep in water, while travelling on it; and portentous cracks, on every side, announced the approaching rupture. this could scarce have been produced by the mere influence of the sun, till midsummer. It was the swelling of the waters under the ice, increased by rivulets, enlarged by melted snows, that produced this catastrophe; for such the awful concussion made it appear. The prelude to the general bursting of this mighty mass, was a fracture, lengthways, in the middle of the stream, produced by the effort of the imprisoned water, now increased too much to be contained within their wonted bounds. Conceive a solid mass, from six to eight feet thick, bursting for many miles in one continued rupture, produced by a force inconceivably great, and, in a manner, inexpressibly sudden. Thunder is no adequate image of this awful explosion, which roused all the sleepers, within reach of the sound, as completely as the final convulsion of nature, and the solemn peal of the awakening trumpet, might be supposed to do. The stream in summer was confined by a pebbly stand, overhung with high steep banks, crowned with lofty trees, which were considered as a sacred barrier against the encroachments of this annual visitation. Never dryads dwelt in more security than those of the vine clad elms, that extended their ample branches over this mighty stream. Their tangled nets laid bare by the impetuous torrents, formed caverns ever fresh and fragrant; where the most delicate plants flourished, unvisited by scorching suns, or snipping blast; and nothing could be more singular than the variety of plants and birds that were sheltered in these intricate safe recesses. But when the bursting of the crystal surface set loose the many waters that had rushed down, swollen with the annual tribute of dissolving snow, the islands and low lands were all flooded in an instant; and the lofty banks from which you were wont to overlook the stream, wee now entirely filled by an impetuous torrent, bearing down, with incredible and tumultuous rage, immense shoals of ice; which, breaking every instant by concussion of others, jammed together in some places, in others erecting themselves in gigantic heights for an instant in the air, and seemed to combat with their fellow giants crowing on in all directions, and falling together with an inconceivable crash, formed a terrible moving picture, animated and various beyond conception; for it was not only the cerulean ice, whose broken edges combating with the stream, refracted light into a thousand rainbows, that charmed your attention, lofty pines, large pieces of the bank torn off by the ice with all their early green and tender foliage, were drove on like travelling islands, amid this battle of breakers, for such it seemed. ..."
Such is the style and substance of Mrs. Grant's writing. In the Midwest, we also experience such a moving experience each Spring. One need only look to the events at Grand Forks, North Dakota to see the way in which the annual rites are celebrated. And in Vermillion, South Dakota; the entire town was swept away in the breaking of the ice, the development of an ice jam and the attendant flooding (fortunately, the citizens of Vermillion had the good sence to move to higher ground in 1881, thus avoiding a repeat of the event.)
On pest and pestilence, Mrs. Grant had much to say. When one wonders how the natives and new immigrants coped with the hordes of insects that were quite at home in the swamps, forest and plains, Mrs. Grant has at least some of the answers. Consider, the Indians discovered tobacco. Now what does this have to do with insects, you may ask? The Indians discovered that tobacco smoke was quite effective in warding off the mosquitoes, gnats, flies and other insects, so they smoked! I find this most interesting as one of the few times that I have felt moved to smoking a cigar was when fishing in Florida at about dusk. The swarms of mosquitoes seemed to have a lesser vengance when exposed to the smoke of s Swisher Sweet. Or maybe the influence of the nicotine just made it appear so. In Mrs. Grant's day, the Indians also used bear grease to coat the skin, much like we use Off today. George Catlin, wrote of the use of grease but didn't, as Anne Grant did, mention the reason. In addition, the settlers appreciated the insect catching features of birds and welcomed them into their homes. She describes how the porches were built with provisions for the birds to nest along the breezeways, out of harms way but where they could aid in controlling the bugs. And, she notes how skulls of horses, cows and other animals were hung on fence post to provide nesting sites for the birds.
Recognizing that Mrs. Grant was not a naturalist or botanist like William Bartram, but she put a touch on history unlike the dry and jumbled rambling of Van Wyck Brooks, and the like. For another approach to the history of New York, one is invited to read Washington Irving's, Knickerbocker's History of New York. Irving puts a spin on the Dutch settlers and their way of coping with their experiences that is sure pleasure, tweaking the famous families as he goes. And one would be remiss to not mention John Richard Desborus Huggins diatribes on the descendants of the families in his "Hugginiana, or Huggins' Fantasy. If you don't call it history, perhaps it would be more fun to read and enjoy?
As with everything else, there is a flip side. Francis Trollope is another writer of later-day. She came to the United States in 1827 and after abortive attempts at business, left America and returned to England. There she achieved great fame for her writings, publishing in all some thirty four novels. This was no lady and certainly the "Continential" reader enjoyed here acerbic tongue as much as the distorted pictures she coloured of America. And in describing natures events, Trollope left much to be desired; she wrote of the breaking of the ice and it was as an inconvenience to her, not a passion of the season. Too bad her vision was so limited by her own "views" of how things should be. If you are so disposed you might read, "Domestic Manners and Customs of the American". Except for her description of the Nashoba Settlement outside of Memphis Tennessee, which was interesting because we lived near there at one time and traces of the settlement have been carefully erased. I found her to be a ner-do-well, a sponge, a malcontent, and more than a bit uppity.
*** Memories of an American Lady, with sketches of manners and scenes in America as they existed previous to the revolution. By Mrs. Anne Grant. Books for Libraries Press, reprinted 1972. ABOUT Joe Wortham