One Fish, Two Fish, Red White and Blue Fish

 by Kayla Whitehouse

This weekend marks the 250^th anniversary of the passage of the New England Trade and Fisheries Act, given royal assent on March 30, 1775. As the first of the two Restraining Acts, the Fisheries Act was passed by Great Britain in response to the growing unrest and civil disobedience in the colonies. Specifically, this act restricted trade and limited exportation and importation of goods to and from Great Britain, Ireland, and “British Dominions in Europe.” It also set regulations aimed at protecting British fishing interests in Newfoundland. Under this act, only vessels with a special certificate given by the British government were allowed to fish off the coast of Newfoundland “and the seas adjacent,” meaning the Atlantic coast of the American colonies.

The act effectively made it illegal for American colonists to fish in the Atlantic. Failure to abide by the restrictions in the act were punished with fines of up to £500, or the equivalent of over $130,000 today, depending on the offense, and any fishing equipment and boats were liable to be confiscated by the British.

In the North American colonies, people in all coastal cities fished in the Atlantic, meaning this prohibition had significant effects on the local economies. According to the New England Historical Society, from 1768 to 1772, 35% of New England exports were fish – most of which were traded in the West Indies for sugar, molasses, and rum. And although the Fisheries Act only specifically pertained to the four New England colonies (Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island), it affected all the colonies. Codfish from Newfoundland was sold in cities all along the Atlantic coast, and all of the colonies benefited from the codfish shipped to the Caribbean, receiving in exchange the cheap sugar, molasses, and enslaved people that were traded for salted cod. In fact, Atlantic fishing off the coast of Newfoundland was so important to the American colonies, that when the Treaty of Paris was written in 1783 to negotiate the end of the Revolutionary War, an explicit “Right to take Fish … on the Banks of Newfoundland” was included as the third article of the treaty – right after the confirmation of the United States’ independence, and the demarcation of our borders.

"A Parcel of Fine Dry Codfish", New-York Gazette, or Weekly Post-Boy, November 19, 1750.
This advertisement announces the sale of Codfish from Newfoundland in New York City in 1750.

By making it illegal to fish in the Atlantic, and only allowing trade with Britain (and therefore outlawing trade to the West Indies), the British government severely curtailed both a major source of income and a major source of food for the colonies.

Allotments to American troops showed just how important fish was to the colonists’ diet. During the Revolutionary War, American soldiers were allotted one pound of fish each week in their provisions. To get an idea of how much fish that would require, consider that the Revolutionary War was an eight-year campaign and an average of 40,000 men served in the Continental Army at any given time. This meant that each week over 40,000 pounds of fish needed to be caught and transported to army settlements. A ban on ocean fishing had the potential to leave many soldiers without sustenance. The troops were usually spread throughout the Colonies, but large numbers of men were gathered for significant battles, requiring large amounts of food. For example, there were 9,000 American men at the first Battle of Saratoga, but, with reinforcements, there were over 15,000 men there by the time of the British surrender.

If they couldn’t fish in the Atlantic Ocean, how did they feed all of those soldiers?

Luckily for the men at Saratoga, they were fighting along the Hudson River! (In fact, the site of the 1777 surrender is just about a mile away from the river.) Although the NYS DEC does not recommend eating any fish from the Hudson River these days due to pollutants in the water, in the 18^th century, the Hudson was a great source of fish for soldiers and civilians alike.

A publication written in 1794 described the fishing:

“In Hudson’s River, which runs from above Albany to New York, sturgeon is caught in large quantities. … I have been informed that as much sturgeon may be purchased for sixpence as would serve a moderate sized family for a day : their neighbours in derision call it Albany Beef. The oysters here are of an enormous size, indeed so much so as rather to excite disgust.”

                                                                                                        Letters on Emigration, p. 35-36

The Atlantic Sturgeon are still sometimes seen in the Hudson River. Although, due to regulations from overfishing, we can no longer catch and enjoy the “Albany Beef” that many 18^th century Albanians would have eaten. But if you were interested in knowing how the sturgeon were eaten, here is a recipe for Pickled Sturgeon, from Maria Van Rensselaer, who lived at the nearby Cherry Hill property in Albany.

Dining Chamber

This model, in the Visitor's Center, gives an impression
of the working courtyard which once stood, connected
by a covered walkway, to the back of the house. This area
would have been the working, and likely living area for
the people enslaved by the Schuyler family. The kitchen
was the second building on the north wall of the courtyard.

"Dining rooms" as we know them today - a separate space used only for meals and post-meal socialization - did not become popular in America until the 1790s. Since most houses in Europe and the Colonies were only one or two rooms, the concept of using one's limited space for a singular purpose was not even possible for most families. Though this space would have served other purposes in the early years of the house, the Schuylers would have been early adapters of the dining chamber.

The novelty of this type of space would have been only the beginning of the decadence of this room when the Schuylers entertained guests. Polished silver and wood work, shining mirrors, exotic fruits, and elegant twisted-stem glassware reflected a deep sense gentility. The silver epergne on the side board, which displayed fruits, desserts or garnishes, is an original family piece, engraved with Schuyler's crest. 

Volunteer Donald Hyman portrays Prince, a valet
and personal attendant enslaved by Philip Schuyler.
He is dressed in livery - the wool and silk uniform worn
by household servants who would be seen by guests.

The status of the family would have been further displayed by the presence of enslaved servants. The men, and sometimes young boys [read more about Hanover, a child born into enslavement at the house], clad in bright yellow livery coats waited upon the Schuylers and their guests at meals. The absence of windows along the east wall helped to hide the labor taking place in the courtyard from view, including the food preparation, which was done by enslaved women in a detached kitchen [read about uncovering the identities of these female slaves]. The door on the east wall would have led into a covered walkway that attached the working buildings of the courtyard and allowed food to be brought directly into this space.

On the same wall are portraits of middle son Philip Jeremiah and his second wife, Mary Ann Sawyer. Philip Jeremiah attended Trinity College (formerly Kings College, currently Columbia University) and became a New York State Assemblyman, and is often considered the most successful of the three sons. The second youngest daughter, Cornelia, is depicted on the south wall with her husband, Washington Morton, with whom she eloped in October of 1797. Morton claims that Cornelia leapt from a second-story bedroom window in order to elope with him, but other parts of the story (and common sense) suggest that this was exaggeration. All four paintings are by artist Thomas Sully, who was commissioned by the two couples in turn to paint portraits as gifts to one another. Sully also painted the portrait of president Andrew Jackson which is currently on the US twenty dollar bill.

Left; Sarah Rutsen Schuyler and Right; Philip Jeremiah Schuyler. Young Philip's first wife Sarah died in childbirth. The fact that multiple portraits are available of Philip J. while no portraits seem to exist of oldest son John B. or youngest son Rensselaer Schuyler, is an indicator of the comparative success of this middle son. Note also the changes in  hair and clothing styles from these Robere portraits (c.1795) to the Thomas Sully paintings (c.1810) in the dining chamber.

As You Exit :

You will pass through the Back Hall

Left will bring you to the Central Hall

Straight ahead, you will find the Library

Right will bring you upstairs into the Salon

Other Rooms:

Formal Parlor

Family Parlor

Blue Chamber (Upstairs)

Yellow Chamber (Upstairs)

Green Chamber (Upstairs)

The Cost of Comfort: Philip Schuyler's 1761 Expenses

By Jessie Serfilippi and Ian Mumpton

An 18th century mirror in the
Yellow Parlor.

In 1761, Philip Schuyler made his only trip across the Atlantic to England, where he intended to purchase furnishings and other items for the mansion he was constructing in Albany. This year not only represents a unique time in Schuyler’s life, but it’s also a year we have a wealth of documentation for in the form of a recreated inventory compiled from surviving receipts. Yet, even with all the documents we do have, there are likely many receipts we’re missing. It is important to note that this recreated inventory does not include food or most pieces of clothing. Neither Carpeting costs nor the amount spent on the actual construction of the Albany mansion are included, either. It also does not include major pieces of furniture, such as chairs, tables, sofas, or beds.

Area above the fireplace in the
Yellow Parlor where Schuyler may
have hung a mirror he purchased.

The only pieces of furniture that Schuyler brought back from England were “3 look’g glass” and “1 fine middle glass.” These pieces were mirrors, which were either used as looking glasses or were hung above fireplaces to make rooms brighter and larger looking. He may have decided to purchase furniture upon his return to New York to avoid the risk of water damage on the journey home and to save the cost of shipping. 

What we are about to dive into is certainly not everything Philip Schuyler purchased in 1761, but it will give us a glimpse into his lifestyle and wealth.  

Schuyler managed to ring up a big total in 1761-- £872. Today, this amount of money would translate to $1,594,249.75 when compared to the median income of an Albany citizen. But what did it mean in Schuyler’s time? To get a better idea, let’s compare this amount of money to average wages of the period (1750-1775) using statistics put out by US Bureau of Labor Statistics.  

Job	£ Made Per Year
Laborer	31.2
Weaver	40
Carpenter	62.4
Bricklayer	93.6

It would take the average laborer over twenty-seven years to purchase everything Schuyler did in one—and that’s only if the laborer put all the money they made toward this effort, which would be impossible, as it does not include necessities for survival such as food or clothing. It would take the average bricklayer over nine years to do the same. Using the same sum of money, Schuyler could have bought 498 bushels of wheat, which would have made about 27,786.75 loaves of bread. This could feed one person for 37 years at the average rate of consumption, or a family of eight for 4.63 years. The amount Schuyler spent was extravagant, and so was what he purchased.

Some of what Schuyler bought was practical. For example, he purchased “2 doz brass drawer locks,” “1 doz strait cupboard locks,” and “13 gross inch screws.” He bought “1 bag buttons” and “12 doz best coat buttons.” He also purchased some clothing, including six pairs of grey breeches, six pairs of “shoes bound,” and one pair of “strong boots.” While the clothing he purchased may have sustained him for that year, he likely purchased more clothing for Catharine and their children, who at that time included Angelica, Elizabeth, Peggy, and, briefly, a baby girl named Cornelia who died at about a month old. 

An original silver spoon and
tea cup, and a replica teapot
atop a silver platter. 

Reproduction syllabub atop
a silver waiter.

Schuyler spent money on many important household goods that would be used by the family for decades to come, but he also didn’t spare expense on them. In addition to some practical pieces, he purchased many items the average 18^th century family would likely go without. These pieces showed his status. Some of what be bought included: “blades forks with 3 prongs,” “6 large water glasses & saucers,” “12 polished spoons,” “birch handle carving knives,” “a tea pot,” “a sugar dish,” “24 strong wine glasses,” “4 jelly glasses,” “2 sillabub glasses,” “8 baskets with flower handles,” and “1 plain silver waiter.” A major sign of his status in these purchases included getting different glasses for various types of drinks. The amount of wine glasses he purchased also suggests that he would be hosting large groups of people, which also implied his wealth and status. 

An 18th century magic lantern. 

There were also more obvious ways he showed off his wealth. Among his many purchases in 1761, four stand out as the most extravagant. He purchased both a “reflecting telescope” and a “triple barometer.” He purchased a magic lantern and pictures to go in it, as well. He also bought a “crane necked chariot.” That purchase alone cost him £95. That is over 300% of the average laborer’s salary. If an average family in Albany were to make a purchase of a similar scale today, it would cost them $173, 687.19. 

An 18th century Benjamin Martin
telescope.

While the chariot was a status symbol—one he could ride around in—the first two items seem to have been tailored to his personal interests. He purchased them from a man named Benjamin Martin, an Englishman known for making clocks, as well as reflecting telescopes and triple barometers. The magic lantern was also an item of pleasure, though likely one that was shared by the entire family and guests, unlike the reflecting telescope and triple barometer. 

Schuyler also spent a large sum of money on wallpaper for his home during 1761. He purchased “56 pieces flock paper” to cover the walls of seven out of eight rooms in the home. He also bought “10 paintings of ruins of Rome” for the up and downstairs hallways. These purchases alone cost him £31.65—slightly more than what the average laborer made each year.

Original marble around the
fireplace in the Yellow Parlor.

His extravagance did not stop there. Schuyler purchased “2 new Italian marble slabs-case & packing,” and “4 marble chimney pieces with hearths.” Marble was extremely expensive—even Schuyler could not afford too much of it, but he was still able to purchase some—a feat that would have been impossible for the average 18^th century person. On marble alone, Schuyler spent £48.55, or roughly $93,548. 

Reproduction flocked wallpaper
in Schuyler's study.

We have restored some of the most important pieces Schuyler purchased during his shopping spree in England, such as the Ruins of Rome wallpaper and much of the flocked wallpaper, and are constantly working on making the home as accurate to Schuyler’s lifetime as possible. Come visit us to get a feel for the 18^th century opulence Schuyler so highly valued and take in for yourself the extravagance his 1761 trip brought to the Schuyler Mansion.

“…More scarce and nearly as dear:” The Schuyler-Hamilton Family, Illness, and Food Shortages

Alexander Hamilton painted
by James Sharples; 1796.

By Jessie Serfilippi

Today we’re facing so many challenges at once: fear and worry for the health of loved ones and ourselves, shortages of food and supplies, and an uncertain economic future. Our fears today were once the fears of the Schuylers, Hamiltons, and everyone else in their 18th century world. This letter from Alexander Hamilton to his wife, Elizabeth, serves as a glimpse into some of their fears and worries in 1796.

On October 26, 1796, Hamilton wrote a letter to Elizabeth from her father’s home in Albany. He wrote: “I was consoled to hear that you & our darling little ones were well—though I shall be anxious till I rejoin you lest there should be a relapse or some new attack.”

Hamilton may have been referring to an unspecified illness Eliza and their children had recovered from, or to the dreaded Yellow Fever, which hit New York City once again in 1796. In either case, the resurgence of this deadly illness must have weighed heavily upon the family’s minds since the Hamiltons had so narrowly survived the 1793 epidemic in Philadelphia. 

While Hamilton worried for his family’s health, his father-in-law, Philip Schuyler, was dealing with his own chronic health issues. Schuyler seems to have suffered another round of ulcers and sores on his legs, but Hamilton informed Eliza her father was “really better and as I hope in no present danger.” He continued with more good news. Schuyler’s “breaking out” did not appear to be “mortification,” which in the 18th century referred to gangrene. 

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton
painted by James Sharples; 1796.

Following the good news of her father’s health, Hamilton broke a bit of bad news to Eliza. While her sister Peggy had beef ready to go down the Hudson to her, Hamilton stated “Eggs are more scarce & nearly as dear as at New York. I shall see what can be done as to butter.” 

This shortage does not appear to have been related to Yellow Fever, but rather to what is now known as the Panic of 1796-1797, during which the United States and Great Britain took economic hits. The ramifications of the downward economic spiral really hurt shop owners and artisans, and caused widespread shortages, likely including the shortage on eggs Hamilton mentioned.

It is unknown if Hamilton was able to find the eggs and butter Eliza needed to make many basic and necessary foods. They, like so many other New Yorkers, may have had to do completely without such foods or with a depleted supply for some time. 

1796 was a tense and turbulent year for the Hamiltons and Schuylers. While they were separated during this time of uncertainty, they relied on the one form of long-distance social communication available to them: letters. Just like phone calls and video chats allow us to connect with loved ones right now, letters offered the Schuylers and Hamiltons the same comfort and reassurance when they couldn’t physically be together.  

For more on the Schuylers, Hamiltons, and Yellow Fever click here.

"The Noble North American Groundhog": Philip Schuyler's Underappreciated Engineering Inspiration

The guffaws of neither gentlemen of Agriculture nor polite Society, will ever shake me from my maintenance that the creature most Worth[y] of emulation & praise is the Noble north American Ground Hog.                                                                                                  -Philip Schuyler, to John Cadwalader, November 6^th, 1785

 

A groundhog, or woodchuck, outside of its burrow in Quebec.

While best-known as a general and politician, Philip Schuyler’s primary occupation over the course of his life was that of the “gentleman farmer”. Though he seldom labored in the fields himself, much of his time was taken up with the management of thousands of acres of farmland, the transport and sale of crops from that land, and the pursuit of more sophisticated scientific approaches to agriculture. It can be surprising to learn, therefore, that Schuyler could speak so highly of the North American woodchuck, or groundhog. And yet, the generational feud that has existed between farmers and groundhogs since the first crop was planted in North America notwithstanding, for Philip Schuyler, this creature held a fascination bordering on obsession.

In 1785, just as Cadwalader was helping to found the Philadelphia Society for the Promotion of Agriculture and Agricultural Reform, Philip Schuyler penned the words above. He went on to explain his appreciation of the groundhog, saying: 

Cadwalader and family, by Charles Wilson Peale

The greatest agrarian minds in New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and elsewhere have sought to best the groundhog, to no avail, and though they rant and rave to the point of apoplexy at the depredations done by this denizen of our fields and forests, neither the most inspired creations of their minds, nor the furor of all their vented spleen can scarce suffice to protect a single lettuce should this furred artificer of the soil select it for consumption... In their mannerisms they are neat and tidy, practicing good grooming and washing their faces in like manner to squirrels, cats, and rakecoons [sic] and the better sort of persons. They are as attentive to their young as the most doting parent, and cooperate with one another in the industrious construction of their sprawling domiciles or dens. Their patient procurement of foodstuffs against the harsh winter months ought be a measured example to the young and reckless Farmer who seeks to sell all he may with no thought to laying by a stock against want or poor markets, and their coats are markable [sic] soft and warm for a creature that lives so much of its life in the soil - more so than musk rats [sic], though not so suitable for hats as beaver when it was more plentiful. In short, while they may plague our crops and frustrate our ambitions at every turn, the ground hog is better regarded as a Teacher to men such as ourselves, rather than an Adversary.

Despite Schuyler’s reputation as a respected farm manager himself, Cadwalader was unconvinced, and said so to fellow progressive agriculturalist, George Logan in a letter just a few weeks later, on November 23rd:

…I have received another letter from Ph. Scuyler [sic] at Albany on the subject of Ground Hogs. I own the man is a self-taught genius on many matters relating to our Fields -should you pardon my punning- but to hear him write so much on the subject of this garden posst [sic- pest] strains credulity. How can this be the same man whose flax mills garner such praise?

From this letter, it seems that this was not the first time Schuyler had expounded upon the qualities of the woodchuck. In fact, evidence of his interest in the creature can be traced back to the 1750’s at least. According to Schuyler Mansion site director Heidi Hill, “Philip Schuyler long marveled over the engineering prowess of the groundhogs of NYS…first taking note of the groundhog’s genius as it relates to root and bolder support and bearing weight in an elaborate maze of woodchuck dens he discovered near Lake Oneida while stationed there during the French and Indian conflict.”

Philip Schuyler's proposed plan for the use of 
tunnels to seize French food supplies from the
storehouse, bakery, and gardens at Frontenac
as outlined on a British map of the fort.

Further evidence of his appreciation can likewise be traced to his early military service in a letter from Schuyler to his mentor, John Bradstreet. Bradstreet was one of the leading British military officers in North America. In 1758, Bradstreet was attempting to capture the vital French fortification at Frontenac, near modern day Kingston, Ontario. In laying plans for the anticipated siege, Philip Schuyler apparently looked to woodchucks for inspiration once again, suggesting that, “...should the French prove firm in their defense, hunger has a way of breaking men of their resolve. I propose that a team of sappers be employed at good rates as to instill a sense of expedition in them, that they might dig under the walls of the fortress and, locating the French food supplies, make off with them, as does the wily ground hog or, as the French in Canada call it, the siffleux.”

Bradstreet, however, elected not to take his protégé’s advice in this case, replying, “as to the ground hog plan, we have neither the men nor the time to undertake such a digging, and if we had, what cause would I have not to simply send in soldiers to effect a capture through these tunnels? I suggest we look to another animal for our guide in this matter, perhaps I might suggest a more martial creature?” Fortunately for the British, following a well-orchestrated campaign, Frontenac surrendered after a two-day siege.

Recently, further evidence has been found in Schuyler’s original plans for the construction of his Albany mansion. Visitors often ask if Philip Schuyler had a secret escape tunnel leading out of the home, in case of attack. While there is no evidence that it was ever constructed, his early notes on the project include a letter to his friend Abraham Ten Broeck in which Schuyler wrote, “As for the matter of selecting a plot upon which to situate the House I intend, it is best it be atop a hill, with a good view of the river, plenty of cultivatable land about it, and perhaps a stream for maintaining a mill. The soil must needs be firm enough for reliable construction, but not so stony as to preclude the digging of passages such as we have spoken of.”

It has always been assumed that the “passages” he referred to were for storage or some sort of unspecified industrial application, however, in January of 2022, archivists Jan Mack and Allan Dyssop found documents that radically altered our understanding of the process of designing the home: Philip Schuyler’s original, hand-sketched blueprints for what would become Schuyler Mansion. What they saw was surprising, to say the least!

According to Mack and Dyssop, “Philip Schuyler likely drafted these plans well before ever purchasing the plot of land on the hill overlooking the Dutch Reformed Church’s pastureland, so it is unsurprising that it differs significantly from the ultimate construction. The most notable change, however, really took us off guard. As you can see from the lines radiating off of the sides of the house, it appears that Schuyler saw his home as the hub of a vast system of underground tunnels connecting him to various locations in the city of Albany and the surrounding area. From his notes on the paper, it appears that his inspiration for this design was the burrow pattern of a woodchuck or groundhog.”[1]

Philip Schuyler's early vision for his estate, complete with groundhog-inspired subterranean passageways. The eventual construction was moved to the south side of the Beaverkill (shown at left), and the tunnel-plan was abandoned.

The locations connected by the tunnel system include the Dutch Church, Schuyler’s mother’s house, and the home of his friend Abraham Ten Broeck. While there are still many questions to answer, staff at Schuyler Mansion are excited. “This is just incredible,” says Ian Mumpton, historic site assistant, “I mean this is literally incredible information.”

Today is April 1^st, meaning reservations are now available for our April tour dates. Check out our Facebook page for more information about visiting the site this month, and we will hope to see you soon!

**********

Happy April Fools!

Yes, it’s that time again where we make stuff up, but as usual, the prank article contains references to plenty of fascinating real history! So, what's real?

To start with, Schuyler, Cadwalader, and Morgan were all prominent agriculturalists of their day, and leaders in the post-Revolutionary War effort to modernize and expand scientific agriculture in the early United States republic. You can learn more about the formation of the Philadelphia Society for the Promotion of Agriculture here and explore sources related to it here. You can also click here for sources about the New York Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, Arts, and Manufactures, the origin of the Albany Institute of History and Art. Founded in New York City in 1791, the organization moved from NYC to Albany in 1797, and their history is closely connected to the Schuyler family and the mansion! Similarly, Schuyler’s flax mills really were a key part of his agricultural empire, and garnered praise and awards in their day. (Check back soon for an article about the exhibit expansion currently in the works, that will include an opportunity for visitors to “talk” with a tenant laborer about what work was like in the flax mill!)

While Schuyler did not propose groundhog-related stratagems to his commander during the French and Indian war, he did serve with distinction under Bradstreet, and was involved in the logistics of military operations against the French colonial empire in Canada. He did traverse Oneida lake en-route to Oswego, and was involved in the campaign to capture of Frontenac. He knew the importance of supply lines intimately, and was well aware of how precarious an operation or defense could become without food! The map of Frontenac shown is real as well and can be viewed here (minus the added groundhog tunnels of course), courtesy of the Massachusetts Historical Society. The same source also includes maps of the defenses built at Oneida lake during the conflict, as well as Forts Stanwix, Ticonderoga, and Ontario, Schenectady and Albany, and many other locations Schuyler visited over the course of his service in the French and Indian war and the Revolution.

As we noted last year, Schuyler was close friends with Abraham Ten Broeck, and talked with him about many of his plans over the course of his life. “Brahm” was likely Philip’s closest friend, besides his wife Catharine, and had Philip intended to build a woodchuck warren beneath his mansion, would almost certainly have been roped into the plan. As it is, the thought of Philip Schuyler and his best friend sneaking off to the coffeehouse together through their secret tunnel must be written off as the product of an overactive imagination.

As some folks caught, we were “making this up” with archivist authors Mack and Dyssop. Similarly their editor, Anne Notherpun is another pun, and their publisher is in fact, not a real press (and therefore not located in the Pennsylvania town universally associated with Groundhog’sDay in the US). But while the names were nothing more than fun wordplay, the uncovering of old documents capable of shedding new light on old ideas is very real, and very topical, here at Schuyler Mansion. Whether through newly acquired or discovered documents, revisiting old sources with fresh eyes, or good old-fashioned historical sleuthing in pursuit of answers to new questions, we a constantly learning new information about the people whose histories are intertwined with Schuyler mansion. In fact, “What’s New?” is the theme for our social media this month. Be sure to follow us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram to hear out about new discoveries, get the scoop on cutting edge research, and sneak a peek at upcoming exhibit content still in development!

As always, thank you to everyone who played along with our tradition. And remember, it is important to keep an open mind when exploring the past, because the truth is sometimes weirder than the fiction, but always make sure to check your sources, especially is the information seems particularly… incredible!

---

[1] Mack, Jan, and Allan Dyssop. 2022. An Archival Analysis of Documents Relating to the Construction of Schuyler Mansion. Edited by Anne Notherpun. Punxsutawney, PA: Knott Ariel Press.

 

Holidays in Colonial New York

By Ian Mumpton

There are well over a dozen holidays celebrated between December and January worldwide, but if we were to time-travel to colonial Albany, what festivities might we partake in? Well, that depends on who you were celebrating with!

In the 17th and 18th centuries, this region was home to a multitude of national, cultural, and spiritual holiday traditions. In December, people of the Six Nations of the Haudenosaunee celebrated the End of Seasons and prepared for the Midwinter Rites in January- a time for renewing the relationships and responsibilities with their communities and with the earth as the year began anew. Likewise in January, Mahicans observed the New Year with the Bear Sacrifice ceremony and hopes for a bountiful sap season to come.

European Christian colonists, both Protestant and Catholic, observed a panoply of secular and religious traditions from the Netherlands, England, Scotland, France, Ireland, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Wales, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Austria, Croatia, and beyond, as well as new traditions born in the colonies. This included not only Christmas Day, but the Feast of St. Nicholas for the Dutch, Epiphany (also called Twelfth Night), and a variety of New Years’ celebrations.

While largely prohibited from public observance, Jewish colonists (mostly Sephardim and Ashkenazim) were part of the community since the late 1650s would have observed Chanukah within their own homes by lighting oil menorahs, making sufgonyot (oil cake donuts) and singing songs such as Al Hanissim (“On the Miracles”) and Ma'oz Tzur (“Refuge, Rock of my Salvation”, commonly known today as “Rock of Ages”). 

Enslaved and free Africans brought with them traditions from Ghana, Dahomey, the Kingdom of Kongo, and beyond. Some were from Christian communities in Africa, while some others converted in the colonies, and would have marked Christmas as a religious holiday. Others were Muslim and may have commemorated Islamic holidays in December or January when the Islamic and European calendars aligned.

With so many overlapping traditions interacting in a relatively small community, many groups were influenced by the celebrations of others, especially when it came to secular aspects of their revelry! What about the Schuylers? While there are surprisingly few references to the holidays in their documents, we can get a general idea from by looking at how others in the community celebrated, and at letters between family members. 

The Schuyler family was of Dutch descent. They were part of a large kin group of powerful Dutch families, the parents spoke Dutch at home growing up (as did at least their older children), and they attended the Dutch Reformed Church in Albany. In this Protestant Dutch tradition, Christmas itself was observed as a quiet, often somber, holy day preceding the more raucous festivities of New Years and Epiphany. Even as the Schuylers adopted more and more English cultural expressions in the 1760s forward, Christmas day may have taken on a more festive air, but English tradition still emphasized the weeks after the 25th of December as the best time for revelry.

While others on the community may have partied it up on New Years, however, family correspondence suggests that the Schuylers saved their big celebration until still later in the holiday season. Philip Schuyler wrote to Alexander Hamilton on January 2nd, 1802, to inform him that “My Coachman Toby is very Much Indisposed. My other Servants abroad on their holyday frolick [sic], that I can only send Anthony to morrow [sic] morning[.]” From this letter, it appears that the Schuylers participated in the custom of giving the people they enslaved time at New Years to gather and celebrate with friends and family. With only two servants remaining in the household, one of them ill, it is highly unlikely that the status-conscious Schuyler family intended any sort of major celebration on New Years or the days immediately after, at least by this time.

If the Schuylers did throw a big party, it was most likely for Epiphany (also known as Twelfth Night). Both Dutch and English traditions held this as time for music, food, and togetherness, as well as lively (often chaotic) celebration.  It was also a time for the wealthy to show their largesse to friend and stranger alike. What would Twelfth Night look like in the Schuylers’ home? Well, come visit us on Saturday, January 7th, between 4PM-7PM and see for yourself!

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.