Philip Schuyler, the Albany Avenger

It’s that time of year again, when we post our annual April Fools article. In past years, every effort has been made to make these seem strange stories that like they really shouldn’t be true, but where everything seems to line up in a believable enough way. As much fun as that is, it can cause problems from time to time, such as when one reader prepared Philip Schuyler’s “recipe” for bacon-wrapped eels on the grill- a reference that we made up (at least they were tasty!) This year we’ve decided to take a subtly different tack:

The following is not history. At all. Occasionally we may include a historical name or date, but any similarity to any persons living, dead, or undead, is either accidental or used fictitiously to provide a veneer of authenticity so thin it could be marred with a sneeze. So without further delay, allow us to present Philip Schuyler, the Albany Avenger.

The year was 1781. The stakes? Nothing less than the independence of the United States of America. British forces in North America were reeling from a series of key losses, including Cornwallis’s dramatic surrender at Yorktown, and from dwindling support on the home front. Desperate for a stunning victory that would secure their military position in the colonies and inspire political confidence in Britain, top-ranking Crown officers gathered to discuss the seemingly preposterous plan put forward by junior officer and part-time scientist, Lt. Johnathan Hammond of the 42^nd Royal Highland regiment, recently returned to England from duty in the Caribbean. Hammond’s proposal was simple-

Dinosaurs.

A 1780 image of dinosaurs being measured and fitted for armor in London.

Admittedly, this was nothing new at that time. The military application of dinosaurs in Europe began with the French in the early 18th century. Prior to their deployment at the Battle of Parc Jurassique in 1711, dinosaurs were a closely kept secret of the French military, but when a thundering herd of enraged ankylosaurs smashed through the Duke of Marlborough’s lines, Britain had quickly begun development of their own saurian military force. By 1775, Britain had deployed dinosaurs in every one of their European conflicts since 1735, as well as against Jacobite forces and Irish revolutionaries closer to home. The pride of British dinodom was William, a 42-foot, 13.5 metric ton Tyrannosaurus Rex known for his brash confidence and dislike of protocol and authority, but who could be relied on to, “get the job done…”.

That this T-Rex would prove a valuable military asset in North America was beyond doubt, but one fact remained that made Hammond’s proposal seem outlandish: no European power had thus far successfully transported a dinosaur across the Atlantic.  Lt. Hammond was confident that it could be done, however, and offered to rapidly design and construct a ship capable of transporting William the T-Rex from Cornwall to New York, a promise he astonishingly made good on. On April 1^st, 1782,two-hundred and forty one years ago today, Hammond’s vessel, HMS Ingenuity dropped anchor in the harbor of New York City with William safely aboard. The cost of transportation had been staggering. For sustenance William had consumed a total of 112 head of cattle and 45 tunns of rum (11,340 gallons) on the voyage, while four sailors spent the entire crossing earning special duty pay to ensure the removal of his waste in a timely fashion.

Actor Jeff Goldblum (best known for his roles
in movies such as The Fly (1986) and Cats and Dogs (2001))
as Dr. Johnathan Malcom in the 1993 film In-Dino-Pendance Day.
While panned for its inaccurate costuming, the film
offers a gripping retelling of the 1782 Battle of Fishkill.

The cost was worth it, however, when William stomped ashore. One local citizen, Dr. John Malcom,
described the sight of the gigantic creature making its way through the city in a letter to a friend, saying “It was by far the most marvelous and terrifying sight I have ever beheld, a monstrous lizard some forty feet in length. Everyone watched in horrified awe as it passed, anxiously exposing themselves to its gaze, out of trepidation that such a marvel should pass so close to their lives and them not to see it.” The crowds were so dense that Malcom’s wife, Sarah, was unable to see William through the masses. According to Dr. Malcom, “many were too preoccupied with the question of how they might get a closer view that none thought to question whether they ought to. My wife being amongst these, was dissatisfied with her vantage point, and resolved to get closer. The crowd was so numerous that this seemed impossible, but as is ever the case, [my] wife found a way…”

Six days later, Continental forces near Fishkill were awakened at dawn by the thunderous roar of a creature most had never imagined existing, much less anticipated facing in battle. Fitted with armor made up of interlocking plates and chainmail, William tore through their defenses, devouring all in his path. Musket fire was virtually useless against William, and even field artillery was ill equipped to handle the speed with which this King of the Late Cretaceous rampaged across the battlefield. Only cavalry had the mobility necessary to match him. While their weaponry was unable to pose significant threat to William’s armored bulk, a small unit of riders under the command of Captain Enoch Otiss managed to draw the attention of the dinosaur long enough for their comrades to organize a tactical withdrawal. With British troops advancing, things looked grim for the Continental forces.

Enter Philip Schuyler. While he no longer held a commission in the Continental Army, the former Major General was still very much an active participant in the conflict. Schuyler had an expansive roster of contacts and spies throughout New York. In fact, he had been tracking the Ingenuity’s progress from England, and had been made aware of William’s presence in North America several days before the attack at Fishkill! On April 3^rd, 1782, Schuyler received a message from an as-yet unidentified “D. Nedry of Lansingburgh” that read simply:

Hgrubgnisnal ,yrden D

,yllaicnanif sryY.

daer si regneva ynabla eht yarp i. Emoc sah mailliw. Deraef ew sa si ti,

Lareneg raed

Despite being apparent gibberish, the message was actually an encoded warning! According to Schuyler Mansion Historic Site Assistant Ian Mumpton, “Nedry ensured the secrecy of his warning by employing what is known as a non-substitutive, mono-alphabetic reversion cipher, also known as ‘writing it backwards’. This type of encryption, really, if were to ask me, was very bad.”

Through careful examination in a mirror, it was determined that Nedry’s message to Schuyler was as follows:

Dear General,

It is as we feared. William has come. I pray the Albany Avenger is ready.

Yrs. Financially,
D. Nedry, Lansingburgh.

Schuyler had long known that conventional military resources would be ineffective against militarily trained and equipped dinosaurs. While most of the Revolutionary leadership dismissed the possibility that Britain would be able to transport saurian shock troops across the Atlantic, Schuyler’s concerns were shared by Dr. Benjamin Franklin and Tadeusz Kościuszko, a Polish engineer and officer serving in the Continental Army. As early as 1777, the three had begun plans for what Nedry referred to in his letter as “The Albany Avenger”.

A contemporary depiction of the Albany Avenger under construction,
by Albany artist FaeganMorheart.

‘What was the Albany Avenger?’ you might ask (as well you should). Built of woven ash-wood and willow around an articulated iron frame by a team of 200 Albany laborers (under the careful supervision of General Kościuszko), and powered by Franklin’s research on the application of electrical energy, the Albany Avenger stood 40 feet tall, “Like in form to a man, but of much Greater Scale, and its strength proportionate- the very thing to drive the great Lizard of London from our fair and abundant shores!”  According to Schuyler, “It is the protector of the Hudson now, but when it has been the instrument of our National Liberty and salvation, it shall be known as the Colossus of America!” Philip Schuyler’s contribution to the effort, beyond offsetting the monumental financial resources needed, was one which would guarantee his place in the halls of “history” for all time. The former Major General volunteered himself as the pilot of this incredible 18^th century combat exoskeleton.

And so, on morning of April 7^th, 1782, the stage was set for the ultimate showdown between William, the largest Tyrannosaurus Rex in the service of His Majesty, King George III of England, and Philip Schuyler, aka The Albany Avenger. Much has been written about that fateful battle, and it would be repetitive to describe it in detail here. We all know that Schuyler emerged victorious; we have all heard the legends of the bees and the apples, and of the noble sacrifice of Jim Adams (who, if not for his role at Fishkill, would be the least famous of the three Adamses of the Revolution). But the story known to far fewer, is what happened to Lt. Hammond and William after their defeat.

According to recent research made up by Schuyler Mansion staff, when the British government decided, after careful consideration, not to endorse another saurian expedition to North America, Lt. Hammond resigned his commission in frustration and disgrace. Returning to the Caribbean, he joined with other investors investing in amber mines. William, incensed by the treatment of his friend, similarly resigned, devouring two generals in the process. He attempted to make a name for himself in the world of pugilism. Sadly, though he reigned uncontested in rural “all in” matches, his lack of reach hindered his success in formal fights, and William retired to live with his sister Susan in Liverpool in 1789.

An undated depiction of William facing off against British bareknuckle champion Tom Johnson.