"You must not Insist upon depriving us of them...": Philip and Catharine Schuyler as Protective Grandparents

by Ian Mumpton and Jessie Serfilippi

My Dear Sir, 

…It is very natural that you and my Dear Eliza Should be anxious to have your children with you, but in this instance I apprehend your prudence has given way to your feelings[.] The fatal disorder [i.e. Yellow Fever] which has so severely been experienced at Philadelphia, may have abated, or even for the present apparently subsided, but many months must elapsed before it can be determined that the dreadful Scene will not be renewed… I have concluded that It would be improper to Acceed to your wish, If however after some farther experience you shall Judge that all danger is past, I will either carry down the little one and his nurse, or send them in charge of my son Rensselaer, but the others we all agree must remain until Spring…
The children are all in perfect health, so happy and docile and afford us so much pleasure and real satisfaction that we should part with them with infinite reluctance, you must not therefore Insist upon depriving us of them. They all Join us in love, to you & Eliza. 

I am my Dear Sir   Most affectionately Yours 

Ph: Schuyler 17 November 1793

John Church Hamilton was less than two years old when his
grandfather wrote the above letter to his parents, arguing that
it was too dangerous to send the children back to Philadelphia
after the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1793.

Today is Grandparents day in the US. Had they celebrated the day in the 18th century, Philip and Catharine Schuyler would have been inundated with cards. Their eight children that Philip and Catharine saw live to adulthood brought a total of thirty-nine grandchildren into their lives! Philip and Catharine proved to be doting grandparents, and took an active interest in their grandchildren’s  happiness, educations, and safety.

The letter above was written on the 17th of November, 1793. The previous summer’s outbreak of Yellow Fever had been particularly deadly, especially in the city of Philadelphia. In order to protect their children from the illness, Alexander and Elizabeth Schuyler had sent their six children to their grandparents’ home in Albany. Despite the return of cooler weather that Autumn and the abatement of the epidemic, Philip and Catharine still feared for their grandchildren’s safety… refusing to send them to Philadelphia until the following Spring.

Given the wide age-range amongst their own children (the oldest and youngest of whom shared a birthday, twenty-five years apart), Catharine was raising her last child at the same time that her oldest daughters were raising their first children. Her daughter Elizabeth gave birth to her first child at the Schuylers’ home in Albany not long after her youngest sister was born.

Because of this age gap, Philip and Catharine did not meet all of the grandchildren. Of the thirty-nine grand-kids, only twenty-seven had been born at the time of Catharine and Philip’s deaths (in 1803 and 1804 respectively). Sadly, of these twenty-seven, the Schuyler family would bury seven grandchildren, including six who died in infancy or childhood, and one, their grandson Philip Hamilton, who was killed in a duel at the age of nineteen. In total, thirty of the thirty-nine grandchildren survived to adulthood.

While it is heartbreaking to think that the family had to grieve the losses of nearly a quarter of that generation, these statistics were a marked improvement over those of the generation before- Catharine lost seven out of fifteen of her children before their first birthdays.  It is small wonder that the Schuylers’ were unwilling to send their grandchildren back to Philadelphia without the complete certainty that the epidemic which had claimed the lives of a full ten percent of the population of the city was truly over!

The Grasmaand Boze Geest: 17th Century Albany’s Springtime Demon

by Ian Mumpton

***The article that follows was written as Schuyler Mansion's annual April Fools post. Unfortunately, the Grasmaand Boze Geest is the product of the author's overactive imagination and experience as a story teller specializing in Adirondack Tall Tales. Thank you to everyone who played along!***

Albany has always been a community with rich cultural traditions and festivities. Often these are a time of celebration, from Pinkster and Twelfth Night in the 17^th and 18^th centuries, to Tulip Fest and the numerous cultural and musical festivals that bring color and fun to our community. But not all of Albany’s traditions are as light-hearted. For Dutch colonists of the 17^th century and their descendants, the night of April 1^st was a night of darkness and terror, for on that dark eve, even as the weather turned kind once again, the Grasmaand Boze Geest, the April Devil, stalked the forests, fields, and even the very streets of the community.

The earliest identified Dutch reference to the April Devil comes from 1631, when Evart Pachter reported an attack on his sheep as his court defense for disrupting the peace,

Evart Pachter of this place charged with disrupting the peace and the unlawful discharge of a fire arm on or about 3 April of, attests that on or about the night of 3 April he heard a wild noise from where his sheep grazed outside the walls of the Fort[-] that he went out with musket and sidearm there saw an unholy beast of great size[,] terrible to describe[,] devouring a ewe. He discharged his musket, which caused it no apparent harm but the noise of it so disrupted it that it grabbed up another ewe and a new lamb and leaping a great distance did go into the night and was seen no more. When the guard arrived they smelled a great stink of brimstone which all attested was so foul as to have come from Hell itself.

In Pachter’s case, the court found that he had acted wrongly in discharging his musket, asserting that the proper course of action was to have informed the guard and had them respond to the situation. This is the only legal document involving the creature, but it soon entered the folklore of the Dutch community. Over the next one two hundred years, tales of the “Grasmaand Boze Geest” were repeated and embellished by each generation.

By the early 18^th century, the legend had given rise to a tradition called Grasmaand Nacht. Abbe Julien Sainte-Jean Couperin described the observance during a visit to Albany in 1739.

The Dutch of Albany, who are very plentiful and still hold much of the land as they did before the English came, maintain that on the night between the first and second day of April, a fiend of Hell comes amongst them, taking sheep from their flocks or, should the Winter have been cruel and few lambs born, will carry off an unfaithful man, woman, or child from their home and sate its devilish appetite upon wayward Christian flesh. It is said to seek out lambs especially, just as the Devil seeks to undo the blessing of the Lamb of God to the faithful.

Couperin described the creature as, “A beast larger in every way than a man, with the face and claws of a fierce tiger, long ears, the legs of an eagle, and covered all over with scales and fur. It is accompanied by a terrible stink of sulphur." A number of traditions grew up around the legend as well. According to Couperin, "To protect themselves, no Dutchman goes abroad on this night, but sends his servants, if he has them, to tend the sheep. Every family prepares a bowl of grain, fish, and entrails, soaked in milk, which they leave upon their stoop- a propitiation to blunt the creature’s appetite should it seek to enter. On the Sunday before, it is considered especially bad luck not to be seen in the church.”

"The Grasmaand Boze Geest", as depicted by Joseph Valsenaam, from The Complete and Honest History of the New York Colony under the Dutch, by Edward Thomas Nash, 1775

The description of the creature sounds bizarre, and contemporary illustrations are even more so. A 1775 publication included an image by Albany-based print-maker Joseph Valsenaam that closely matches the description given by Couperin. Historians and folklorists have speculated that the appearance of the creature reflected the colonists' fears of a world new and unknown to them, where strange, potentially dangerous beasts dwelt in the unending forests. It is likely that Native American and African traditions of supernatural beasts also contributed to the growth of the legend.

The question then, is did the Schuyler family observe Grasmaand Nacht with the rest of Dutch Albany? Philip Schuyler was both a faithful member of the Dutch Reformed Congregation, and a man of Science. This was not a contradictory position for him, as he merged both aspects of his life on a regular basis, developing a mathematical proof of God and demonstrating the necessity of human mortality by calculating how much space each person would have if no one had died since Adam and Eve. But what of matters of supernatural demons?

From what little evidence we have, it seems that Philip did take part, though whether this was out of belief in evil spirits or because he was simply participating in a community ritual is unclear. On March 31^st, 1780 he wrote to his friend, Abraham Ten Broeck, that, “Cuff and Tone I will send over the day after tomorrow, but Tom I cannot as Schermerhorn has hired him of me to keep watch on his lambs all night tomorrow until dawn as is the custom.” Here we see that the tradition of sending enslaved servants to watch over the sheep on the night of April 1^st continued well into the 18^th century. Even more solid is the evidence provided by a note in Philip’s account book from 1781 that details, “2 sh 6p to S[arah] Pemberton for milk, grain, and offal for Grozemaand, she is paid in full”.

Whether Philip truly believed, or was simply playing the part in a long-standing local tradition may be unclear, but we do know that not everyone in the Schuyler family put stock in the “holiday”. Washington Morton, who married Cornelia Schuyler (in what proved to be the third of four elopements in the family), wrote to his friend Elijah McMaster in New Jersey to say,

Washington Morton (depicted here in a portrait by
Thomas Sully), put no stock in legends of
the Grasmaand Boze Geest

Our stay with Mrs. Morton’s parent’s has, as usual, been a most tedious affair, with her father giving off at once both sullen looks for me and a pained façade of paternal anguish for his dear daughter, deluded by such a rogue as I- as if any force upon this earth could have made her mind other than it was to be my beloved and wife! Having had my fill of his glowering and sermonizing, I had resolved to take a stroll that evening rather than dine in such company, when he hobbled his way into the hall and bade me stop, for it was the night they call Grazmand, when a devil is supposed to haunt all of Albany taking the wicked (amongst whom he no doubt counts me). I laughed, and offered to absolve it with my cane should it appear before me, and took my ease that night with our friends in the town.

The legend of the April Devil seems to have died out by the middle of the 19^th century, but in the two hundred years that it lasted, it left quite the mark on the community, and can still chill us to this day. The last reference to the Grasmaand Boze Geest comes from an anonymous poem written sometime around 1830:

                                  When lambs are born, and Winter gives way
                                            Prepare your soul at least,
                                 For in the dark of Grasmaand Night
                                         Beware the Grasmaand beast!

Not Two Miles Apart: Brit, Will, and Love in the Face of Slavery

By Jessie Serfilippi and Ian Mumpton

The Schuyler family history is full of intriguing romances—from Philip and Catharine’s rushed marriage (with Angelica’s birth coming just five months later) to four of their eight children eloping, there has always been a lot to talk about when it comes to love. There is one couple, however, whose story we know just the most basic of facts about- but what a story it is, nonetheless. For Will and Brit, their love was was forged in the face of slavery and years of separation from each other.

Will (sometimes called Bill) was enslaved by the Schuyler family at the Schuyler Mansion, their estate outside of Albany. Brit lived less than 2 miles away, on Market Street (roughly Broadway today), as an enslaved servant of the Ten Broeck family. Despite this geographic proximity, Brit and Will would have had little opportunity to see each other. They doubtless savored any moments that they could spend in each others' company.

From their later connections to the church, and the fact that both the Schuylers and Ten Broecks were part of the congregation, they probably attended church services together at the Dutch church on occasion. Their enslavers were also close friends, and it is possible that Brit and Will may have accompanied them during visits to the other's property. However, Will is not mentioned as one of Philip's regular attendants. Similarly, Brit is not mentioned as a personal attendant, and may have been assigned to cooking and housework, rather than accompanying the family on outings. 

The law also imposed severe limitations on their ability to be together. Strict, punitive legislation in place at various points in 18th century Albany, passed out of fear that social gatherings of slaves could lead to escape attempts or violent resistance, prevented enslaved people from gathering outside of their duties. The holiday of Pinkster was one of the only times of year when enslaved and free Black families were reliably able to come together for a time of celebration. This holiday may have been the only time when Will, Brit—and later their children and grandchildren—were able to spend any real amount of time together as a family. Even this holiday would have been taken from them in 1811, when the city of Albany outlawed the celebration of Pinkster (a law finally repealed in 2011)

A view of the Dutch Church in Albany, as seen from Market Street, circa 1805. This is largely the view that Brit would have seen as she walked from the Ten Broeck house on Market Street to the church for the baptism of her children, Susannah and Herry, and the path Susannah herself may have taken years later for the baptism of her own children.
By James Eights, painted from the artist's memory circa 1850. Albany Institute of History and Art, 1954.59.79.

Despite all of this, Will and Brit created a family together, and strove to maintain those bonds over the years through the spiritual community of the church. On March 4, 1772, they celebrated the baptism of their daughter, Susannah, at the Dutch Church in Albany. Just two years later, on June 26, 1774, they celebrated the baptism of a second child, named Herry.

This is where the record falls silent on the lives of Will and Brit. It is unknown if they remained enslaved by the Schuylers and Ten Broecks, respectively, or if one of them was eventually sold away—their family separated even further. Neither of them are mentioned in later Schuyler or Ten Broeck manumissions, making it likely that they either died in bondage or were sold to another enslaver at some point after the birth of their two children.

While we may never know what happened to Will or Brit, their eldest daughter, Susannah, married a man named Thomas Willinger at the Dutch Church in Albany on April 18, 1797. She was twenty five years old at this time, and continued the family association with the Dutch Reformed congregation. It appears that Thomas passed away at some point shortly after this, but five years later, on August 14, 1802, Susannah was married again, this time to Peter Roseboom, also at the Dutch Church. Over the next four years, Susannah and Peter had three children: Dinah, Susan, and Mary. At this time, enlsaved status followed the condition of the mother. As Susannah was still enslaved by Abraham and Elizabeth Ten Broeck at the time, her daughters were as well. 

Shortly after Abraham Ten Broeck’s death, on April 13, 1810, Susannah and her daughters were manumitted by Elizabeth Ten Broeck. The terms of the manumission were strict—demanding that Suannah return once a week to do Elizabeth Ten Broeck’s laundry and ironing. She was also required to assist the family at “killing season".

On March 13, 1811, only eleven months after Susannah, Dinah, Susan, and Mary were manumitted, Peter was manumitted upon Eve Roseboom’s death. When Elizabeth Ten Broeck died in 1813, Susannah herself was truly free. In their new freedom, the couple had one more child, a daughter named Jane, born to them on May 31, 1815. While the family disappears from the historical record as of 1820, we know that Susannah could live in freedom with her husband and children. Although Brit and Will never got to experience that life for themselves, their love and determination built a resilient relationship and family in the face of slavery. Through their daughter and granddaughters, their love and strength survived.