Notes From the Northern Department: Henry Knox, Philip Schuyler, and the Noble Train of Artillery

by Ian Mumpton 

Cambr Nov. 16 1775
You are immediately to examine into the state of the Artillery of this army & take an account of the Cannon, Mortars, Shels, Lead & ammunition that are wanting; When you have done that, you are to proceed in the most expeditious manner to New York; There apply to the president of the provincial Congress, ... & Get him to procure such [artillery and ammunition] as can possibly be had there.  After you have procured as many of these Necessaries as you can there, you must go to Major General Schuyler & Get the remainder from Ticonderoga, Crown point, or St Johns—If it should be necessary, from Quebec, if in our hands—the want of them is so great, that no trouble or expence must be spared to obtain them—I have wrote to General Schuyler, he will give every necessary assistance, that they may be had & forwarded to this place with the utmost dispatch—I have given you a Warrant to the paymaster General of the Continental army, for a Thousand Dollars, to defray the expence attending your Journey, & procuring these Articles, an Account of which you are to keep & render upon your return. Given under my Hand at Head Quarters at Cambridge this 16 day of November Annoque Domini 1775
Go: Washington
Endeavour to procure what Flints you can.

Henry Knox, 1784 portrait by Charles Wilson Peale

In late November, 1775, Colonel Henry Knox was dispatched to the Northern Department with orders to secure the artillery at Fort Ticonderoga for transportation to the siege of Boston, where, as Washington confided to Philip Schuyler on the 24th of December, “it is much wanting for the Works we have lately thrown up.” The proposed route was to follow the Hudson river south to Albany before cutting east across the Berkshire mountains. This winter journey would prove to be a test of the revolutionaries’ resolve and resourcefulness. The decision to attempt to haul artillery over rough terrain in the middle of winter might seem odd to modern readers, however despite the challenges, winter was actually the best time to haul heavy loads overland in the 18th century. In the winter months, frigid temperatures turned rough, muddy roads into hard-packed, snow-covered routes able to support heavy wagons or, even more efficiently, sleds. Knox expressed this to Washington in a letter sent from Fort George on the 5th of December:

I arriv’d here Yesterday & made preparation to go over the lake this morning but General Schuyler reaching here before day prevents my going over for an hour or two. He has given me a list of Stores on the other side from which I am enabled to send an Inventory of those which I intend to forward to Camp—The Garriso[n] at Ticonderoga is so weak, The conveyance from the fort to the landing is so difficult the passage accross the lake so precarious that I am afraid it will be ten days at least before I can get them on this side—when they are here—the conveyance from hence will depend entirely on the sleding—if that is good they shall immedia[tel]y move forward—without sleding the roads are so much gullied that it will be impossible to move a Step.
General Schuyler will do every thing possible to forward this business…

The first leg of the journey was by water from Ticonderoga to Fort George, with bateaux, scow, and pettianger (probably a pirogue or canoe-like vessel). This proved to be both arduous and dangerous, with the scow striking a rock and having to be raised from the lake. Twelve days after having sent his first letter from Fort George, Knox wrote to Washington from that site again on the 17th of December. Again, he stressed the necessity of good sleds to complete the journey:

1779 map by Claude Sauthier with modern highlight of
the route taken by the Noble Train of Artillery.

I returnd from Ticonderoga to this place on the 15th instant & brought with me the Cannon &c.... It is not easy to conceive the difficulties we have had in getting them over the lake owing to the advanced Season of the Year & contrary winds—three days ago it was very uncertain whether we could have gotten them over untill next Spring, but now please God they shall go—I have made forty two exceeding strong sleds & have provided eighty yoke of Oxen to drag them as far as Springfield… There will Scarcely be any possibility of conveying them from here to Albany or Kinderhook but on Sleds the roads being very much gullied—At present the sledding is tolerable to Saratoga about 26 Miles; beyond that there is none—I have sent for the Sleds & teams to come up & expect to begin to move them to Saratoga on Wednesday or Thursday next trusting that between this & that period we shall have a fine fall of Snow which will enable us to proceed further & make the Carriage easy—if that should be the case I hope in 16 or 17 days to be able to present to your Excellency a Noble train of Artillery…

In order to keep the artillery train moving, Knox rode on ahead to ensure that there would be enough sleds and beasts of burden to pull the guns through the snow. Knox reached Saratoga by Christmas day, from whence he proceeded a farther eight miles through heavy snowfall before stopping for the night. He resumed his journey the following morning:

In the morning the snow being nearly two feet deep we with great trouble reach’d about two miles we then procur’d Saddles & went to Stillwater, we got a Sleigh to go to Albany, but the roads not being broken prevented our getting farther than New City, about 9 miles above Albany, where we lodg’d. In the morning we sat out & got about 2 miles, when our horses tir’d and refus’d to go any farther. I was then oblig’d to undertake a very fatiguing march of about 2 miles on snow three feet deep thro’ the woods, there being no beaten path. Got to Squire Fisher’s who politely gave me a fine breakfast & provided me with horses which served me as far as Co. Schuyler’s, where I got a sleigh to carry me to Albany, which I reach’d about two o’Clock, almost perish’d with the Cold. In the afternoon waited on Gen’l Schuyler & spent the evening with him.

For the cold and weary Knox, the Schuyler home was a welcome respite. It is uncertain exactly how the Schuyler’s celebrated the holiday season, but they likely participated in the festivities of Twelfth Night, a popular tradition in the 18th century Hudson Valley. Even more welcome for Colonel Knox was Philip Schuyler’s assistance in organizing the transport of the artillery to Albany. Knox needed more sleighs, but was encountering problems from local contacts. A Mr. Palmer had sleds and oxen available, for a hefty price. Schuyler, being more familiar with the local economy and holding the authority that went with the rank of Major General, stepped in to the negotiations. On the 28th of December, Knox recorded in his diary that, "Mr Palmer Came Down, & after a considerable degree of conversation between him & General Schuyler about the price the Genl offering 18s. 9d. & Palmer asking 24s. p’ day for 2 Yoke of Oxen. The treaty broke off abruptly & Mr. Palmer was dismiss’d."

Compounding the problems, Knox further recorded that, “...the snow is too deep for the Cannon to set out, even if the Sleds were ready.” In the meantime, with negotiations stalled, Schuyler and Knox sought other means for acquiring the necessary sleds and draft animals. Schuyler, always the businessman, not only refused to pay Palmer’s high prices, but sought to hire other local residents and their sleds for half of Palmer’s price. Knox recorded in his journal that, on the 29th, Schuyler “...sent out his Waggon Master & other people to all parts of the Country to immediately send up their slays with horses suitable, we allowing them 12s. p’ day for each pair of horses or £7 p’ Ton for 62 miles.”

It is unclear who the “Waggon Master” refers to, but as mentioned in a previous article, many of the men enslaved by the Schuyler family were skilled at driving carts and sleds. As there is no surviving record of Schuyler hiring a wagon master, it is likely that this person was one of the enslaved servants, possibly Lisbon or a man named Lewis who, five months later, was lent to Benjamin Franklin as a driver for a trip from the Schuyler’s home to New York City. In either case, by the 31st, “...the Waggon master return’d the Names of persons in the different parts of the Country who had gone up to the lake with their horses in the whole amounting to near 124 pairs with Slays…”

Knox’s difficulties were far from over, however, as his appraisal of the sleds available indicated that they would not be strong enough for the heaviest cannon. Beyond this, there was still the difficulty of bringing the guns to Albany, which required four crossings of the Hudson River. Generally this could be accomplished by hauling the guns over the frozen river, but the heavy snowfall over Christmas was followed by a sudden thaw (turning the roads from snow-packed highways to slushy, muddy tracks) that made such crossing extremely risky. Despite efforts to thicken the ice at the crossings, one of the guns broke through the ice at the Halfmoon Ferry just north of Albany. While it was retrieved, this delayed the project. On January 5th, Knox wrote to Washington that although they had been able to move some of the artillery:

…a cruel thaw, hinders from Crossing Hudsons River which we are oblig’d to do four times from Lake George to this Town—the first severe night will make the Ice on the river sufficiently strong ’till that happens the Cannon & mortars must remain where they are most of them at the different crossing places & some few here—these inevitable delays pain Me exceedingly as my mind is fully sensible of the importance of the greatest expedition in this Case—In eight or nine days after the first severe frost they will be at Springfield from which place we can get them easily transported Altho there should be no snow—but to that the roads are So excessively bad Snow will be necessary… General Schuyler has been exceedingly assidious In this matter, as to myself my utmost endevers have been & still shall be use[d] to forward them with the utmost dispatch.

Schuyler likewise reported to Washington on the same day, saying, “The first of the Cannon arrived here on Wednesday & the whole is on Its Way, but detained by the Weakness of the Ice in Hudsons River, occasioned by the uncommon Mildness of the Weather for several Days past, one frosty Night if not deferred too long will however put Every Thing in Order...” Fortunately, the cold returned soon, and the great train of artillery was once more on the move. On the 7th of January another gun went through the ice, but was retrieved the following day with the assistance of “the good people of Albany”. Finally, on January 9th, Knox reported in his journal:

 Got several spare slays also some spare string of horses, in case of any accident. After taking my leave of General Schuyler & some other of my friends in Albany, I sat out from there about twelve o’Clock & went as far as Claverac, about 9 miles beyond Kinderhoock. I first saw all the Cannon set out from the ferry opposite Albany.

Knox’s journey would take a further eighteen days before the artillery train finally arrived at Cambridge. Organizational issues and bad weather had turned the projected two-week expedition into one of over ten weeks, but the guns were finally in place. Despite the difficulties, Knox retained some fond memories of the enterprise, especially of his time in Albany and with the Schuylers. On the 5th of January, in addition to his letter to Washington, Knox also wrote to his beloved wife, Lucy, describing the town of Albany and the Schuylers’ house:

Albany, from its situation, and commanding the trade of the water and immense territories westward, must one day be, if not the capital, yet nearly to it, of America. There are a number of gentlemen’s very elegant seats in view from that part of the river before the town, among them I think General Schuyler’s claims the preference; the owner of which is sensible and polite…

The same day, while waiting for the weather to turn cold enough to solidify the ice on the river crossings, Knox had also visited the Cahoes falls on the Mohawk River. His description of the natural splendor of this local wonder is simply too beautiful not to include:

Those stupendous falls, inferior to none except the except the Grand one of Niagara, are form’d by the whole body of the Mohawk River falling at one pitch from a perpendicular of eighty feet. It is the most superb & affecting sight I ever saw… The time I saw it was about 9 o’Clock in the morning, when the beams of the sun reflected on the whole Icy Scene around. Vast Icicles of twenty feet long and three or four feet thick hung in pendants from the neighboring rocks, which were form’d from the rain and melted snow falling from the neighboring heights, & and a very severe frost coming up which arrested the Water in its fall… It look’d like one vast torrent of milk pouring from a stupendous height. Its fall occasion’d a very thick mist to arise, which look’d like a shower of rain, & I was told that in Summer time a perpetual rainbow was to be seen here. After having gaz’d & wonder’d for a long time I return’d to Albany… not a little humbl’d by thoughts of my own insignifigance.

The Cohoes Falls in Winter

 The very best holiday wishes to all of our readers from Schuyler Mansion and Notes from the Northern Department. There are a few more posts going up before the new year, and 2017 will bring more historical excitement as well, so stay tuned as we continue to explore the history of the Schuyler family in 18th century Albany!

Mansion Myth Busters- Dead by Forty?

By Ian Mumpton

18th Century Memento Mori

Always a popular topic, this one was brought up last week by a visitor who asked us to tackle it in a post. So without further adieu, as requested...

The Myth: 18^th century people died young all the time. People born into the 18^th century were lucky to make it to the age of forty.

The Breakdown: On tours of Schuyler Mansion, many visitors express amazement at learning that Philip Schuyler died just three days before his 71^st birthday. “That was so old for the time!” Despite frequent attempts by historians and historical interpreters to dispel this myth, it clings on with a tenacity born of long tradition and the fact that the statement itself is correct; 18^th century people were lucky to make it to 40. While the numbers vary by region and decade, rough life expectancy in the 18^th century was approximately 40 years. This sounds pretty dire, especially considering that the average American life expectancy was over 78 years in 2012; nearly double that of our 18^th century forbearers. So what’s the catch? Is this a myth or not?

The myth lies in how people understand the statistics. A life expectancy of 40 doesn’t mean that 18^th century people had hit premature old age by their late 30’s, or that they were dicing with death every year after that point. Forty years was the average life expectancy of an 18^th century person at birth. Childhood, especially the first few months of infancy, was an incredibly dangerous time in a person’s life. Of the fifteen children born to Catharine and Philip Schuyler, seven died within their first year of life. Philip recorded the births, and all too often the early deaths, of his children in the family Bible:

1761 July the 29^th in the morning were born our fourth and fifth children[,] one a son and the other a daughter. The son died unbaptized, the daughter was named Cornelia. Witnesses Colonel John Bradstreet and Judah Van Renselaer. Baptized by Domine Eliardus Westerlo, on the 29^th of the following month this child died. The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh, Holy is the name of the Lord.

The 40-year statistic takes this high rate of infant mortality into account, resulting in a distressingly low expectancy to modern eyes. However, anyone surviving the dangers of childhood could, upon arriving at the threshold of adulthood, easily expect to live to the age of sixty or seventy provided illness didn’t cut their life short. It can be extremely difficult to interpret age and mortality in the 18^th century, but sometimes it can be enlightening to look in detail at a single family or household. To put this into perspective, let’s crunch some numbers for the Schuyler family, including Philip, Catharine, and their fifteen children.*

Let’s start with the ages of the Schuylers at the time of their deaths. Those who died at less than one year old are listed as age 0:

•          Philip- 70
•          Catharine (mother)- 69
•          Angelica- 58
•         Elizabeth- 97
•          Margaret- 42
•          Unnamed son- 0
•          Cornelia- 0
•          John Bradstreet- 0
•          John Bradstreet- 30
•          Philip Jeremiah- 67
•          Unnamed child- 0
•          Unnamed child- 0
•          Unnamed child- 0
•          Rensselaer- 74
•          Cornelia- 32
•          Cortlandt- 0
•          Catharine (daughter)- 76

        Cumulative age: 615 years.

Margaret Schuyler, miniature by James Peale
Painted seven years before her death at age 42 in 1801

The average age of the Schuyler family at the time of their deaths was approximately 36.2 years old. In addition to the seven infants who died in their first year, two of Philip and Catharine’s adult children predeceased them as well; John Bradstreet Schuyler and Margaret Schuyler van Rensselaer. In 1808 their daughter Cornelia likewise died of illness, just four years after her father, at the age of 32. However, Philip was nearly 71 when he died, Catharine was 69, and their daughter Elizabeth lived to the age of 97! While their average lifespan was just below the average life expectancy for the period, their ages at time of death varied greatly. Many died young, but three of their children could have looked back on their seventieth birthday by several years (twenty seven in Elizabeth’s case).

These numbers can tell us quite a bit. For example, to understand just how dangerous the period of infancy was, let’s remove the seven children who died in infancy from the equation. In this case, counting Philip, Catharine, and their eight adult children, the Schuyler lifespan rises dramatically to an average of 61.5 years. Again, this includes three individuals who died before the age of 40. While below the modern expectancy, 61 isn’t terrible for a family plagued by poor health, as the Schuylers were.

Angelica Schuyler Church and one of her children, accompanied
by a servant. While the painting title identifies the child as her
son Philip, it is possible that it is actually her son Richard. If so,
Richard died less than a year after the portrait was made.

That is not to say that child mortality is the only factor depressing the average life expectancy for the 18^th century, especially for women. Many people are aware of the dangers of childbirth in the early-modern era; one study of maternal death in childbirth for 16th-18th century England suggests an approximate rate of 27 out of 1,000. While the danger was statistically low for a single pregnancy, the high birth-rate of the time meant that many women ran this risk many times throughout their lives.  Pregnancy involving multiple children was significantly more dangerous, for both mother and child, yet Catharine Schuyler survived bearing twins and triplets. Sadly none of these children survived, however this further affects the numbers for the family. Had Catharine had single births for these pregnancies, even assuming that the children did not survive (which they may well have) the average lifespan of the family rises to the age of 47.3.

Status could also strongly affect a person’s life expectancy through factors such as nutrition, especially in childhood, and medical care. As much as 18^th century medicine is derided as being “backwards” and utterly lacking in scientific rigor, the century saw an incredible variety of new theories and approaches to treating illness. Philip Schuyler, one of the wealthiest merchants and land magnates in New York, had access to a whole slew of treatments, both traditional and cutting edge. This was partially due to his wealth, but also because of his connections and the time he was able to devote to “staying up” on the latest scientific developments. For example, while Schuyler did receive medical treatment in the form of bleeding, purgatives, laxatives, and diuretics, he also bathed in and drank mineral water from the High Rock Springs at Saratoga, was treated for fever with Peruvian Bark (from which we get quinine), and was on an early oxygen machine in the 1790s.

Catharine "Kitty" Schuyler, age 15, the youngest
child of the family. She lived to be 76 years old.

The purpose of this hypothetical number play is not to discredit the oft-quoted average life expectancy of 40 years, but to put it in the proper context. On its own, the statistic can be misleading, but it can be used to gain insights into larger patterns of 18^th century life when it comes to life-spans and mortality. It is true that a person born into the 18^th century would have to be lucky to make it to the age of 40, mostly because they’d have to be lucky simply to make it through the first few years. Even after reaching adulthood, illness could cut a person down in their prime more readily than is the case today. However, as we can start to see here, those whom fortune and situation steered through these troubles could look forward to a lifespan much more in line with modern averages than you might think.

Speaking of lifespans, Schuyler Mansion has been around for 251 years at this point (255 if you count its age from the start of construction), and by October of 2017 we will have been open to the public as a museum for 100 of those years! Check back regularly to see posts detailing all of the fascinating and exciting restoration taking place in preparation for the 2017 season.

Interested in learning more about historical life expectancy? This link provides an interactive graph of 19th-20th century life expectancy for men and women at various ages. While it does not cover the 18th century, it is still a neat opportunity to explore the past through numbers.

*At the moment there is not enough concrete information available to compare statistics for the enslaved population of the Schuyler household, however it is estimated that infant mortality was at least 50% higher for the enslaved than for free women. It is hoped that continued research will give us a clearer indication of the life spans and life expectancy of these individuals.

Mansion Mythbusters: Hamilton and Slavery Part II

by Danielle Funiciello

A couple weeks ago, we began a Mansion Mythbusters post about the myths surrounding Alexander Hamilton and slavery. We addressed the question “Did Hamilton participate in the institution of slavery?” If you missed that article, you can catch up here.

The Myth: Hamilton was a staunch abolitionist who did not condone the practice of slavery and never had enslaved servants himself.

The Breakdown: Today’s article will focus on the question: “Did Hamilton own slaves?” It will also answer the question: “Why do historians disagree on whether or not Hamilton owned slaves?”

This question – ‘did Hamilton own slaves?’ -  is a lot more complicated than the previous, and may not have a definitive conclusion. Later in this article, I will argue that he did, but other historians may argue otherwise. Both interpretation may be able to provide compelling reasoning.  Historians have worried at the topic for well over a hundred years. Visitors, understandably, wonder why historians are hesitant to give a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on Hamilton’s as an enslaver – with all of our research, wouldn’t it be obvious if he owned people? For many historians, this hesitance is an issue of historiography (the history of how history is recorded and told).

So today, in order to answer this question, we will be putting on our historiographer hat. Questions a historiographer looks at include:

•         Who is writing the history?
•         What are their beliefs?
•         What are their intentions?
•         What sources are they using or not using?
•         What sources are available to the writer and which have been lost?

In order to investigate these questions, a historiographer must go all the way back to the time the history was happening, and look even at the motivations of the people writing and saving the primary sources.

Alexander Hamilton was a prolific writer. He produced a LOT of primary sources during his lifetime, both official paperwork and personal letters. Luckily for historians, many of these writings have been preserved, in large part due to the efforts of Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, his wife. Hamilton’s writings on slavery, however, are limited, and the passionate abolitionist he is known to be has to be read between the lines. With this in mind, we could, envision a whole slew of possibilities with this information:

1. Hamilton did not write passionately about slavery/abolition because he was not passionate about slavery/abolition.
2. Hamilton did not write about slavery/abolition because, despite his passion, he did not want to get in trouble for an unpopular opinion (in which case, one would think that personal letters to those who shared his passion would show the passion that his public writings did not).
3. Elizabeth Hamilton, or another family member to whom the papers were passed, did not save Hamilton’s writings on slavery/abolition because they were deemed unimportant (unlikely, as America was then headed towards the Civil War and slavery was a clear and building issue from the start of the Revolution) or because they were lost.
4. Elizabeth Hamilton, or another family member to whom the papers were passed, intentionally discarded or destroyed Hamilton’s writings on slavery in order to alter the historical narrative.

Number four may sound like a rather shocking accusation, but within the 18^th-century, people showed a keen understanding that their letters and writings would be used to tell the history of the Revolution. Then, during the 19^th-century, people favored a nostalgic history of the Revolution - which not only saved face for the idolized founding fathers, but attempted to ignore the nation’s biggest issue- the continuation of slavery- in hopes of reconciling two sides of a country spiraling towards Civil War.

In the Hamilton family in particular, many historians already believe that Elizabeth intentionally removed a number of her own letters from the Hamilton narrative – some believe this was done to save Hamilton’s reputation from repercussions of his affair with Maria Reynolds. Other historians have pointed out that Elizabeth showed a certain discomfort with her writing in comparison to her husband’s, and perhaps sought to shield herself from potential public criticism (imagined or otherwise). Either way, it shows an effort on Elizabeth’s part to control public perception by altering what sources were available to future historians. The deliberateness in Elizabeth’s actions is confirmed by the fact that within her (very long) lifetime, she sought out historians to turn her husband’s papers, which she had meticulously collected, into a biographical work.

John Church Hamilton
by Alfred Thomas Agate

Beyond Elizabeth’s documented efforts to control what documents were preserved, some of those which have survived have been severely altered. Elizabeth was determined to see the work completed within her lifetime. When several historians that she commissioned failed to meet her rigorous deadlines, Elizabeth turned the papers over to her son, John Church Hamilton, who had studied history. It is unknown if Elizabeth gave all of the same papers to the other historians as she gave to her son, but it is widely believed to be John C.’s handwriting which strikes large chunks of Hamilton’s letters from history forever. In fact, there are a number of letters which can best be described as “mutilated” by his hand – chunks of the page blacked out with ink, or even specific words cut out of the paper. Given the zealousness with which he altered the evidence that has survived, it is extremely likely that John C. may have destroyed letters in their entirety as well.

So what was so important to delete from Hamilton’s papers? Given the context, many have pointed to the likelihood of homoerotic implication in letters to John Laurens being part of the cover-up. This is likely true – whether Hamilton actually had a homoerotic relationship, or whether John C. was just worried that the language would be interpreted that way. Either way, we now have a secondary confirmed effort to alter Hamilton’s historical reputation.

John Laurens (left) and Alexander Hamilton (right) both miniatures by Charles Wilson Peale.
John Laurens is also the person with whom Hamilton most frequently discussed slavery and abolition.

All this is to say; we know for certain that some elements of Hamilton’s writings were removed on moral grounds. Therefore, as slavery was highly unpopular on moral grounds by the time Elizabeth and John C. got ahold of Hamilton’s writings, it is possible that Hamilton’s surprising lack of writings on the subject stem from intentional removal.

Now, of course, a lack of passion in Hamilton’s private writing about slaves is not in itself evidence that he enslaved people, but it does begin to call into question the image of absolute moral opposition so often applied to him, opening the door for serious questions. There are some suspicious moments in Hamilton’s surviving writings and records that can be interpreted as evidence of slave-holding which require us to switch from historiographer into our linguistic analyst hat. In our last post on Hamilton and slavery, we have already established that Hamilton was involved in the purchase of enslaved servants for family members and clients. This time we will jump right into more explicit references, like Hamilton’s repeated references to his and his wife’s servants. Here are a few of many examples:

“I leave [my horse] in charge of Mr. Wallace as my servant will be too much employed while we stay to carry her to your Quarters.” - Alexander Hamilton to Clement Biddle, June 3^rd, 1779.

 "I wish to hire a couple of horses one for myself and one for my servant to cross the river at West Point with a guide to conduct us across the Mountain.”-  Hamilton to George Fisher, January 9^th, 1781

 “Cash paid for passages of yourself & servant […]” - Hamilton’s cash books, for Elizabeth’s travel, 1789

Linguistically, the word servant could be used in several ways during the late 18^th-Century. Firstly, it could be used to humble one’s self when signing a letter, as in “your Obed. servant, A.Ham”. This was done even when the person ranked below you. This was probably referential to the second use, which would have been for a public employee, as in “he was a servant of Congress” meaning he served in congress. Hamilton could have correctly used it in this way to refer to his position as a “servant of Washington” while he was aide-de-camp. Thirdly, servant could be used as a euphemism for an enslaved worker. It is extremely rare to see a free, white worker, or even a black freeman referred to using the general term “servant” at the time. Typically, such a worker would be referred to by a title – “miller”, “carter”, “courier”, etc – referring to the work they were doing at the time of hire. It was also, as mentioned earlier, exceedingly rare to hire free, white domestic workers – domestic workers being the type of people who would accompany upper-class people in their travels.

George Washington with some of his aides

-de-camp (LaFayette & Tench Tilghman).

While the men might have referred to

themselves as "waiters" or "servants" of

Washington, likely Washington did not.

It is possible that the first two references could be using “servant” in the second context, referring to a lower ranking person in the military who was assigned to serve Hamilton. However, the examples that we found of this within Washington's camps used the term "waiter", and it would have been uncommon (and in most cases a social faux-pas unlikely of Hamilton) to use this in reference to someone else. Calling one’s self a servant was deferential when done towards a superior, and humble when done towards someone of lower rank. Calling someone else a servant was pointing out the person’s relative station and degrading them. Unfortunately, enslaved people were not given the same considerations. While calling a free person a servant rather than by a job title was degrading, calling an enslaved person a servant was a step up from the less attractive truth of using the word “slave”. It is almost certain that the servant referenced travelling with Elizabeth was enslaved, as no other contemporary use of the word servant applies here.

More condemning still is this letter to George Clinton in 1781:

“For some time past I have had a bill on France lying in Philadelphia the sale of which has been delayed on account of the excessive lowness of the exchange. I am told it has lately risen something, and I expect by Col Hay’s return to receive a sufficient sum to pay the value of the woman Mrs. H had of Mrs. Clinton. I hope the delay may be attended with no inconvenience to you.

Sarah Cornelia Tappen Clinton,
wife of Albany Mayor, later Vice-
President George Clinton, from
whom Eliza Hamilton may have
purchased an enslaved person.

The “bill on France” mentioned here is not a political bill. It refers to a bill of sale bought by Hamilton – that is, someone likely owed Hamilton money and instead of paying him with US currency, they paid him with an owed debt from someone in France. Since French currency was not doing well, Hamilton sat on the amount until he could take advantage of a better exchange rate, likely hoping to make an additional profit on the initial sum owed him. It must be assumed that what Hamilton owes Clinton was a significant sum of money since he needed to wait until the bill was sold rather than paying from his military stipend. He will use the money to pay Clinton for “the value of the woman Mrs. H had of Mrs. Clinton”. “[H]ad of Mrs. Clinton” implies claim or ownership - that he took the person away from Mrs. Clinton. Since ‘in-house’ white servants as full-time employees were unlikely (if not unheard of) at the time, it is almost certain that this refers to an enslaved servant. If Elizabeth had only rented the labor of one of the Clinton’s slaves - a common source of additional income for those who owned skilled enslaved laborers – the common wording would have been “the wage of the woman” or “the services of the woman”. Instead he used “value”, implying all out purchase. The substantial sum requiring the bill further makes temporary labor or rental of services unlikely.

Though I am wary to rely on 19^th-century sources for 18^th-century history, there is one anecdotal comment worth considering here - Alexander Hamilton’s grandson Allan McLane Hamilton wrote in his biography of his grandfather that:

“It has been stated that Hamilton never owned a negro slave, but this is untrue. We find that in his books there are entries showing that he purchased them for himself and for others.”

He is referencing, in addition to some of the family purchases mentioned last week, a popularly cited cash book entry where Hamilton writes in “1796. Cash to N. Low 2 negro servants purchased by him for me, $250”. While I have not seen this particular document - “Cash Book, 1795–1804”- myself, there are several other references within Hamilton’s accounts and letters that refer to Nicholas Low, a merchant and co-founder of the city of Ballston Spa, making such purchases for Hamilton and those around him. Included in these is the slave purchased for Margaret (Peggy) Schuyler Van Rensselaer mentioned in our last article on the topic. Low is also, albeit coincidentally, mentioned in a 1795 letter from Philip Schuyler to Hamilton in which Schuyler writes: 

“The Negro boy & woman are engaged for you. I understand Mr. Witbeck has written you on the Subject and that he waits Your Answer finally to conclude the bargain.”

Thomas L. Witbeck was a landholder in Watervliet and an attorney for Stephen Van Rensselaer. From census records and other letters, we know that Witbeck both owned and sold slaves to other people throughout the 1790s. The second line in this letter makes it clear that Schuyler is asking Hamilton to confirm a purchase of two enslaved workers that had been arranged for him in the Albany area. Other payments discussed in this August letter (for a land purchase arranged through Low) do not make it into account books until December of 1795. Assuming that “Cash to N. Low 2 negro servants” is quoted correctly as coming directly after the year – 1796 - it is likely that this was an early submission to that year – perhaps payments finally being entered for these arrangements made in August.

Whether or not Hamilton owned slaves, it is certain that he was active as an abolitionist. If for no other reason, he saw abolition as militarily or politically advantageous over the years. Certainly if he owned slaves, as I believe these sources prove, this would put him more on par with his fellow founding fathers, many of whom walked the crooked line between owning slaves and supporting abolition to a variety of extents. We will delve into how radical (or not) Hamilton’s writings on abolition were in comparison with his peers next time, but in the meantime, since this topic is one still debated by historians – what do you think, readers? Is this evidence enough? Have you seen other references that help or hinder the argument? Comment here or on Facebook to let us know.

As always, keep an eye on Facebook and Twitter for blog updates, special events, and tour information. Schuyler Mansion will reopen for public tours mid-May, but we hope to give you lots to think about in the meantime!

“I desire you would remember the ladies…”: Angelica Schuyler, Mary Watts Johnson, and Military Intelligence

by Ian Mumpton and Danielle Funiciello

Abigail Adams wrote the title line of this post as a reminder to her husband that, “If particular care and attention is not paid to the ladies, we are determined to foment a rebellion, and will not hold ourselves bound by any laws in which we have no voice or representation.” In this case, it is a good reminder to historians when considering many aspects of the American Revolution. With few exceptions, the prominent women of the Revolution are mostly remembered today for the moral support they gave to the men in their lives. From Martha Washington to Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, these Founding Ladies are cast in the image of the Republican Mother. This role, however, while important, is far from the full story. In this post we will look at the work of two women, Angelica Schuyler Church, a Revolutionary, and Mary Watts Johnson, a Loyalist, both of whom engaged in the collection and transmission of important intelligence during the war.

Angelica Schuyler

On July 4th, 1776, twenty year old Angelica Schuyler wrote to her father, Philip Schuyler, who had just left Albany for Crown Point. The Schuylers’ frequent correspondence helped to keep family members close, even when they were separated by long distances. However, rather than simply regaling her father with news of day-to-day life or social interactions, it seems that Angelica Schuyler had taken on the role of collecting and transmitting military news and intelligence. In fact, her letter, as short as it is, contains vital information about all three fronts of the war in New York:

My Dear Papa, 

Time Passes very heavily here, we hear no news from the Army at Isle aux Noir [Noix] and the idea of a ministerial fleet is lost in our disgust of American perfidy. Mr. Matthews is condemned; and Wallace, Jones and Beach are confined; The fleet were to have attacked the city on the day on which the conspirators were to have assassinated our Worthy Generals. 

There is no more news; and what you will hear in the future I hope will be favourable to our Cause. 

Mama desires her love her Children join her in that request; adieu my dear papa I am with affection your                                                                                

                                                        Dutiful child Ange: Schuyler 

There has been a report in town that Sir John Johnson was dead, some person had told Lady Johnson and made her very unhappy; I desired a lady to tell her that he was not dead, but made no mention my name as I should not wish her to imagine herself under obligation to me; for that was only an act of humanity; if you approve of this I shall applaud myself for it; if not my future conduct must be improved by your example.

The first information which Angelica reported to her father was actually lack of news. Philip had left Albany for Crown Point at this time (he would arrive the day after this letter was sent) where he expected to meet General Sullivan with the troops under his command. Sullivan and Schuyler had been locked in a stalemate for the past week over Sullivan’s decision to encamp his troops at Isle aux Noix, north of Lake Champlain, rather than pulling them farther south where Philip felt them to be more secure. On the 25th of June (in a letter marked as being written at “1 O’clock A.M.”), Schuyler had written to Washington, saying:

Your Excellency will observe that General Sullivan intimates that farther than the Isle aux Noix he could not retreat without your Excellency’s or my Orders …I do not hesitate to say that I wish he had retreated, at least as far South as point au Fere or Isle la mott, as I am afraid that the Enemy will throw themselves between him and the broad part of Lake Champlain and render it extremely difficult, if not impossible to send on a Supply of provisions, as they can with light Cannon and even Wall pieces command the Waters from Shore to Shore in most places, for six Miles South of Isle au Noix and in many even with Musquetry.…I should not send [my orders] for a farther Retreat untill your pleasure could be known; but I trust I shall be justified in doing it, and yet I believe the Order will meet the Army on this Side of Isle au Noix.

A map of the border between Crown-controlled Canada
and the thirteen Revolutionary-controlled colonies.

Despite receiving Washington’s assent and a letter from Sullivan indicating his intention to give in to the opinions of his subordinate officers, as of July 4th, Angelica- who had remained in Albany- reported to her father that no word had as yet been received there of Sullivan having begun his withdrawal, an issue which she was well aware would have been pressing on her father’s mind and which she took it upon herself to keep him apprised of.

After reporting on events in the North, Angelica next turned to a different front of the war effort, New York City, which was still reeling from the discovery of a Loyalist conspiracy which included plans to support a British invasion of New York by abducting (or, according to Revolutionary sources, assassinating) Washington and by sabotaging Revolutionary military infrastructure in the region. According to Angelica, “Mr. Matthews is condemned; and Wallace, Jones and Beach are confined; The fleet were to have attacked the city on the day on which the conspirators were to have assassinated our Worthy Generals.”  The reference is brief, mostly rumors coming out of New York, but Philip Schuyler was well aware of the importance of rumor, whether confirmed or spurious. Angelica’s report of the situation in New York neatly summarized the available intelligence. Only a week before, Thomas Hickey, a soldier on Washington’s Life Guard, had been executed for his role in the plot. The effect to the collective psyche of the Revolutionaries is evidenced by Angelica’s assertion that the British fleet was expected imminently, and had originally been assumed to be due to arrive in coordination with the plot.

The “ministerial fleet” was not far off at all. On the 11th of July- five days after Angelica’s report- Washington wrote to Philip Schuyler with the following intelligence:

Since my last General Howe’s Fleet from Halifax has arrived, in Number about 130 Sail. His Army is between 9 & 10 Thousand, being Joined by some of the Regiments from the West Indies, & having fallen in with Part of the Highland Troops in his Passage. He has landed his Men on Staten Island, which they Mean to secure, & is in daily Expectation of the Arrival of Lord Howe with one hundred & fifty Ships with a large & powerfull Reinforcemnt.

A 19th century image of the British fleet gathering off NYC in the Summer of 1776.

Having relayed the available military information, Angelica closed her letter with a brief personal touch, passing along the love and well wishes of the family. Below her signature, however, she added a post-script that, at first reading, appears to be purely social and personal in nature:

There has been a report in town that Sir John Johnson was dead, some person had told Lady Johnson and made her very unhappy; I desired a lady to tell her that he was not dead, but made no mention my name as I should not wish her to imagine herself under obligation to me; for that was only an act of humanity; if you approve of this I shall applaud myself for it; if not my future conduct must be improved by your example.

Under closer examination, this addition to the letter not only contains information about local rumor, but reveals Angelica as a young woman attempting to navigate the diverse demands placed on her. Lady Mary Watts Johnson was the young wife of Sir John Johnson, the son and heir of Sir William Johnson and lord of Johnstown and Johnson Hall, located on the western frontier of New York. Mary Johnson had also been Philip Schuyler’s prisoner since May, 1776, when he sent a force of soldiers to attempt to take John Johnson (then under parole) into custody as a threat to the Revolutionary movement in New York. While John Johnson escaped to Canada - accompanied by many of his tenants, who had no wish to be imprisoned in Albany themselves as Schuyler intended - Mary was pregnant, and already had two toddlers, making it impossible for her to escape with him. She therefore remained behind at the family’s home where she was captured by Revolutionary troops under the command of Col. Dayton. After being temporarily placed under armed guard in her home, Mary had been moved to house arrest in Albany, where she was living at the time of Angelica’s letter.

Angelica apparently felt that social expectations (and human decency) required her to communicate with her father’s prisoner to dispel rumors of her husband’s death; however she was also aware that her interactions, and more generally her father’s position in regards to Mary Johnson, required careful handling. On the one hand, while a prisoner and a loyalist, Mary Johnson was family; she and Philip Schuyler were first-cousins once removed. At twenty-three she was also an expectant mother with young children already in her care who now believed herself to be widowed. On the other hand, Philip considered her too dangerous to release, and hoped that her position as a hostage in Albany would induce her husband (whom he knew to be alive in Canada) to abstain from using his influence with the Six Nations of the Haudenosaunee to threaten Revolutionary interests and settlements in Tryon County and Albany.

Schuyler was right to be apprehensive of Mary Watts Johnson. In fact, he seems to have underestimated her. After John Johnson’s escape to Canada, just days ahead of Schuyler’s soldiers, Lady Johnson arranged for supplies to meet him en route to Canada.  Philip was concerned that, if freed, she could pass information on to her husband in Canada, but even as a captive, Mary did carry on clandestine communications with her husband. Further, she was able to use the obvious discomfort of her captors to her advantage. She was, after all, a member of one of the most powerful families in New York, a mother with her third child on the way, and a relative of the commander of the Northern Department. To top it all off, the fact that she was a young woman of high class made her status as a prisoner awkward; as men conditioned to be deferential to such a lady, how were they to interact with her as a prisoner, especially with no proof of her involvement in her husband’s “nefarious” activities?

Lady Mary Watts Johnson

This discomfort resulted in a surprisingly lax watch being kept over Mary and her family. After Johnson Hall was occupied by soldiers under Col. Dayton, a Capt. Bloomfield was sent to inform her that she was to be removed to Albany and her home searched, at which news she burst into tears to such a degree that Bloomfield, “…thought it proper to leave her alone.” While there is no reason to doubt that the stress and anxiety of the situation elicited a genuine emotional response, in this case, there is speculation from historians that Lady Johnson may have used the opportunity to hide some of her husband’s documents. This was not the only time that Bloomfield and his troops left Mary Johnson without a close watch. She was again given a surprising amount of distance when her escort stopped in Schenectady, where she apparently was able to meet with a number of leading loyalists- whom Bloomfield describes as "...a pack of Tories,"- from the surrounding area. Again, Bloomfield and his troops were uncertain to what degree they could restrict her activities beyond bringing her to Albany. When the party was waylaid by loyalists on the road, Mary Johnson and her retinue managed to ride on ahead a good distance before Bloomfield and his men could catch up.

After arriving in Albany, Mary Johnson became an even more persistent thorn in Schuyler’s side. During her time in Albany, she was able to continue correspondence with her husband through a network of Native American and White couriers, through whom she was able to share information about Revolutionary activity in Albany. She was also able to keep her family apprised of her own precarious situation. As a hostage meant to insure the good behavior of her husband, Mary was living with an inherent threat over her head. According to Mary, Philip Schuyler threatened on at least two occasions to turn her over, “to the enraged populace” at the first sign of British movement against Albany. Finally, in 1777, after Philip Schuyler turned her charge over to the Albany Committee of Safety (who in turn attempted to send her to the Tryon County Committee only to be rebuffed), and after the birth of her third child, Mary Johnson received permission to travel with her family to Fishkill to petition for parole. While her parole was denied, she, her three infant children, her sister, a nurse, and two servants escaped from that place in disguise, travelling over seventy miles in the middle of February, and crossing into British lines just outside of NYC where she was reunited with John Johnson.

As Linda K. Kerber wrote on the subject of women during the Revolution, “…there were at least two wars, a men’s war and a women’s war (just as there was a soldier’s war and a civilian’s war).”  While they devoted their efforts to opposing causes and found themselves in very different situations, Angelica Schuyler and Mary Johnson are evidence of this. Despite the fact that military matters were the prerogative of the masculine world, the correspondence of both women reveal an ability and willingness to wade into that world when the situation called for it. Mary Johnson did not necessarily choose to become adept at managing clandestine correspondence, or to coordinate a seventy mile escape in the middle of the winter with her children at her side, but when the situation of her captivity, threats to herself and her family, and the exigencies of war called for it, she was able to use her established position as an upper-class women to outmaneuver her captors while assisting her husband’s efforts against the rebellion.

Angelica Schuyler, on the other hand, seems to have actively pursued her role. The letter to her father cited above reveals her to be a young woman eager to use her sharp intellect and ability to gauge situations and people in the service of the Revolution. Her writing makes no apology for a lack of concern for domestic topics; instead she turns with enthusiasm and strong language to extremely specific military news. Even in the uncertainty of the post-script regarding Mary Johnson, Angelica Schuyler reports taking independent action on a matter of importance, writing only that “…if you approve of this I shall applaud myself for it; if not my future conduct must be improved by your example.”

While these women are strong examples, it would be a mistake to assume that they are special exceptions in history. Abigail Adams asked her husband to “remember the ladies” because the actions of ladies were not often remembered at that time. We must also do some remembering. We must remember that our history of women in the Revolution was first written by men in (and shortly after) the Revolution. It was based on the ideals of the time, and these ideals did not take into account that these women were at war, just as their husbands and fathers were at war. Women like Mary Johnson may not have chosen the path of most resistance if it was not forced upon them; others, like Angelica Schuyler, actively pursued a level of involvement at a time of peril. Either way, the results of the war affected them as much as it did the men in their lives, and many women worked within the social structures of their time to fight their own war.

Looking to delve deeper into the history of these Revolutionary ladies? There’s no better place to start than Schuyler Mansion, home to a fascinatingly diverse group of women over the years. We will open again for regular visitation in May, but check out the Friends of SchuylerMansion website, our NYS Parks page, and our Facebook page for more information about upcoming events and tour times. For further reading, check out Linda K. Kerber's Women of the Republic: Intellect and Ideology in Revolutionary America at your local library. Mary Watts Johnson's appeal to George Washington is preserved in the library of Congress and can be read online here.

Who Were "The Servants"? Lisbon, Dick, and Bob

by Ian Mumpton

Sir-                                                                                                                             Dec. 27 1771
The horse sleds have drawn thirty four pieces of pitch pine timber since you left this. Lisbon Dick and & Bob have cut them, they have Also cut twenty large pitch pine logs… I am this Day going with the three Horse sleds to the Mill at Batskill to Ride Logs there… The ice has broke the upper flud [sic] Gates of the Mill Race but has done no Damage to the Race. Neither Grist Mill nor Saw Mill Gone any since Saturday Last on account of the Cold…                                                        I am Sir your Hlb Serv                                                                                 Ph Lansingh

In addition to his land speculation and the management of his farming property in Albany and Saratoga, Philip Schuyler derived a significant income from the operation of grist, flax, and lumber mills at his Saratoga estate, the refined output of which was sold at good profit in New York City and the sugar-producing islands of Jamaica and Antigua. The above letter, written by Philip’s overseer Philip Lansingh, reveals that men enslaved by the family were tasked with supplying the sawmill with cut timber.

Philip Schuyler's Mills at Saratoga,
from Benjamin Lossing's Pictorial Field Book of the American Revolution

Three men are mentioned by name, Bob, Dick, and Lisbon. While the specific details of the lives of the enslaved are often lost to history, there are enough references to these individuals in Schuyler’s papers that we can begin to restore a few glimpses of their identities.

For example, at some point in the last weeks of December 1771, these three men were sent out from the Schuyler’s Saratoga estate to cut timber. It was a cold day, based on Lansingh’s descriptions of ice damage to the mills, with at least enough snow on the ground to warrant the use of horse-drawn sleds. Fortunately for Dick and Bob, they had newly soled shoes to protect against the snow; both men are listed in a family business receipt for shoe repairs dated December 16^th of that year. It is not clear why Lisbon did not receive new shoes or shoe repairs at that time. Perhaps his shoes were deemed to be in good enough condition at the time as to not need repairs.

The trees that they had been sent to cut were Pitch Pine. Pitch Pine was sought after for a variety of uses, principally for construction as the pitch from whence it derived its name provided lasting protection against damp conditions. However, it can be difficult to harvest for timber as the trunk rarely runs in long, straight sections suitable for milling (largely due to the tree’s ability to grow in poor, sandy soil and to send out new shoots if the main trunk is damaged). Despite this, Lisbon, Dick, and Bob were able to cut thirty four sections suitable for milling, as well as a number of large logs. These logs were probably sections too knotted or bent for milling, but which could be turned into firewood; an ever-necessary commodity.

It is possible that these same men not only cut the wood, but brought it to the mill themselves. With the ground frozen solid and snowed over, large horse-drawn sleds were used to transport the timber. While Lansingh does not specify who actually drove the sleds, Lisbon and Dick are both mentioned in other Schuyler documents as carters or wagoners, conveying goods and people for the Schuyler family. Lisbon in particular is mentioned in at least four other sources, always in regards to his driving goods back and forth between Albany and Saratoga. These men’s ability to drive carts and sleds was a large part of their value to the Schuylers, as this was a specialized skill-set that involved being able to work with draft animals, manage tack and harness, and maintain the carts and sleds in their charge.

Lansingh’s letter to Schuyler, while brief and focused on reporting mill activity, offers a surprisingly specific look into the daily lives of Dick, Bob, and Lisbon. Bob unfortunately seems to disappear from the historical record after this letter. Dick and Lisbon however can be traced a bit farther. As mentioned, both are referenced as driving carts for the Schuyler family over the years. Dick was still enslaved by the Schuylers in 1787 when it appears that he suffered from a prolonged illness for which he was treated three different times by Dr. Samuel Stringer, who prescribed the patented cure-all of Turlington’s Balsam. He also disappears from the historical record at this point, and it is unclear whether he recovered from his illness. Lisbon seems to have been transferred to Philip Schuyler’s oldest son, John Bradstreet Schuyler, in 1787 when Philip gave his son control of the Saratoga estate, but reverted to Schuyler’s possession upon the death of young “Johnny” in 1795. He is last referenced on January 18^th, 1796, twenty five years after the letter from Philip Lansingh.

Stay tuned as we continue our efforts to uncover the lives and the identities of the approximately thirty people of African descent who made up the enslaved “servants” of the Schuyler family. Want to learn about other aspects of the Schuyler family history as well? Check out our other series on this blog as we explore Philip Schuyler’s military career, share information on site collection objects, parse out fact from fiction with Mansion Mythbusters, and document all of the exciting restoration work currently taking place at the site. Next on the docket: Part Two of Three in the Mansion Mythbusters series on Alexander Hamilton and Slavery coming on Wednesday. Did you miss the first one? Click here to get caught up! Also, keep your eyes peeled for an article on Angelica Schuyler and her contributions to military intelligence.