The Articles of Association and the Smuggling Elite

"The King Drinks a Twelfth Night Feast," about 1645,
 by Jacob Jordaens.

by Sarah Lindecke

Twelfth Night of January 1775 likely looked different from past Twelfth Nights for the Schuylers. The political tension was unavoidable as American colonists faced numerous acts, foisted upon them by the English Parliament, restricting their purchasing of imported consumer goods, like sugar and tea. Combined with many colonists feeling over-taxed and over-burdened, many were pushed toward the idea of separating from England, though the sentiment was not universal. On top of these already tenuous conditions, goods and food normally used at the Schuylers’ lavish holiday celebrations had recently come under direct attack, too, but not by the British—by the colonists boycotting British import and export trade. Suddenly, the sugar, rum, Maderia, fancy silks for clothes, and even exotic fruits such as oranges, lemons, and pineapples, were off-limits… Unless the Schuylers crossed the boycott lines

Page 1 of the Articles of Association

The boycott came into effect through the Articles of Association, or the Continental Association, which was passed by the Continental Congress on October 20^th, 1774, and went into effect on December 1^st, 1774—just over a month before Twelfth Night. This set of Articles bound the colonies in unity under a non-importation/exportation agreement that banished all goods from or traded by England until the colonists’ demands for fairer treatment were met. The colonies wanted to significantly damage the financial strength England wielded over them through their import/export trade. The Association was also meant to promote the home-grown industry of the colonies to produce goods for local use. Local committees, known as Committees of Correspondence, were charged with enforcing the non-importation/exportation elements of the Articles while ensuring people were able to access necessities.

             Despite the unification felt by many colonists under the Articles, some of the wealthiest members of colonial society chose to forgo compliance with the Articles for their own comfort. Philip Schuyler [and his family were among those able to pick and choose how they wanted to comply or not comply with the new law. Though the family eventually became deeply involved with the rebels once the American Revolution began later in 1775, they were more interested in their own comfort and lavish lifestyle before joining the rebels. Many of the items they purchased for decoration, as well as for consumption, were imported. It was a status symbol to purchase a majority of goods from far flung lands, and the Schuylers were always concerned with status. They were personally and socially pressured to show off their wealth through the imports in their home and on their table.

             Unfortunately, access to imported merchant goods became complicated after the Articles of Association went into effect. The Schuylers were at a crossroads—adhere to the Articles and risk appearing common or find other ways to continue purchasing imported goods. A letter addressed to Philip Schuyler on January 1^st, 1775, from Ludlow Shaw & Ludlow, a trading company in New York City, hints at what lengths the Schuylers were willing to go to acquired now-blockaded goods. Ludlow wrote:

We hope the different parcells [sic] of goods we have Sent you up are got to hand _ and that they are aggregable to order _ the 10 hails we have a promise of which must remain here till the Spring, from the appearance of things we have no Expectation of any importation from great Brittain for a long timeIn a lengthy postscript, the Ludlow Shaw & Ludlow company further elucidates the relationship the Schuylers were building with them:

It is Customary with us from to time to time to give our Country Friends every Information we can respecting the price of prospect of Markets. For Grain for the Insuing [sic] Spring; our only fear s are that Government may put a stop to our Exports. Should that be cas [sic] great must be our distress_ but should not that take place … we think wheat will… be in good demand next Spring from the different advicses [sic] we have received _ But… we think in some measure to repay the Risk the purchases of Wheat Run they should take its in low _ Pott ash perhaps may be thought an object worthy your attention

"Vue de la Nouvelle Yorck" by Balthasar Friedrich Leizelt

This letter was sent to Philip Schuyler just a month after the Articles of Association went into effect, and it shows just how quickly plans were already being carried out to provide Schuyler with “parcells [sic] of goods.” To give the Schuylers and Ludlow benefit of the doubt, it’s possible these items were surplus goods that had been ordered by the company before the Articles went into effect, but were received shortly after the goods became banned. Over the months after the Articles went into effect, colonists seized trade goods and newspapers ran advertisements for auctions being held for the goods taken from British merchant ships. .While that is one way to explain the letter, it is just as likely that the Schuylers were making connections with Ludlow to continue receiving banned goods no matter how they were obtained. Unfortunately, because this letter also does not explicate what goods are being sent, it is difficult to know their provenance or how they were obtained. 

The postscript calls the Schuylers “Country Friends” of the company, or people who lived far from the centers of importing and exporting, but who wanted to continue receiving trade goods. In exchange, these “Country Friends” provided farm exports that were desired by people living in cities. The postscript suggests that the Schuylers have contracted to provide grains to the company as part of their payment. This would have been a desired crop because New York City, while connected to many farms up north of the city itself, required more food crops from much further north to ensure all were furnished with regular goods. The writer is desirous of receiving those goods, but wants to keep Schuyler informed that both the company and the Schuylers were placing themselves in danger should the illegal exports be found out. The government, the Continental Congress, had the power to put a stop to all of their activities. While appearing cognizant of the dangers, the company used the postscript to assure Schuyler that all cautions were being taken for the financial benefit of all involved.  

"The Bostonian Paying the Excise-Man," 1774.

These excerpts from the letter can hint at the other frustrations felt by the writer about the importation ban, as the ban most likely cut off access to a reliable income from selling highly sought after imported goods. The first section, in the main text of the letter, reads “great Obstinacy on our part & some thing very Similar to it in England, will we fear preclude any Negotiation till our mutual necessity Oblige us to addapt [sic] some pacific System.” The writer seemed to feel as though both England and the colonies were stubborn about addressing each other or working to solve their mutual concerns. Which, more importantly for him, was impeding his ability to conduct business. He was willing to “adapt” to whatever was best to continue business, but was frustrated at the increased risk involved. In the postscript, the writer expressed other worries as well. He was singularly concerned that “the Government will put a stop to our Exports.” This would not only put the business in financial trouble, but there could also be legal concerns for the “smugglers” and their buyers.  

The legal trouble for both the company and the Schuylers as they conducted these black-market deals came from the Committees of Correspondence that were established locally and sanctioned by the Continental Congress in the Articles of Association. These committees’ primary role was in disseminating information and rulings made by the Continental Congress in support of the “Patriot” movement. Due to loose regulations, many of these committees expanded their role into the realm of enforcing Congressional decisions and rooting out Loyalists agents. Philip Schuyler, later on in the Revolution, worked with these Committees when he created lists of Albany Loyalists, but, prior to the Revolution—and even during it—he was breaking the laws enforced by the Committees.

While Schuyler’s wealth likely protected him from a majority of the possible censure, the social risk of having his loyalties questioned was present.  If Schuyler was caught breaking any Continental Congress rulings, he could have been censured or steeply punished by the Committees and their agents. In New York, the Committees mainly resorted to social and political censure, but other colonies where more radical groups, like the Sons of Liberty, were in charge of the retaliation, often responded with more unrestrained violence. Images of extreme violence done towards citizens stem from more radical or violent responses to non-compliance to the Continental Congress’ propositions, but were somewhat rare on the whole throughout most colonies. These concerns were not enough, however, to force the Schuylers to go without their desired goods. 

This letter is one clear example of Philip Schuyler’s actions with the black market during the pre-Revolution years, but there are more. Another example is in a letter written to Philip Schuyler by friend and business partner, John Taylor, who purchased goods for Schuyler during the Quebec Campaign during March of 1776 (If you are interested in learning more about this, please check out our blog post Taken Up North Sold For A Carpet). The items purchased in 1776 were similarly precarious for Philip Schuyler due to the trade embargos in place at the time.

"Still Life With Fruit and a Cockatoo" 
by Joeef Schuster, 1851.

Despite the war, the Schuylers were determined to enjoy all of the luxuries they were accustomed to not only for Twelfth Night, but year-round. While the holiday may have looked different for many in 1775, the Schuylers didn’t suffer from the bans as many others did. Smuggling came with significant risk for all involved—from the suppliers of goods who courted danger obtaining items, to the consumers who directly skirted the carefully assembled Articles of Association and non-importation bans. But, to the Schuylers, it was a risk worth taking. 

Bibliography

Breen, T.H. The marketplace of revolution: How consumer politics shaped American independence (Oxford University Press, 2004)

Ketchum, Richard M. (2002). Divided Loyalties, How the American Revolution came to New York. Henry Holt and Co.

Levy, Barry. (2011). tar and feathers and English identity.

Norton, Mary Beth. 1774: The Long Year of Revolution (Vintage, 2021).

Oliver, Peter. Origin & progress of the American Rebellion; a Tory view (1961).

Schlesinger, Arthur Meier. The Colonial Merchants and the American Revolution, 1763–1776 (1917).

Warford-Johnston, Benjamin. “American Colonial Committees of Correspondence: Encountering Oppression, Exploring Unity, and Exchanging Visions of the Future.” The History Teacher 50, no. 1 (2016): 83–128. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44504455.

The Story of Adelaide and Alice

A letter from Adelaide to her nephew, Schuyler Hamilton Jr.

by Jessie Serfilippi

This research was made possible by a new collection of Hamilton papers Schuyler Mansion acquired from the Norwalk Historical Society.

In January of 1899, Adelaide and Alice Hamilton’s names were all over the news. On January 17^th, 1899, the New York Times published an article titled “Miss Hamilton is Insane: Wealthy Granddaughter of Alexander Hamilton Pronounced So by Jury.” The article followed a court case brought against Alice by her older sister, Adelaide, in which she sought to have her younger sister institutionalized. From these facts alone, it’s easy to assume there was no love between them and that Adelaide sought to institutionalize Alice out of desire for her sister’s money or out of malice, but when their entire lives are taken in account, a much more complex story emerges.

Adelaide (1830-1915) and Alice Hamilton (1838-1905) were two of twelve children born to Maria Eliza van den Heuvel (1795-1873) and John Church Hamilton (1792-1882), who was Elizabeth Schuyler (1757-1854) and Alexander Hamilton’s (1755-1804) son. They grew up in an incredibly wealthy household in New York City, with both of their parents coming from well-off and societally important families. They lived at 17 West 20^th Street in Manhattan, where Adelaide stayed until her death.

While not much information exists about the girls’ childhoods, one letter offers a small window into their world. In a letter from their mother to Adelaide written in January of 1851, when Adelaide was twenty and Alice was twelve, their mother filled Adelaide in on her travels in Baltimore and Washington D.C., and sent suggestions and wishes to her other children still at home with Adelaide. She told Adelaide to give Alice her “best love” and hoped she would go to the opera.

In the crosswritten section, Adelaide sends their nephew Alice's best wishes.

A letter from their brother, Laurens Hamilton (1834-1858), to their other brother, Alexander Hamilton, written in 1855, gives more insight into their lives as well. Laurens wrote that Alice was “’coming out’” that winter, and that he was making his debut too. He described how for women, there is “Fussing all the time before the parties,” while a man “puts on clothes which has probably been worn frequently and walks into the ballroom.”

From these letters, it’s clear the Hamilton children were expected to partake in high society and went through the usual traditions, such as making their formal entrance into the social scene and attending operas and plays.

Adelaide and Alice, as well as one of their other sisters, Charlotte (1819-1896), remained unmarried and
lived in their family home together through adulthood. While Charlotte predeceased them both, later letters from Adelaide to her nephew, Schuyler Hamilton Jr. (1853-1907), reveal she often summered at Newport, Rhode Island, which was a common stomping ground for the wealthy members of New York society. Adelaide and Alice spent the summer of 1897 in Newport. One letter to her nephew dated June 17^th of that year mentioned the house they were staying in, and on September 11, 1897, Adelaide wrote that “Aunt Alice is well and would beg to be remembered if she knew I was writing.”  

Adelaide describing the rooms she and Alice share at their summer home in Newport.

Sadly, within less than a year, everything changed for Alice and Adelaide. The New York Times article on Alice stated that she had been suffering from depression and delusions since at least April of 1898, when she was committed to Pleasantville Sanitorium. Adelaide brought the court case against Alice in 1899, seemingly to keep her there.

Adelaide, as well as medical experts, testified that Alice believed her relatives and herself to be dead, that she experienced religious delusions, and suffered from “melancholia.” She was found insane and had to stay at Pleasantville Sanitorium. The New York Times noted that Alice had a large estate—over $200,000 in property and a personal income of about $6,000 per year—but it did not mention what happened to her assets.

Alice was hospitalized at the “MacDonald House” in Mount Pleasant in Westchester County, New York, right outside of New York City. The doctor who ran the private hospital was Dr. Carl MacDonald, who lived there with his wife and daughter. In 1900, there was a staff of seventeen people, including eight nurses. That year, at the time the census was taken, there were seven patients, including Alice, at the hospital. Nothing is really known about the hospital or the doctor who ran it, but the small number of patients suggests it was for wealthy families, and its location in Westchester County was secluded from New York City in the relative countryside. Alice lived there until her death in 1905.

Adelaide died in 1915, at her family home, with multiple servants living at the estate with her. She was the last of her sisters to die.

As publicized as this story was within their lifetimes, the personal details—such as the true thoughts and emotions behind it—remain a mystery. As we have this new collection in our possession, there’s always a chance we’ll find something in it or in a new collection yet to come that sheds more light on their lives. Until then, this is the story of Adelaide and Alice as the records have told it.

From the Commonplace Book to the Scrapbook

Excerpt of Eliza Schuyler Hamilton's commonplace book. 

Did you know that the first Saturday in May is National Scrapbook Day? Although the term “scrapbook” wasn’t used until the mid to late-1800s, the concept has existed for centuries. Popularized in the 15^th century with the advent of the printing press, people have been using what were called “commonplace books” to compile documents such as recipes, letters, poems, and journal entries. Even as early as the 8^th century, these types of books were used to compile biblical texts, and the concept of these books as a form of personal expression and record keeping developed thereafter.

In 1685, Enlightenment philosopher John Locke wrote a treatise on commonplace books, translated into English in 1706 as A New Method of Making Common-Place-Books. Locke offered insights into how a person could document a wide array of information, including proverbs, speeches, and ideas. By the 18^th century, the commonplace book had cemented its status as a cherished resource for educated women, providing them with a repository for pamphlets, newspaper clippings, and reflections on the world around them.

Within the Schuyler Mansion collections, there is an excerpt of a commonplace book kept by Eliza Hamilton Schuyler (1811-1863), great-granddaughter of Catharine and Philip Schuyler. Entitled “A Common Place book of Winter life,” these pages detail just eight days from January 1^st-8^th of 1855. Three small holes visible on the left-hand side of what is now a single sheet of paper indicate it was once a longer book Eliza kept. How long she kept it, and where the missing pages are, is currently unknown.

The eight surviving entries allow us a glimpse into Eliza’s daily life. Almost every day, she recorded the temperature at exactly 8AM. While she sometimes mentioned activities in her family life, such as taking her children to German school, she mainly focused on nature. Her notes were poetic at times: “soft glowing sunset—streaking the [Hudson] river with broady [sic] bands of red, purple & gold—I take this hour for myself & such to rise” In this case, she was describing the view from her father’s home near Irvington, NY. She wrote that the sunset reminded her of the day she was married. She said that day had been “rainy & dull,” but the “clouds broke—such joy flashed upon me with these brilliant slanting beams, that they have strengthened me ever since—” Her entries provide a beautiful window into her world and memories even over 160 years since she recorded them.

While Eliza’s commonplace book focused on nature and her daily life, so many 19^th century scrapbooks were full of other mementos like tickets, playbills, and magazine clippings. As magazines began to disseminate even more, the art of scrapbooking as we know it today began to develop thanks to Mark Twain patenting a self-pasting scrapbook that would generate over $100,000 in sales. With the photography also becoming more accessible as near the turn of the 20^th century, scrapbooking as opposed to keeping commonplace books became more typical in American homes.

Perhaps as adults, Eliza’s children clipped articles or photos from ladies’ magazines or saved calling cards and playbills. Thanks to each generation’s unique way of keeping mementoes and snippets of their lives as they wanted to remember them, we get a glimpse into a much more personal past.

Poets of the Schuylers' Time: A National Poetry Month Recap

Phillis Wheatley, possibly by Scipio Moorhead;
circa 1773

In April we introduced you to poets from around the world who lived during the 18^th and early 19^th centuries! Here’s a recap, in order of the poets’ births, in case you missed out on a post.

JUPITER HAMMON

Jupiter Hammon was born into slavery in 1711, on Henry Lloyd’s estate on Long Island, New York. Though the details are unknown, he was educated by the Lloyds. As an adult, he worked with Henry on his business, often going to New York City to negotiate trade deals. Hammon may have served in a similar role to Prince, a man enslaved by the Schuylers. Prince also knew how to read and write, a skill he acquired before being enslaved by the Schuylers, and occasionally weighed in on farm management.

Hammon’s first work, “An Evening Thought,” was published in 1760. Like many of his works, it was rooted in religion, which played a vital role in his life. It’s unclear to what degree or how the Lloyds supported him, but the religious nature of his poems may have played a part. In 1778, Hammon wrote a poem to Phillis Wheatley, also known for using religious imagery in her poetry, seemingly to give her encouragement to continue writing:

Jupiter Hammon’s poem to Phillis Wheatley,
courtesy of the Connecticut Historical Society.

Come you, Phillis, now aspire,
And seek the living God,
So step by step thou mayst go higher,
Till perfect in the word

A prominent member of the larger Black community, he gave a speech titled “Address to the
Negroes of the State of New York” to the African Society of New York City in 1787, when he was 76. This and his other works were used throughout the 19^th by anti-slavery activists in support of their cause.

Hammon died in the early 19^th century, sometime before 1806, still enslaved by the Lloyds. He is buried in an unmarked grave on the Lloyd estate. His writing continued to fuel the abolitionist movement throughout the 19^th century. You can learn more about him through the Jupiter Hammon Project: https://preservationlongisland.org/jupiter-hammon-project/

Read more of his poetry here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52546/an-address-to-miss-phillis-wheatly

Yosa Buson by Matsumura Goshun

YOSA BUSON

Yosa Buson was born in the village of Kema (in present day Osaka), Japan, in 1716. He moved to present-day Tokyo to study painting and haiku. He then travelled throughout Japan, keeping records of his travels, before settling in Kyoto in the 1750s.  

Yosa worked as both a painter and poet, and was considered one of the best poets of the Edo Period (1603-1867). He married and had a daughter in Kyoto, but eventually resumed his work and travels. When he returned, he settled down to teach poetry and continue writing.

He died at the age of 68 and was buried at a temple in Kyoto. As his poetry is in Japanese, there are multiple translations into English by different translators. We’ve provided the original Japanese and two translations to show how they vary.

初雪の底を叩ば竹の月

hatsuyuki no soko wo tatakeba take no tsuki

The first light snow
then when the bowl of the sky is empty
the moon hanging in the bamboos

(translated by Merwin and Lento)

The first snow
Emptying itself to its last flake —
The moon above bamboo.

(translated by Takafumi Saito and William R. Nelson)

See more translations and more of his poetry here: https://www.upaya.org/uploads/pdfs/ThirteenHaikubyYosaBuson.pdf

Mrs. James Warren (Mercy Otis) by
John Singleton Copley, circa 1763

MERCY OTIS WARREN

Mercy Otis Warren was born in 1728, in Barnstable, Massachusetts. She had no formal education, but learned by sitting in on her brother’s lessons and using her uncle’s library. When she married James Warren, he encouraged her interest in politics, history, and writing.

When her husband was elected to the Massachusetts Legislature in 1766, they began hosting many politically prominent people, such as the Adams, and Warren began lifelong (at times rocky) friendship with John Adams. When the American Revolution began, she was a staunch rebel. She wrote a history of the American Revolution and became the third women in the United States to publish her poetry. She continuously engaged in politics—expressing her disapproval of the Constitution and desire for women’s education. She died at 86.

You can read one of her poems here and see her ponder keeping within “the narrow bounds, prescrib'd to female life” in response to the man who requested she write a poem on “primitive simplicity” https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/evans/N17785.0001.001/1:15.14?rgn=div2;view=fulltext 

JOHNATHAN ODELL

 An undated portraited miniature of Odell;
artist unknown; courtesy
of New Brunswick Museum

Johnathan Odell was born in 1737 in Newark, New Jersey. He studied medicine at Princeton and graduated in 1754. While still practicing medicine at times, he mainly became an Anglican minister, preaching at parishes in Burlington and Mount Holly in New Jersey.

In 1772, Odell married Anne de Cou and they had three children, one named for Odell’s lifelong friend, William Franklin, Benjamin Franklin’s Loyalist son. The couple tried to appear neutral at the start of the war, but his support of the British soon became known, and in 1776, he was forced by the New Jersey Provincial Congress to sign an oath of loyalty to the rebels. Not long after, they ordered him captured—dead or alive—and he and his family fled to British-held New York City, where he continued supporting the British.

Odell became a spy, satirist, essayist, and poet for the Loyalist cause. His poems were long, and sometimes written with fellow Loyalist, Samuel Seabury. He often named famous rebels in his poems, though Schuyler was seemingly never named in one.

Following the war, the Odells moved to New Brunswick, Canada, where he held multiple government positions. He lived there until his death in 1818. You can read some of his poetry here: https://xtf.lib.virginia.edu/xtf/view?docId=chadwyck_ap/uvaGenText/tei/chap_AM0706.xml&chunk.id=d3&toc.id=d3&brand=default

(Image: an undated portraited miniature of Odell; artist unknown; courtesy of New Brunswick Museum)

PHILLIS WHEATLEY

Phillis Wheatley's signature.

Phillis Wheatley was born in West Africa—possibly Senegal or Gambia—in 1753. She was
kidnapped in 1761, arriving in Boston on July 11^th, 1761. She was purchased by the Wheatley family when she was seven and enslaved by them until she was about twenty.

While enslaved & working in the Wheatley’s household, the Wheatley’s children tutored her in reading & writing. By twelve, she could read Latin & Greek. At fourteen, she wrote her first known poem. While they supported her education & writing, the Wheatleys still enslaved her.

In 1773, Nathaniel Wheatley took her to England, to get her poetry published in a volume, as it was difficult to find a printer willing to do so in the Colonies. The book was published in the summer of 1773, and Wheatley was freed in 1774. Within a few years, both of the Wheatleys were dead, and Phillis married a man named John Peters. They had three children together, but they all died in infancy. Her husband was soon imprisoned for debt and Phillis fell ill while working as a maid. She died in 1784 at 31.

Wheatley’s poetry was recognized by many famous figures of the 18^th century, including George Washington, who she wrote a poem for. While modern scholars sometimes claim she didn’t write about her enslavement, her use of religious metaphors may have been her way of doing so. She was the first Black woman to have her writing published in the United States. You can read one of her poems, “On Imagination,” here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52632/on-imagination

 

Self portrait circa 1802.

WILLIAM BLAKE

William Blake was born on November 28, 1757 (just a few months after Elizabeth Schuyler), in London. He attended formal school up until the age of 10 and was then educated at home by his mother. He was soon enrolled in drawing school and began to take an interest in poetry.

At 15, he was apprenticed to an engraver and was a professional by the time his indenture was over at the age of 21. Afterward, he studied art at the Royal Academy. He married Catherine Boucher in 1781, and she became a partner in his work. In 1783, he published his first book of poetry.

He ran a printshop with a radical publisher, Joseph Johnson, and met many English dissidents this way. Some of his work shows he believed in women’s rights and equality. He was also we talented artist, especially as an engraver, relief etcher, and illustrator.  

He died on August 12, 1827, after drawing a sketch of his wife & promising he’d remain by her side. While friends published and sold his writing, they also destroyed & edited some of it. It wasn’t until the early 21^st century that his importance as a poet was fully acknowledged. 

In his poem “The Clod and the Pebble,” he gives two different views of love: one based on selflessness, and another based on selfishness. You can read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43655/the-clod-and-the-pebble

 WU ZAO

Image of one of Wu Zao's poems and a print.

Wu Zao was born in 1799 in Renhe, now Hangzhou, in the Zhejiang province of China. Her
father was a merchant, and she later married a merchant named Huang. It’s been suggested that neither of them were interested in literature.

At the time she was born, the US was importing tea, porcelain, silk, & other goods from China. Wealthy families like the Schuylers bought these goods to show off their status & taste. While these goods were being imported, Chinese poetry had yet to be shared with the wider world.

Wu was a poet and musician, writing an opera, lyrics, and playing the qin—a stringed instrument. Her poems were commonly sung throughout China and had a casual and personal tone to them. She wrote multiple romantic poems to women throughout her life.

Not much is known about her later life aside from the fact that she converted to Buddhism. Many scholars consider her to be one of the top three women poets in China. Some of her poems have been translated into English. Read “Swallows” in the original Chinese and as translated into English by Irving Y. Lo 译 below.

吴藻·《如梦令·燕子》

燕子未随春去，
飞入绣帘深处。
软语话多时，
莫是要和侬住？
延伫，延伫，
含笑回它：“不许！”

Not all the swallows have left with the spring:
One flies past embroidered curtains into my inner room.
Softly, endlessly, it murmurs;
Could it be saying, “May I stay with you?”
Waiting for an answer,
Waiting for an answer,
With a smile, I reply, “No, you mustn’t.”

You can learn more about her here: https://legacyprojectchicago.org/person/wu-zao

Jane Johnston Schoolcraft;
artist and date unknown.

JANE JOHNSTON SCHOOLCRAFT

Baamewaawaagizhigokwe, or “Woman of the Sound the Stars Make Rushing Through the Sky,” also known as Jane Johnston Schoolcraft, is considered by many historians to be the first known Native American English literary writer.

Jane Johnston Schoolcraft was born in 1800 in Sault Ste. Marie in what is now Michigan. Her mother, who was Ojibwe, was an important political leader and her father, who was Scottish-Irish, was a fur trapper. They were important leaders in the local Ojibwa and Euro-American communities.

Jane learned the Ojibwe language & culture from her mother & had access to her father’s English library, where she learned about written English literature. She wrote her own works in both languages and translated Ojibwa works into English, likely being the first person to do so.

In 1823, she married Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, also a writer, and US Indian Agent in the Michigan Territory for some time. They had four children together. Her writing, which was mostly private, included a homemade literary magazine circulated only between herself & her husband.

Even though she was born much later, her life contained multiple parallels to Schuyler’s with her father working in the fur trade industry as Schuyler once did, and her husband serving as a US Indian Agent, similar to Schuyler’s position of Commissioner for Indian Affairs.

She died in 1842, after experiencing frequent bouts of illness for several years. Today, she is recognized as a poet, translator, and storyteller. Her poems have been published in both Ojibwe and English, with some set to music. You can read her poem, “To the Pine Tree,” translated by Maragret Noodin, here: https://poets.org/poem/pine-tree

Zhingwaak! Zhingwaak! Ingii-ikid, – Pine! Pine! I said,
Weshki waabamag zhingwaak – The one I see, the pine
Dagoshinaan neyab, endanakiiyaan. – I return back, to my homeland.
Zhingwaak, zhingwaak nos sa! – The pine, the pine my father!

Azhigwa gidatisaanan – Already you are colored
Gaagige wezhaawashkozid. – Forever you are green
Mii sa naa azhigwa dagoshinaang – So we already have arrived
Bizindamig ikeyaamban – Listen in that direction

Geget sa, niminwendam – Certainly I am happy
Miinwaa, waabandamaan – And I see
Gii-ayaad awiiya waabandamaan niin – He was there I saw it myself
Zhingwaak, zhingwaak nos sa! – The pine, the pine my father!
Azhigwa gidatisaanan. – Already you are colored.

Gaawiin gego, gaa-waabanda’iyan – Nothing, you did show me
Dibishkoo, ezhi-naagwasiinoon – Like that, the way it looks
Zhingwaak wezhaawashkozid – Pine he is green.
Wiin eta gwanaajiwi wi – He is beautiful
Gaagige wezhaawashkozid. – Forever he is the green one.

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.