"exceedingly disagreeable to me:" Angelica Schuyler's Elopement

 by Heather Damia 

Portrait miniature of John Barker Church
(1748-181) by an unnamed artist. 

On the 23^rd of June, 1777, Angelica Schuyler married John Barker Church. The marriage drew outrage from Angelica’s parents, Philip and Catharine Schuyler, who had not given their permission for the union, and the elopement sparked a dramatic conflict involving three generations of the family. Throughout days of heated arguments, cold disregard, and threats of disinheriting, Angelica and her parents almost never spoke face-to-face. Negotiations happened largely through Angelica’s grandparents, and nearly all direct communication between the Schuylers and their daughter happened through letters. The eldest Schuyler daughter was the first to marry, and she set a precedent for many of her younger siblings, three of whom followed her example in ignoring their parents’ wishes regarding their romantic lives.

John Barker Church was certainly not an ideal suitor for a daughter of one of the most important families in Albany. At the time, the Englishman was in debt, and worked as an auditor for the Continental Army under the alias “John Carter.” Because he was known in New York under this false identity, rather than under his true name, John was very secretive with details regarding his background, his family, and his past. Specific information about his family or connections back in England ran the threat of revealing the falsehood of the “John Carter” identity, so he was limited in what he could reveal without causing issues for himself with both his family and his new acquaintances. Shortly after the elopemnet, Philip Schuyler aired his frustrations in a letter to William Duer, a friend who was also involved in the ongoing revolution. Philip cited his lack of knowledge regarding the suitor’s background as a major objection to the marriage, and possibly the primary reason he was opposed to it: “Carter & my oldest daughter ran off and married on the 23^rd inst., unacquainted with his family, his connections and situation in life, the match was exceedingly disagreeable to me and I had signified it to him.” [1] While John’s true identity was eventually revealed to his in-laws, they continue to refer to him as “Carter” in letters for quite some time, so it is unclear when his real name was made known to them. 

Not much is definitively known regarding the courtship of John Barker Church and Angelica Schuyler. They likely met in 1776, perhaps when “John Carter” was part of a group selected to audit the accounts of the Northern Department, which was under Philip Schuyler’s command as a major general, but the details of their first meeting and subsequent relationship are few and far between. It appears that prior to the elopement, Angelica and John’s relationship wasn’t a secret romance. Philip’s inclination to “signify” his disapproval of the match to John hints at the Schuylers’ awareness of Angelica and John’s courtship. This may imply that the young couple asked for permission to marry—and were denied. The lack of permission did not deter them. They eloped on June 23^rd, 1777, when John was 28 years of age, and Angelica was 21. This development came at a particularly bad time for Philip, who had recently lost the election for governor, and who was struggling both militarily and politically. His letter to Duer also features extensive complaints about the state of politics at the time, and frustration with his loss, which he felt was unjust. The elopement was yet another unpleasant surprise to return home to.

Angelica Schuyler Church circa 1780s,
attributed to Richard Cosway.

Naturally, Angelica’s parents reacted rather poorly to the marriage. Their objections were so strong that it seems they cast out their own daughter in anger. At the very least, they made her feel unwelcome enough that she, along with her husband, left the house to find another place to stay. The newlyweds sought the aid of Angelica’s maternal grandfather, Johannes van Rensselaer, who lived across the Hudson River from Schuyler Mansion at Fort Crailo in “Greenbush” (current day Rensselaer) with his wife, Catharine’s stepmother. In a letter to Walter Livingston dated to July 2^nd, John explained: “we stopped at GreenBush on Thursday Afternoon, where we were received by the amiable and venerable Proprietors with the Greatest Friendship and cordiality and instantly heard Promises of all their influence being exerted in our favor.” [2] Their hosts were very generous, and their treatment of the young couple was “beyond description charming and affectionate”—a stark contrast to the coldness of Philip and Catharine Schuyler.

The van Rensselaers quickly made good on their promise to help the new Mr. and Mrs. Church. In the same letter, John detailed days worth of peacemaking attempts on the part of Angelica’s grandfather and his wife. Their first attempt to encourage reconciliation was to pass along a letter from Angelica and her husband to Philip and Catharine, who were residing at their home in Saratoga at the time. John wrote: “The General and Mrs S had not arrived here and Mrs. Rennsillear desired the major to go with our Letter to Saratoga. Next morning; he met them at Stillwater coming down on Friday, they took the letter and sent him on…” This effort to connect with Angelica’s parents seems to have been in vain, however. Philip and Catharine returned from Albany and took up residence across the river at Schuyler Mansion that very afternoon, but the letter received no response, either that day or the next. Initial attempts at reconciliation were met with silence. 

A 20th century postcard depicting Fort Crailo.
This was Catharine Van Rensselaer Schuyler’s
childhood home and the location at which
Angelica Schuyler Church and her husband,
John Barker Church, took refuge after they
were exiled for their elopement. 

The slight did not go unnoticed. While Mrs. van Rensselaer encouraged her husband to visit the Schuylers to talk and “make Peace,” he was less willing to extend the olive branch. He believed that “it was his Daughter’s Duty to come to him,” and refused to send for her on the grounds that “her Duty ought to bring her [there] without sending.” Eventually, van Rensselaer yielded to his wife’s wishes, and sent a letter to his daughter and son-in-law inviting them to dinner at his home. After sending this message, he suggested that Angelica and John spend dinner time in Albany rather than with them at the house in Rensselaer—a request that John interpreted as a suggestion to make themselves scarce while Angelica’s parents were visiting in order to avoid further conflict between them. More letters were exchanged to negotiate the time of the meeting, and the Schuylers agreed to visit, but the visit never actually took place. By 8 o’clock that evening, the Schuylers still had not arrived, and the Churches decided to return to Crailo. As they approached the ferry from Albany back across the river, they caught sight of the Schuylers, also seemingly on their way to the very same ferry. Upon seeing their daughter and son-in-law, Philip and Catharine turned back and returned home without ever going to Crailo.

Portrait of Philip Schuyler, Angelica Schuyler
Church’s father, from 1792 by artist John Trumbull.

They tried again on Monday—the Churches once again fled into Albany to leave a clear path for the Schuylers to visit Crailo, and this time, the meeting actually occurred. Unfortunately, John’s letter described it as a very tense exchange:

[…] the General scarcely spoke a dozen Words all the Time, Mrs S was in almost violent Passion and said all that Rage of Resentment could inspire…she exasperated [van Rensselaer], and he told her that he didn’t know who she took after, he was sure not after her Father and Mother…and that he was convinced I would make his child an affectionate Husband, that they might do as they please, but if they would not be reconciled to us, he would look upon us as his Children and that we should stay at his House…

An outburst from Mrs. Schuyler was met with a sharp rebuke from her father: a threat to “look upon [the Churches] as his Children,” possibly suggesting that Catharine’s inheritance could be given to her estranged daughter in her stead. The Schuylers insisted that Angelica and her husband should have talked to them when they encountered one another on Sunday, and should have written to them again, but the van Rensselaers argued that the young couple could not be expected to send more letters when their first had been ignored. The negotiations were ultimately concluded when the Schuylers finally agreed to respond to any messages the Churches sent. They did as they had promised, and while John described their responses as cold, they did agree to have their daughter and son-in-law for a visit at Schuyler Mansion.

John described the Schuylers as treating him and his wife “as cooly as their letter promised.” He presented a rather dramatic and emotional meeting, in which he begged Catharine to accept them back into the family, and implored Philip to “forget what was past.” From Philip’s point of view, however, this meeting seemed to have been largely a formality. Philip’s letter to William Duer stated: “as there is no untying this gordian knot I took what I hope you will think the prudent part: I frowned, I made them humble themselves forgave and called them home.” Philip described the meeting as something of a power play—an assertion of authority over his daughter and son-in-law to make them feel as though they must “humble themselves” to earn his approval. Despite this show of authority, it seems his mind was settled on forgiveness before the Churches arrived and made their declarations. Philip’s conversation with his father-in-law and the negotiations via letters were seemingly enough to settle him on this course, but the conversation allowed him to set himself in a position of power over the man who ran off with his daughter, promising to “take the Freedom of giving [John] advice when he thought [he] stood in need of it with the Candor of a Parent…” John, of course, said what he knew would appease Philip: “I thanked him and told him I should be much obliged to him for it and would always pay a deference to it…” John and Angelica continued to feel unwelcome and unforgiven, believing that the Schuylers had only made peace out of “Fear of disobliging Mr R if they continue their Coldness”, but Philip, at least, claimed to have moved on and accepted the situation. 

Portrait of Angelic Schuyler Church painted circa 1785,
by artist John Trumbull. The image shows Angelica in a
peach colored dress with one of her children and a woman
who is most likely a maid or family member.

Letters were the main mode of communication in the 18th century, and enduring this
upheaval in the Schuyler family was no exception. Much of the negotiations conducted regarding the marriage occurred through letters, but, unfortunately, not all of the letters seemed to have survived to the present day. The two letters cited in this post provide a different—but still valuable—perspective, as they tell us how the men involved perceived the events. As both men wrote to someone removed from the situation, it’s possible they were more honest about their feelings in these letters than they might have been in their letters to one of the people involved in the whole affair. However, it remains unclear what the Churches and Schuylers actually said to one another in these messages back and forth across the river. What justifications might Angelica and her husband have given for their actions? Did they beg forgiveness, express regret? Were the Schuylers truly as frigid as John described them to be? The letters so central to the events of this Schuyler family story cannot provide us with intimate knowledge of how the people involved actually addressed one another. The most glaring absence is the lack of sources directly from the women: the daughter who eloped and the mother driven to “a most violent Passion” by the betrayal. The women’s reactions are described by John—“Angelica is much distressed”—but their own thoughts are notably absent in the narrative. The exact thoughts, feelings, and details surrounding the elopement may remain a mystery, but through the two different accounts, we’re at least able to reconstruct the bare bones of this dramatic chapter in the Schuyler family story. 

 

[1] Letter from Philip Schuyler to William Duer from July 3-5, 1777, in the New York Public Library Schuyler Papers. 

[2] Letter from John Barker Church to Walter Livingston from July 2, 1777. 

“The Liberty to Request:” Angelica Schuyler Church and Slavery

 by Jessie Serfilippi

Letter from Angelica Schuyler Church to John Tayler,
 requesting to purchased an enslaved girl from Mrs. Van Dyck.
Schuyler Mansion State Historic Site Collections. 

Angelica Schuyler Church (1756-1814), the Schuylers’ eldest daughter, traveled a lot throughout the 1780s and 1790s. A few years after her marriage to Englishman John Barker Church (1748-1818) in 1777, she and her husband moved abroad to Paris and London with brief visits home throughout the nearly fifteen years they were away. She traveled between Newport, Boston, Albany, and New York, as well as Paris and London. Before, during, and after her visits home, she consistently looked for and attempted to purchase enslaved people. Recently, Schuyler Mansion acquired a new letter that adds to our knowledge of Angelica as an enslaver, as well as slavery within the wider Schuyler family. 

In 1780, Angelica was living away from Albany with her husband, John Barker Church, who was then using the alias John Carter as he was evading debt in his native England. Under the alias of Angelica Carter, the eldest Schuyler child penned a letter to John Tayler requesting his help in purchasing an enslaved child. Tayler, a man of many hats, often served as a middleman for the Schuylers in various transactions. In this case, Angelica, still living in Boston, asked for his help in purchasing Mrs. Van Dyck’s enslaved child. Referring to herself in the third person, Angelica wrote “Mrs. Carter takes the Liberty to request of Mr. Taylor to purchase for her, the little negro Girl that commonly attends Mrs. Vandyck.” The reason she requested this child in particular was because she heard “Mrs. Vandyck has gone to New York and if that is true tis probable her servants will be sold.”

This letter provides a valuable insight into how the Schuylers, and people of the time period in general, referred to the enslaved. Angelica referred to the people enslaved by Mrs. Van Dyck as “servants,” but they were clearly enslaved because she asked to purchase them. Historians of the 18^th century often see similar references, but in this one, it is made clear that the “servants” have a monetary value prescribed to them and can be purchased. This shows that “servant” was interchangeable with “slave” to families like the Schuylers. These were the common semantics of the 18^th century, even if these words do not hold the same meaning today.

Just two years later, Angelica made a similar request of her parents. In 1782, Philip Schuyler wrote to Angelica that “Your mama will strive all in her power to procure you a good wench they are rare to be met with.”[1] Any follow-up to the letter is unknown, but this assurance from Philip Schuyler that Angelica’s mother was searching for an enslaved girl or woman for Angelica shows that the Churches regularly enslaved people when in the United States. It also shows that Angelica was active in choosing who she wanted to enslave. In the first letter, she sought a young girl enslaved by Mrs. Van Dyck, and, in this letter, she requested her parents find her an enslaved woman. The Schuylers seemingly thought it was natural for them to enslave people, which meant it was likely Angelica did, too.

In 1784, Margaret “Peggy” Schuyler van Rensselaer, Angelica’s younger sister, asked their brother-in-law, Alexander Hamilton, to do a favor for Angelica, who was abroad at the time. Peggy requested that Hamilton contact the man Angelica had sold one of her enslaved people to and ask if she could re-enslave him during her upcoming visit to the United States. Hamilton wrote to John Chaloner, a man with whom the Churches often conducted business, on Angelica’s behalf. This letter to Chaloner shows again how enslaving people was engrained in and natural to the entire Schuyler family. Hamilton wrote:

Mrs. Renselaaer [Peggy Schuyler] has requested me to write to you concerning a negro, Ben, formerly belonging to Mrs. Carter [Angelica] who was sold for a term of years to Major Jackson. Mrs. Church has written to her sister that she is very desirous of having him back again; and you are requested if Major Jackson will part with him to purchase his remaining time for Mrs. Church and to send him on to me.[2]

Angelica had sold Ben for a “term of years” to Major Jackson and was now requesting him back for her brief visit home. In a follow-up letter, Major Jackson wrote he “declines parting with Ben, but says when Mrs Church returns he will let her have him should she request it but will not part with him to any body else.”[3] It’s unclear if this actually happened when Angelica returned, but the request on Angelica’s behalf shows her desire to re-enslave Ben.

In 1797, Angelica and her family returned to New York City from England, where they lived until Angelica’s death in 1814. Shortly before their return, Hamilton once again was engaged as their middleman. His cashbook shows he purchased three people for the Churches: two women and a child.[4] One of the women may have been Sarah, who appeared before the New York Manumission Society in 1799, stating she had been illegally brought to New York from Maryland in 1793, and was sold to the Churches since then.[5] Based on Hamilton’s recorded transactions and when the Churches returned to New York, it’s possible she was one of the women purchased for the Churches before their 1797 return to New York City. She was freed by the New York Manumission Society in 1799.

These letters and sources not only tell us the story of enslavement within the Church household, but more specifically show Angelica’s involvement in the institution of slavery. Far too often, only men are mentioned in sources surrounding enslavement because it is typically their records and their letters that have survived to the present day. While both the letter penned by Philip Schuyler and the one written by Alexander Hamilton show Angelica’s involvement in slavery, the one written in her own hand is an even more direct link. It’s a somewhat rare opportunity to show women were just as directly and fully involved in slavery as men. They not only directed enslaved people on tasks, but actively sought out who they wanted to enslave and engaged in the financial transactions of purchasing people. Angelica Schuyler Church was no exception.

---

[1] “Philip Schuyler to Angelica Schuyler Church, 20 September 1782,” Church Papers, Yale Library.

[2] “From Alexander Hamilton to John Chaloner, [11 November 1784],” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0390. [Original source: The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 3, 1782–1786, ed. Harold C. Syrett. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962, pp. 584–585.]

[3] “To Alexander Hamilton from John Chaloner, 25 November 1784,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-03-02-0392. [Original source: The Papers of Alexander Hamilton, vol. 3, 1782–1786, ed. Harold C. Syrett. New York: Columbia University Press, 1962, pp. 587–588.]

[4] “Account with John Barker Church, [15 June 1797],” Founders Online, National Archives, version of January 18,

2019, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-21-02-0067. [Original source: The Papers of Alexander

Hamilton, vol. 21, April 1797 – July 1798, ed. Harold C. Syrett. New York: Columbia University Press, 1974, pp.

109–112.]

[5] Minutes, May 18, 1791-February 19, 1807, New York Manumission Society Records 1785-1849, Manuscript Collections Relating to Slavery, New York Historical Society, Manhattan, 113.

Part III: Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Morton: Scorned, Miserable, and Passing

 By Sarah Lindecke

Cornelia Schuyler painted by John Trumbull 
in 1792, as part of a series of miniatures 
commemorating George Washington.

In this final installment of the blog series on Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Morton (1775-1808) we will focus on the ending years of her life, from the time of her parents’ deaths in 1803 and 1804, through her own death in 1808, including some details about the people she left behind.

As noted in the previous installment, Cornelia’s choice of a husband was not exactly beloved by her family, and this caused various rifts throughout the years. Despite this, Cornelia was included in the wills of her parents—given a share of the inheritance alongside her living siblings and the children of her deceased ones. In the aftermath of her parents’ deaths, a land dispute between her older sister Eliza Schuyler Hamilton (1757-1854), Cornelia, and their youngest sister, Caty Schuyler Malcolm Cochran (1781-1857) took place. This land dispute started when Cornelia and Caty accused Eliza of taking extra money from her parents after her husband, Alexander Hamilton’s (1755-1804), death. The conflict between the sisters expanded when Cornelia and Caty sought to take land that Eliza had rightfully inherited, but didn’t have the deed for because their father had died before he could finalize it. This scene in Cornelia’s life is fully detailed in a pair of blog posts: Schuyler Siblings Land Squabble Part 1 and My Dear Sister: Eliza and Caty Post Squabble Part 2. While these posts get into the squabble in more detail it is important to note that during the final years of her life, Cornelia was with one of her sisters. It is implied that Cornelia and Caty’s husbands were the ones more insistent on fighting the land battle, though they were not executors of Philip Schuyler’s will. If this is true, Washington Morton was certainly not mending fences with his wife’s family by pressuring a suit about land and inheritances.

A portrait of Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler--Cornelia's 
sister-in-law--painted by Gilbert Stuart as part of a set 
with her husband, Philip Jeremiah Schuyler. The set was 
commissioned by Cornelia and her husband, Washington 
Morton, most likely as a gift for their wedding that took 
place in 1807. 

While Washington Morton may have been causing more issue between Cornelia and her siblings, the two of them were creating a family of their own. Cornelia and Washington Morton’s five children are as follows: Catherine Lynch Van Rensselaer Morton (1799-1887); Capt Alexander Hamilton Morton (1800-1853); Philip Schuyler Morton (1803-?); Mary Regina Morton (1806-1881); and Cornelia Lynch Morton (1808-1831). While there is not much known about the younger years of Cornelia’s children, we do know a bit about the education Catherine van Rensselaer Morton, their first child. In a letter written on December 6^th, 1807, Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler (1786-1852), the wife of Cornelia’s brother Philip Jerimiah Schuyler (1768-1835), wrote of Catherine’s education. When Washington Morton visited Mary Anna at her home in Rhinebeck, he told her about Catherine’s placement in “an excellent school.”[1] Mary Anna then asserted her own contrary knowledge of Catherine’s schooling she’d heard from the young girl herself. Catherine, it seemed, did not enjoy the school her father spoke so highly of. Mary Anna appeared to have received this knowledge from a letter Catherine wrote her. The Mortons likely wanted to provide their children with education, but as it can be seen with their daughter Catherine, the schooling may not have been something they enjoyed.

Not long after this letter was written, Cornelia died. According to letters and obituaries, she passed on June 5^th, 1808, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, at just thirty-three years old. Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler wrote about Cornelia’s death in a letter from June 13^th, 1808, retelling much of the circumstances of her sister-in-law’s passing. She wrote:

She [Cornelia] had been at Philadelphia for four or five weeks past and the information we got was upon the whole she was gaining – this however was incorrect, she has faltered fast and has finally paid the debt of nature – I just got a few hurried lines from Morton – he says she expired ten minutes past ten on the morning of the 5^th instant. Her remains were brought to New York and interred on the 11^th.

I have some of the particulars – … and you will probably get a letter from him – I know your affection will be great, Cornelia endeared herself to all who knew her by her many [virtues] […]

I saw her almost two months since – she was then confined to her bed & much emaciated – but as cheerful & conversable as ever I knew her in health – It would have afforded us inexpressible comfort could her last moments been here – but it was not to be so…

This letter indicates that Cornelia suffered a wasting illness, most likely a cancer. Something she may have had in common with her older sister Margeret “Peggy” Schuyler van Rensselaer (1758-1801), who died from a similar sort of illness. We cannot be sure what the actual cause of Cornelia’s death was, but can take note that she was likely visiting Philadelphia to seek treatment for her illness as the city was a well-known center of emerging medical technology and treatment.

An obituary from a New York City newspaper following her death read:

Died, at Philadelphia, on the 5^th inst. after a lingering illness, Mrs. Cornelia Lynch Morton, the amiable wife of Washington Morton, Esq. of this city. She has left five children, and a numerous circle of friends, to lament the loss of one of the best of mothers and one of the worthiest of women.

The friends of Mr. Morton are invited to attend her funeral from his residence 118 Greenwich street, to morrow afternoon at 5 o’clock.

From this obituary and Mary Anna Schuyler’s record, it appears that Cornelia was missed greatly by her community. She was a dear mother and friend to many. She also may have been the glue holding her family together as after her death, everything fell apart.

Cornelia’s husband was not a shining example of a grieving widower and father during the years following her death. Perhaps Philip Schuyler’s earlier concerns about Washington Morton had been legitimate because Morton entirely abandoned his role as a father following Cornelia’s death. Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler wrote on December 5^th, 1809, to Catherine “Caty” van Rensselaer Schuyler Malcom Cochran (1781-1857):

I understand Morton is leading a very splendid and gay life with a handsome French mistress in London – so much for parental tenderness I sometimes think he has completely abandoned his children.[2]

This letter suggests that Mary Anna and much of the extended Schuyler family lost touch with Washington Morton sometime after Cornelia’s death. Furthermore, Mary Anna’s concern for the Morton children was personal, as she and her husband took a large part in the care of the Mortons’ children after Cornelia’s death and Washington Morton’s abandonment of his family.

Engraving of Washington Morton in 1796, by Charles Balthazar Julien Fevert
de Saint-Memin.

Washington Morton’s unspoken but wayward tendencies were made explicit in Mary Anna’s letter. Philip Schuyler and other family chose to obfuscate some of their concerns, likely assuming the recipients of their correspondence were in the know and didn’t need explicit details. Mary Anna, however, was forthright with her worries. Her words may have validated the various concerns of the Schuylers, even years after they were first written.

Cornelia may not have been alive to see the breakdown of her family, but her children would never live with their father again, as he died in Paris in 1810. They remained with Mary Anna, who seemed to have raised them like they were her own children. Mary Regina Morton inherited much of Mary Anna’s estate and later purchase and revitalized Mary Anna and Philip Jerimiah’s house “the Grove” in Rhinebeck, New York.

Cornelia’s story ended with a somber sadness as she died at a young age and her family was torn apart in the wake of her death, but her witty spirit lives on through the letters she penned and through the bold life choices she made. Thank you for keeping up with our series about Cornelia’s life, and look ahead for some more great posts about some of the other Schuyler siblings.

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[1] Letter written by Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler from Boston on December 6^th 1807?

[2] Letter from Mary Anna Sawyer Schuyler to Catherine “Caty” Schuyler Malcom Cochran from December 5^th, 1809, in the New York State Museum Catherine Schuyler Malcom Cochran collection.

Part II: Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Becomes a Morton: The Elopement at Stockbridge

by Sarah Lindecke

“The Lovers Tryst” by artist Charles Joseph Frederic Soulacroix. The pair in this
portrait are secluded with loving looks upon their faces. Reminiscent of the
sentiments Cornelia and Washington Morton may have experienced in their marriage. 

Welcome back to our blog series on Cornelia Schuyler (1775-1808). In our last blog post, you learned about her childhood and teenage years. This installment will focus on the scandalous elopement of Cornelia Schuyler and George Washington Morton (1776-1810) that took place in 1797, including the Schuyler family responses to the elopement.

There is not a lot known about George Washington Morton, or Washington Morton as he is most often called. He is said to have been born in Essex, New Jersey in 1776, to John Morton (1711-1781) and Maria Sophia Kemper Morton (1738-1832). His birth month and date are not known, but he was the last of six children in the Mortons’ marriage. Despite the minimal knowledge of Washington Morton himself, his father is well known because he was a financial backer for the Continental Congress. John Morton was often referred to as the “Rebel Banker” because he liquidated much of his personal business holdings and funneled his funds to the Continental Congress. This was not officially sanctioned by the rules of the Continental Congress, but it lent John Morton credit as an “alternative funding source for the rebels,” something greatly appreciated at the time.[1] His family also appeared to have supported the rebel military. They furnished the rebel encampment near their home in New Jersey with some supplies while also establishing an army hospital.[2]

 Washington Morton was a lawyer by trade. He trained at Princeton, where he graduated in 1792. It is not known where or how he finished his studies to become a lawyer. The 19^th century book, History of the City of New York: Its Origin, Rise and Progress by Martha Joanna Lamb and Mrs. Burton Harrison, support the claim that he went to Princeton, but the work also heavily romanticized the details of Washington Morton’s younger years, and is one of very few sources that can speak to his history. The authors suggest:

As a youth, more of his time was given to the pleasures of the world than to its affairs. His fondness for athletic exercise led him on one occasion to test his powers of endurance by walking to Philadelphia for a wager. … Upon returning to New York he was lionized.[3]

These details of Washington Morton’s life are generally parroted by other sources, but there are no primary sources to back them up. Furthermore, these authors butchered and rewrote the story of Washington Morton’s elopement with Cornelia, significantly hindering their credibility.

Though we still don’t know everything about Cornelia and Washington Morton’s choice to elope, there is a first-hand account written by Washington Morton, which he wrote to his sister, Eliza Susan Morton Quincy (1774-1850), in the days directly following the event. The letter is dated October 14^th, 1797, and was written from Albany:

I never could excuse it to my ever Dear sister were I permit any time to elapse without informing her of the alteration in my Situation—On Saturday evening the 8 of October Miss Cornelia Schuyler consented to unite her fate with mine—The manner in which she did it flatters me though it must have pained her; Her mother and myself had a difference which extended to the father and I had got my wife in opposition to them both—She leapt from a Two Story Window into my arms and abandoning every thing for me gave the most convincing proof of what a husband most Desires to Know that his wife Loves him—We were united at Stockbridge and spend two days with Mr. Sedgewick—We returned to the Manor of Livingston where I Left my wife with her godmother Mrs. Livingston and came hither to arrange some Business—On Monday I leave for the […] whence I shall go immediately home […]

Thus my dear sister I am at length Lost and the vast field of matrimony is doomed to be my habitation—Also the rest of the family are my warm friends and you must not permit the present difference [existing] between some of us give you uneasiness—for it will be but for a moment.[4]

George Washington Morton painted by Gilbert Stuart.
Part of the set with Cornelia.

Washington Morton’s version of the story is rather romantic and sanitized and makes him sound like an honorable man. Washington Morton was flattered by Cornelia’s decision to forsake her family, despite the obvious nod to the strife within her family caused by their relationship. He seemed to be quite comfortable with her choice to risk physical danger by jumping out of her second story window. However, beneath the obvious self-flattery of this letter, there is an interesting detail to question. Why was Washington Morton “in disagreement” with the Schuylers and what other sources speak to this split between the Schuylers and Mortons?

The Schuylers themselves never made official or direct reference to what their concern was with Washington Morton. The first mention of Morton was written by Cornelia’s father, Philip Schuyler, to her older sister, Eliza Schuyler Hamilton (1751-1854), on November 26^th, 1797, just a month after the wedding had occurred. The section about Cornelia reads:

I have by the mail that conveys this written a letter to my unhappy Cornelia and in the spirit which you wish. I hope it will restore peace to her mind, if she can possibly enjoy it, with a man of such untoward disposition as her husband – I apprehend very much that he will render her miserable, and increase my affliction, - interpose your advice to her, and intreat my Hamilton to exert his endeavors to bring her husband to reason perhaps that he may still be reclaimed and become intitled to our attentions.[5]

Here no direct mention is made to the disagreements between the Schuylers and Mortons, but, evidently, even within a month of their wedding, there were significant issues within the family. One thing to keep in mind is that we cannot be sure if Philip Schuyler was projecting his own unfounded thoughts about the couple or accurately predicting Cornelia’s future in this letter to Eliza. Philip Schuyler feared for his own health should his daughter’s marriage prove to be as unhappy as he suspected, but instead of pushing his daughter away, he hoped to see their relationship repaired.

There are more references made to Washington Morton’s “incorrigible” behavior, as Philip Schuyler called it. Washington Morton’s conduct appeared to remain something of a spectacle for the well-to-do Schuylers who were personally concerned about their daughter and the life she would lead with Washington Morton. In a letter written by Philip Schuyler to his son Philip Jerimiah Schuyler (1768-1835) on November 20^th of 1801, he stated:

Mr. Morton and your sister leaves this to morrow [sic], his conduct whilst here has been unusual, most preposterous. Seldom an evening at home, and seldom even at dinner – I have not thought it prudent to say the least word to him on the occasion, as advice on such an irregular character is thrown away.[6]

The Schuylers concerns about the Mortons remained somewhat vague. Philip Schuyler wasn’t making a lot of effort to lump Cornelia in with the irregularities, but still refered to the Mortons as a unit. It appears that Schuyler took more issue with Washington Morton’s choice to balk tradition because his choices pushed against usual social conventions. Yet for all the issues he took with Washington Morton’s actions, Philip Schuyler appeared to be so disinterested in correcting the wrongs that he couldn’t be bothered to speak with him, even to offer advice.

When read together, these letters suggest that Cornelia’s family disliked Morton from the outset no matter the arguments or promises Cornelia could make to her family. Despite this rather negative view of the marriage, it was still a productive one as Cornelia had five children with Washington Morton before her passing in 1808.

 Coming soon, check out the final blog in our Cornelia series where her untimely death at thirty-three years old will be discussed, as well as what would come of her family in the following years.

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[1] John Morton - General Washington's Rebel Banker Hid in Basking Ridge - Mr. Local History Project (mrlocalhistory.org) and John Morton (1711-1781) - HouseHistree

[2] John Morton - General Washington's Rebel Banker Hid in Basking Ridge - Mr. Local History Project (mrlocalhistory.org) and John Morton (1711-1781) - HouseHistree

[3] From the History of the City of New York: Its Origin, Rise and Progress Volume 3 by Martha Joanna Lamb and Mrs. Burton Harrison

[4] Letter from Washington Morton to Eliza Susan Morton Quincy from Albany on October 14^th, 1797, Quincy Papers in the Massachusetts Historical Society.

[5] Letter from Philip Schuyler to Eliza Schuyler Hamilton from Albany on November 26^th 1797, in the Library of Congress Hamilton Papers: 2017 Addition: covering years 1796-1799.

[6] Letter from Philip Schuyler to Philip Jerimiah Schuyler from Albany on November 20^th, 1801.

Part I: Cornelia Lynch Schuyler: A Beauty Matched with Wit

by Sarah Lindecke

Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Morton painted by Gilbert Stuart in
1807 as part of a portrait set with her husband Washington Morton.
The set was a gift to the couple from Cornelia’s brother Philip Jeremiah
and his wife Mary Anna in return for the portrait set they’d received. 

In this three-part-blog-series, we’ll chronicle the life and circumstances of Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Morton (1775-1808), one of the five Schuyler sisters, from her early life to her scandalous elopement with George Washington Morton (1776-1810), and to her unfortunate death at just thirty-three years of age. In this first installment, we’ll explore Cornelia’s childhood and teenage years. 

Cornelia Lynch Schuyler Morton (1775-1808) was born December 22nd, 1775, to Philip John Schuyler (1733-1804) and Catherine van Rensselaer Schuyler (1734-1803). She was the thirteenth of the fifteen children the Schuyler couple had together. Her birth came at an auspicious time for her family. Earlier that year, her father, Philip Schuyler, was made a Major General in the Continental Army, bringing him expanded power and prominence. 

Cornelia was very young when the American Revolutionary War was waged, and the tumult of the times may help explain why records of her childhood are few and far between. In 1783, when she was eight years old, the American Revolutionary War officially ended, and the wider world opened to Cornelia as she started her schooling. A Schuyler receipt from September 26th, 1783, set payment for the education of three children until February for a total of fifteen pounds, four pence at the Academy at Albany, a precursor to the present Albany Academy. The other two children receiving an education alongside Cornelia, per the receipt, were Cornelia’s older brothers Philip Jeremiah (1768-1835) and Rensselaer (1773-1847), who were fifteen and ten years old respectively. At the Academy she and her brothers would have learned the regular subjects of school at this time such as history, reading, writing, economics, and some basic sciences. Her brothers would have received the subjects of animal husbandry and navigation, subjects that were not perceived as useful for the young girls to learn. 

Alongside these common subjects, as a young girl, Cornelia would also have studied the “feminine arts,” such as needlework, painting, drawing, dancing, music, etc. Though records of Cornelia receiving these sorts of tutoring do not exist, she evidently practiced drawing as a letter her father wrote on June 20th, 1790, suggests he was frustrated that drawings she made did not get delivered to her mother. Cornelia’s years of education would prepare her for life as a “gentleman’s daughter.” Her father styled himself as such and thus expected that his children would present themselves as well-educated persons in all the right and honorable subjects. (If you are interested to hear more about education of the Schuyler children, look to "I shall most cheerfully pay": The Education of Caty Schuyler). 

Cornelia’s education was a backdrop for the creation of a well-formed young woman, but what was she like outside her studies? As a young person, Cornelia was described as a great beauty. Alexander Coventry, a visitor to the Schuyler’s between September 17th, 1785, and October 19th of the same year, is the first to describe Cornelia’s appearance in his personal diaries, he wrote that one of the Schuyler daughters held “the appearance of a future beauty.” Later on in his visit, he wrote of a young lady about ten years of age who was “so elegantly dressed, and had a fine person: fair hair and black eyes.” Most of the people who met Cornelia described her in a similar fashion. Even her later portrait shows she had fair features and light hair starkly contrasted with dark "almost black” eyes. 

Stephen van Rensselaer III painted by Gilbert Stuart. 

Cornelia has often been characterized as “the pretty sister,” which would not be a false statement, but this one-dimensional characterization eclipses the rather playful and sparky personality she appears to have had from the letters she wrote. Most of Cornelia’s surviving correspondence are letters written to Stephen van Rensselaer (1764-1839), the husband of her older sister Margarita “Peggy” Schuyler van Rensselaer (1758-1801). Cornelia is rather tongue-in-cheek in her January 12th, 1795, letter to Stephen, when she called herself his “saucy sister” after she was left behind in Albany when the van Rensselaer’s changed residences. The van Rensselaer’s were moving their residence to New York City at this time in the event that Stephen van Rensselaer became the Lieutenant Governor of New York. Seemingly, with Cornelia’s youthful impatience, as she was twenty years old at the time, when the letter went unanswered by her brother-in-law, as she wrote again to him later that month on January 31st, 1795, asserting that: 

I feared the amusements of New York that seat of fashion that repository of frolic and fun in short of all that’s delicious, would drive from your mind (as it has from your wife’s) the friend and Sister whom you could remember in a less agreeable place…perhaps business or the delightful idea of soon being lieutenant governor, had deprived me of the pleasure of hearing from you, if so I beg pardon, and promise never to write or offend again…indeed it would be hazarding to much the loss of your good opinion which I should sincerely regret and which by silence I may still retain… 

In this first part of her letter, Cornelia wrote whimsically about New York City. She seemingly thought it was a place of wonder, excitement, and opportunity, all of which she likely had witnessed first-hand during her young adult years when she lived in New York City with her sister, Eliza, while being tutored. However, Cornelia was also frustrated in this letter as she did not get a response from her brother-in-law in a timely manner. Her threat to Stephen was to never contact him again, as evidently it would “offend” him if she continued writing to him. Yet her diatribe at Stephen did not conclude there. She continued her letter, writing: 

Upon my word Brother as you grow old you grow ill natured, and I shall be free to tell you I hate you for not acqua(i)nting me how all the beaus in N York are, and what handsom [sic] things they say of me…should you chance to see my sweet heart, Jones pray tell him I am well, and think myself twenty time handsomer then ever the men tell me… 

Cornelia’s consummate wit shines through here. She playfully bore down on Stephan van Rensselaer for his failure to reply as a tender reckoning of his old age and poor temperament. What is even more interesting from this second part of the letter, however, is Cornelia’s reference to her “sweetheart, Jones.” It appears from this addition to her letter that Cornelia’s first encounters with romance were not with her husband, George Washington Morton (1776-1810), but rather with others she met during her young adult years. The identity of this “Jones” is unknown, but evidently Cornelia felt fondly for the man, whether in a serious or playful manner. From this section of her letter, we can read some bit of vanity or desire to be seen as beautiful, but also in Cornelia’s tone we can read a proclamation that she is indeed desirable. She is confident of her beauty, but also that her wit is on par or exceeding those in her set. 

Cornelia’s life would heat up significantly in the later years of the 1790s as she, like two previous siblings, chose a non-traditional route to marriage: elopement. Her methods of marriage are almost as interesting as the man she chooses to marry, George Washington Morton. The next installment in the blog series will take a look at Cornelia’s interesting choice in a husband as well as the ways she broke tradition, for better or for worse.

Sources

Letter written by Philip Schuyler (1733-1084) to Eliza Hamilton on June 20^th, 1790 in New York City from the NYPL Schuyler Papers (not available digitally).

Excerpts from the Journal of Alexander Coventry (1783-1831) from the September 23^rd  and October 19^th, 1785.

Letter from Cornelia Lynch Schuyler to Stephen Van Rensselaer, Albany January 12^th, 1795, from the Van Rensselaer Manor Papers in the NYS Archives.

Letter from Cornelia Lynch Schuyler to Stephen Van Rensselaer, Albany January 31^st, 1795, from the Van Rensselaer Manor Papers in the NYS Archives. 

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.