This year (1757) was marked by an event that not only clouded the future life of madame, but occasioned the deepest concern to the whole province. Colonel Schuyler was scarcely sensible of the decline of life, except some attacks of the rheumatism, to which the people of that country are peculiarly subject. He enjoyed sound health and equal spirits, and had, upon the whole, from the temperance of his habits, and the singular equanimity of his mind, a more likely prospect of prolonging his happy and useful life, than falls to the lot of most people. He had, however, in very cold weather, gone to town to visit a relation, then ill of a pleurisy; and having sat awhile by the invalid, and conversed with him both on his worldly and spiritual affairs, he returned very thoughtful. On rising the next morning, he began the day, as had for many years been his custom, with singing some verses of a psalm in his closet. Madame observed that he was interrupted by a most violent fit of sneezing; this returned again a little while after, when he calmly told her that he felt the symptoms of a pleuritic attack, which had begun in the same manner with that of his friend; that the event might possibly prove fatal; but that knowing, as she did, how long a period^[14] of more than common felicity had been granted to their mutual affection, and with what tranquillity he was enabled to look forward to that event which is common to all, and which would be earnestly desired if withheld; he expected of her that, whatever might happen, she would look back with gratitude, and forward with hope; and, in the mean time, honour his memory, and her own profession of faith, by continuing to live in the manner they had hitherto done, that he might have the comfort of thinking that his house might still be an asylum to the helpless and the stranger, and a desirable place of meeting to his most valued friends: this was spoken with an unaltered countenance, and in a calm and even tone. Madame, however, was alarmed: friends from all quarters poured in, with the most anxious concern for the event. By this time there was an hospital built at Albany for the troops, with a regular medical establishment. No human aid was wanting, and the composure of madame astonished every one. This, however, was founded on hope; for she never could let herself imagine the danger serious, being flattered both by the medical attendants, and the singular fortitude of the patient. He, however, continued to arrange all things for the change he expected. He left his houses in town and country, his plate, and, in short, all his effects, to his wife, at her sole disposal; his estates were finally left to the orphan son of his nephew, then a child in the family; but madame was to enjoy the rents during her life.

His negroes, for whom he had a great affection, were admitted every day to visit him; and with all the ardour of attachment peculiar to that kind-hearted race, implored heaven day and night for his recovery. The day before his death, he had them all called around his bed, and in their presence besought of madame that she would upon no account sell any of them. This request he would not have made could he have foreseen the consequences. On the fifth day of his illness he quietly breathed his last; having expressed, while he was able to articulate, the most perfect confidence, in the mercy of the God whom he had diligently served and entirely trusted; and the most tender attachment to the friends he was about to leave.

It would be a vain attempt to describe the sorrow of a family like his, who had all been accustomed from childhood to look up to him as the first of mankind, and the medium through which they received every earthly blessing; while the serenity of his wisdom, the sweet and gentle cast of his heartfelt piety, and the equable mildness of his temper, rendered him incapable of embittering obligations; so that his generous humanity and liberal hospitality, were adorned by all the graces that courtesy could add to kindness. The public voice was loud in its plaudits and lamentations. In the various characters of a patriot, a hero, and a saint, he was dear to all the friends of valour, humanity, and public spirit; while his fervent loyalty and unvaried attachment to the king, and the laws of that country by which his own was protected, endeared him to all the servants of government; who knew they never should meet with another equally able, or equally disposed to smooth their way in the paths of duty assigned to them.

To government this loss would have been irreparable, had not two singular and highly meritorious characters a little before this time made their appearance, and by superiority of merit and abilities, joined with integrity seldom to be met with any where, in some degree supplied the loss to the public. One of these was Sir William Johnson, the Indian superintendent, formerly mentioned; the other was Cadwallader Colder, for a very long period of years, lieutenant governor, (indeed, virtually governor,) of New-York; who, in point of political sagacity, and thorough knowledge of those he governed, was fully capable to supply that place. This shrewd and able ruler, whose origin, I believe, was not very easily traced, was said to be a Scotchman, and had raised himself solely by his merit to the station he held. In this he maintained himself by indefatigable diligence, rigid justice, and the most perfect impartiality. He neither sought to be feared nor loved, but merely to be esteemed and trusted, and thus fixed his power on the broad foundation of public utility. Successive governors, little acquainted with the country, and equally strangers to business, found it convenient to leave the management with him; who confessedly understood it better than any one else, and who had no friends but a few personal ones, and no enemies but a few public ones, who envied his station. It was very extraordinary to see a man rule so long and so steadily, where he was merely and coldly esteemed; with so few of the advantages that generally procure success in the world, without birth or alliance; he had not even the recommendation of a pleasing appearance or insinuating address. He was diminutive, and somewhat more than high-shouldered. The contrast betwixt the wealth of his mind and the poverty of his outward appearance, might remind one of Æsop, or rather of the faithful though ill-shaped herald of Ulysses:

Thus it was with Colden. Among the number of governors who succeeded each other in his time, if, by chance, one happened to be a man of ability, he estimated his merit at its just rate; and whatever original measure he might find it necessary to take for the public good, left the common routine of business in the hands of that tried integrity and experience in which he found them; satisfied with the state and popularity of governor, on which the other had not a wish to encroach. Colden, however, enriched his own family, in a manner, on the whole, not objectionable. He procured from the successive governors various grants of land, which, though valuable in quality, were not, from the remoteness of their situation, an object of desire to settlers; and purchased grants from many who had obtained the property of them, among which were different governors and military commanders. He allowed this mine of future wealth to lie quietly ripening to its value, till the lands near it were, in process of time, settled, and it became a desirable object to purchase or hold on lease.