From New-York, the Chief made a trip through Connecticut and into Massachusetts, in the course of which he was well received, as appears from his own letter. At Northampton he purchased an elegant horse, which, greatly to his regret, sickened and died in Albany. [FN]
[FN] My venerable friend Douw Fonda, now of Albany, says Brant was an excellent horseman, and remarkably fond of fine horses. After the death of his Northampton horse he purchased another in Albany, to pay for which Mr. Fonda loaned Him the money. The note for the amount was promptly met at maturity.—Author.
It was during this visit in Albany, that he was again exposed to some danger, by threats against his life. The sufferers of the Mohawk Valley had neither forgotten nor forgiven the ravagers of their country in the Revolutionary war; and "the monster Brant" was still held responsible for every act, either of barbarity, or of death, or devastation, by the wonted usages of war. The Mohawk Germans of that day were neither educated nor discriminating; and knowing that Brant was the great leader of the Indians, they attributed every torch that had been applied, and every butchery committed, to his own single hand. Hence, as has been stated before, it was notoriously the purpose of many in the valley to take his life if possible, during some of his transits through that country. And it is not unlikely that some persons from the valley might have been watching for an opportunity to accomplish the purpose in Albany, as had been desired by a Mohawk German in New-York, during his visit in 1792.
Added to these unpleasant designs, was an incident coming somewhat nearer to the point of action, which is worth recording as an illustration both of history and character. In the account of the ravaging of Cherry Valley, the reader will doubtless recollect the massacre of the entire family of Mr. Wells, with the exception of John, then a lad at school in Schenectady. But that lad was now a member of the bar, of high spirit and uncommon promise. The tragedy by which his whole family had been cut off, had imparted a shade of melancholy to his character, deepening with the lapse of time, and descending with him to the grave. Nineteen years had elapsed since it was enacted; but there was a feeling in the breast of young Wells, which only wanted awakening by opportunity, to prompt a strong desire of avenging the foul murders. He happened to be in Albany during the visit of the Chief, and erroneously looking upon him as the author of the murders, his feelings by proximity became exceedingly bitter and exasperated. Indeed, he could not restrain his desire of revenge; and hastening to the tavern at which Brant had put up, he inquired furiously where he should find his enemy—declaring that he would slay him on the spot. Of course his friends remonstrated, and otherwise opposed his purpose; but it was not without difficulty that he was persuaded to forego it. Brant, hearing the disturbance, asked what caused it; and was told that a young man, whose father had perished at Cherry Valley, was below, and threatening to take his life. His answer was brief, and given with a remarkably fine assumption of dignity and composure. Not a feature changed—not a muscle of his countenance was seen to move—but, slightly drawing himself up as he sat, and his eyes glittering for an instant more keenly, even than was their wont, he said, calmly and quietly, "Let him come on;" and nothing more escaped him on the subject, until word was brought that Mr. Wells had left the house. [FN]
[FN] The particulars of this incident have been derived from William Inman, Esq. now of Leyden, N. Y. who was at the hotel at the time of its occurrence.
It was in consequence of these unpleasant indications that Governor Jay directed a guard to accompany him through the Mohawk Valley on his return to Upper Canada. But, notwithstanding these drawbacks to the pleasure of his visit in Albany, there were circumstances and incidents contributing to render it otherwise than disagreeable on the whole. He was hospitably received and entertained by some of the most respectable citizens; and during that and a subsequent visit, made to Albany in 1805 or 1806, had opportunities of meeting at the festive board some of the veteran officers of the American army, whom he had met in the field, or rather in the forest fights of the frontiers; on which occasions, with the best feelings possible, the old soldiers "fought their battles o'er again," as old soldiers are wont to do. Dining with General Gansevoort, the hero of Fort Stanwix, their conversation turned upon the memorable campaign of Sullivan, and the march of Gansevoort with his regiment at the close of that campaign, through the wilderness from Seneca Lake to Fort Schuyler. Although Gansevoort had no idea that Brant was nearer to him than Niagara, Brant assured him that he was hovering about him during the whole march; and was so near that, to use his own words, "I roasted my venison by the fires that you left." [FN]
[FN] Conversations of the author with Gen. Peter Gansevoort, of Albany, who was present at the dinner, though a lad at the time.