Margaret's Murky Marriage: Examining Historical Myth

By: Sarah Lindecke

Margaret Schuyler, Unknown Artist

Popular lore, as told by writers like Mary Gay Humphreys in her book Catherine Schuyler, asserts that Margaret “Peggy” Schuyler (1758-1801), [1] the third child of Philip and Catharine Schuyler, eloped. While four children in the family certainly did elope, Peggy was not one of them. This is not to presume that Peggy’s marriage was banal or unimportant. Her groom, Stephen van Rensselaer III (1764-1839), was the 19-year-old patroon of Rensselaerwyck. There are no known primary sources that establish the circumstances of their marriage, a confounding problem for historical researchers. Three questions spring to mind when considering how one of the wealthiest men of the era’s marriage went unrecorded:  What is the origin of the elopement story? Who was her bridegroom? What kind of wedding did she have?

Before Peggy likely even considered marriage, her brother-in-law, Alexander Hamilton, wrote to her discussing the merits and conditions in which marriage should be undertaken. Shortly after he’d married her sister, Eliza. He wrote:

“But I pray you do not let her advice have so much influence as to make you matrimony-mad. ’Tis a very good thing when their stars unite two people who are fit for each other, who have souls capable of relishing the sweets of friendship, and sensibilities. The conclusion of the sentence I trust to your fancy. But its a dog of life when two dissonant tempers meet, and ’tis ten to one but this is the case. When therefore I join her in advising you to marry, I add be cautious in the choice. Get a man of sense, not ugly enough to be pointed at—with some good-nature—a few grains of feeling—a little taste—a little imagination—and above all a good deal of decision to keep you in order; for that I foresee will be no easy task. If you can find one with all these qualities, willing to marry you, marry him as soon as you please.” -Alexander Hamilton to Peggy Schuyler, January 21^st, 1781, Founders Online

              Hamilton requested his sister-in-law consider her marriage and not make any haste. He expressed his happiness with his choice of wife and hoped that Peggy would also be able to find a suitable companion with whom she shared a similar temperament and sensibilities. Peggy seemingly took her brother-in-law’s advice, because she waited several years more before she married. Her husband, Stephen van Rensselaer III (1764-1839), had inherited the lucrative Patroonship the Van Rensselaer family had established in the 1630s. Stephen was six years younger than Peggy and a third cousin. Their match, though no sources currently known romantically link Margaret and Stephen prior to their marriage, had the potential to reinvigorate family ties between Van Rensselaer’s and Schuyler’s. In early aristocratic New York, these ties were important to keep wealth and land tightly controlled and later protect from the dangers of “new money” merchants and politicians that began to take political and social power from the 18^th century elite landholders.

The Van Rensselaer Patroonship was the most successful of the hereditary land patents created by the Dutch West India Company and later granted by the English Crown. While vastly prosperous throughout the 17^th century, by the last quarter of the 18^th century the viability of this land system was on the decline as wealth became more linked to banking and merchant business. Politically and economically advantageous marriages were important to protecting this system’s prominence. Near the end of its lifetime in 1846, the Van Rensselaer Patroonship still held approximately 1,000,000 acres of lands with 3,000+ tenants in both Albany and Rensselaer counties.^[1] By modern standards, Stephen van Rensselaer III is considered one of the top ten wealthiest Americans to have ever lived.^[2] Stephen van Rensselaer III was the second-to-last Patroon of Rensselaerswyck and he had already partially inherited his birthright prior to his marriage father’s will, Stephen could not take full control of the van Rensselaer Patroonship until he reached the age of 21. At their marriage in 1783, Stephen was 19 years old, compared to Peggy’s 24 years. Freshly graduated from Harvard, it would be two years before he reached his majority.^[3] Though he may have shared in the work of the Patroonship he remained under the guardianship of his uncle, Abraham Ten Broeck, and was mentored by Philip Livingston. Furthermore, in the 18^th century, it was typical for a man to wait until his mid-twenties when he had a career before marrying.

              A friend of Stephen’s—likely from Harvard—Harrison Gray Otis (1765-1848) wrote:

“Stephen’s precipitate marriage has been to me a source of surprise and indeed of regret. He certainly is too young to enter into a connection of this kind; the period of his life is an important crisis; it is the time to acquire Fame, or at least to prepare for its acquisition. It is the time to engage in a busy life, to arouse the Facultys into action, to awake from a lethargic Inattention, which is generally the consequence of youthful pleasures, and make a figure upon the active Theatre. Instead of this our friend has indulged the momentary impulse of youthful Passions, and has yielded to the dictates of Remorseful Fancy.”

   

A map of the Manor Renselaerwick:
surveyed and laid down by a scale of 100 chains to an inch
by Jno. R. Bleeker, surveyor, 1767.
New York Public Library.

           This quote is repeated in many secondary sources, but it is unclear where the primary source is located, or if the quoted section is taken out of context. Many historians have taken Otis’ thoughts as fact and presented their presumptions about the subtext of this quote as fact. The actions of these writers are likely the cause of the elopement rumor. Otis certainly questioned Stephen’s choice to marry but did not recount other circumstances of the wedding. His concern was that Stephen had made a choice to indulge in passion when they were meant to “engage in a busy life”—namely politics or business—before marrying. Otis thought Stephen’s choice to marry broke with the expectations for a man of the 18^th century. Stephen’s background removed many 18^th century prerequisites for marriage because upon reaching age 21, he would inherit [2] one of the largest fortunes in United States history. Stephen did not need to establish himself in a career before marrying because he already had extraordinary wealth, status, and name. A possible objection to the match could have been Stephen’s age but there remains little primary source evidence that the marriage blindsided or frustrated the Schuylers.

              Later writers, like the distant relative Maunsell van Rensselaer (1819-1900) and Catharine van Rensselaer Schuyler biographer, Mary Gay Humphreys (1843-1915) spun the story even further. In his book, Maunsell van Rensselaer writes about Killian van Rensselaer, a relation working for Philip Schuyler at the time of the marriage. He suggested that Killian van Rensselaer unwittingly became involved in the elopement plot and assisted the couple. Without citation, Maunsell van Rensselaer suggested: “[Stephen] was in love with Margaret Schuyler, daughter of the General, and although only nineteen was anxious to be married. To this the father objected, and the young couple settled the matter by getting married without delay.”^[4] He then repeats Harrison Gray Otis’s remark about the marriage. Mary Gay Humphreys repeats the story of Killian van Rensselaer’s involvement as well as Harrison Gray Otis’s sentiments in her own writing. Neither author cites primary source documents to certify their stories.

              More recent books include further unsubstantiated claims. William Kennedy, in his 1983 book, O, Albany! wrote “Angelica and Margarita, eloped out windows with their suitors.”^[5] More accurately, their younger sister, Cornelia, was reported to have done this upon her elopement in 1797, as expressed in a letter written by her husband shortly after the event. On the following page, Kennedy states, “Hamilton had dalliances with both Angelica and Margarita during his marriage…” Both of these references are without citation or validation, and it seems that Kennedy’s story was picked up by subsequent authors. In his A Place in History: Albany in the Age of Revolution, 1775-1825 (2010), Warren Roberts wrote: “Margarita climbed out her second-floor room in her father’s mansion to elope with her 19-year-old husband.” This also lacks citation.

              What do we know, then, about this marriage? Peggy and Stephen were married on June 6^th, 1783. The New York Gazetteer or, The Northern Intelligencer, a weekly Albany newspaper, announced in their June 9^th edition that the pair had married.^[6] The Albany Dutch Reformed Church, of which Stephen’s step-father was domine, or reverend, did not record their marriage, but did report the baptisms of two of their children: Catharine (August 9^th, 1784) and Stephen IV (March 29^th, 1789).

Philip Schuyler’s

Philip Schuyler by John Trumbull. 1
792. Yale University Art Gallery

[3] [4] letters to Stephen in the following months are short but express joy and family blessings. On July 7^th, 1783, Schuyler expresses concerns about Stephen’s health. He wrote “I hope you have not had a return of [illegible] fever and that you are gaining strength.” and subsequently asked that he “make my love to Betsy Peggy and the children.”^[7] Schuyler’s next letter, several days later on July 13^th, 1783, informed Stephen on political matters in Philadelphia with the profession that he was “so incessantly engaged that I fear I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you until about the 23rd.”^[8] On July 17^th, 1783, Schuyler requested that Stephen not neglect an opportunity to dine together.[9] If the Schuylers harbored hurt feelings about their daughter’s untimely marriage, it is unlikely that just a month later the letters between a disappointed father to his new son-in-law would be so affable.

In the case of elopements of his other children, such affability is not present in Philip Schuyler’s letters. After eldest daughter Angelica’s elopement, Schuyler expressed his displeasure with the circumstances to friend William Duer. He complained, “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.”[10] This letter shows that prior to Angelica’s elopement, Schuyler made clear his displeasure with the coupling, and his ire remained for some time after their marriage. Later, the elopement of his daughter Cornelia was similarly followed by Schuyler’s clear expression of frustration. A month after Cornelia’s elopement in 1797, he wrote: “I have…written a letter to my unhappy Cornelia…I hope it will restore peace to her mind, if she can possibly enjoy it, with a man of such an untoward disposition as her husband. I apprehend very much that he will render her miserable…”[11] Schuyler didn’t want Cornelia to feel as though her family harbored any grief towards her, in respect to her elopement, and so Philip Schuyler wrote specifically to her to “restore her peace of mind.” However, he asserts, just a line later that feelings about his daughter’s new husband, George Washington Morton, hadn’t and were not likely to improve.

Schuyler had concerns about Angelica and Cornelia’s husbands stemming from the reputations of these men. John Barker Church, alias John Carter, and George Washington Morton came from outside of Albany’s insular set of high society and were not upstanding men in several respects. Stephen, by comparison, was family and incredibly wealthy. Any negative feelings surrounding Stephen and Peggy’s marriage do not survive in known correspondence, so it is impossible to determine if there were blatant or concealed objections to their marriage. From extant letters dated July 7^th and 13^th of 1783, there are no discernable negative feelings directed towards the newlyweds.

Reconstructed Van Rensselaer Hall
in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City. 

Though the details of the wedding remain unknown, it is possible that Peggy and Stephen were married in a family home.  Peggy’s older sister, Eliza married Alexnader Hamilton in the Blue Parlor in December 1780. As the future Patroon, Stephen and his bride would have also had access to the lavish Van Rensselaer Manor [6] north of Albany. However, the location of their wedding is unknown. It is possible that Eilardus Westerlo, Stephen’s stepfather and the domine of the Dutch Reformed Church, presided over their wedding.

Though not a lot is known about the actual circumstances of Peggy and Stephen’s wedding, it is unlikely their story was a dramatic elopement like those of some of Margaret’s other siblings. Her marriage may have been unexpected, but it was a union that recommitted family connections between those in the highest echelons of Albany society.

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[1] https://archive.org/details/vanrensselaerfam21spoo/page/132/mode/1up (132-133)

[2] https://ceoworld.biz/2023/09/22/study-wealthiest-americans-of-all-time/

[3] https://exhibitions.nysm.nysed.gov/albany/bios/vr/svr3.html

[4]https://books.google.com/books?id=MZ1YAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA54&lpg=PA54&dq=Stephen%27s+precipitate+marriage+has+been+to+me+a+source+of+surprise+and+indeed+of+regret.&source=bl&ots=UDsLJESJBA&sig=H02Yj4JooyMBJXpTmUnpB5Nt0tQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjkorLoipjRAhXJq1QKHWEhASoQ6AEIHzAB#v=onepage&q&f=false page 54

[5] O! Albany by William Kennedy pg 84

[6] To read the newspaper—the NYSL has microfilms of editions of the newspaper OCLC 09672915

[7] July 7^th, 1783, Philip Schuyler to Stephen van Rensselaer III—likely NYPL

[8] July 13^th, 1783, Philip Schuyler to Stephen van Rensselaer III—possibly in the Campus Marius Museum’s Slack Collection

[9] July 17^th, 1783, Philip Schuyler to Stephen van Rensselaer III, Albany Institute of History and Art, Van Rensselaer Family Papers.

[10] Philip Schuyler to William Duer, July 3-5. 1777, New York Public Library, Philip Schuyler Papers.

[11] Philip Schuyler to Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton, November 26^th, 1797, Library of Congress, Alexander Hamilton Papers.

"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!

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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!

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[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.

 

A Hundred Leagues I’d Walk to My Love: Philip Schuyler’s Musical Courtship of Catharine van Rensselaer

***The article that follows was written as Schuyler Mansion's annual April Fools post. Unfortunately, Philip Schuyler did not write the music that would eventually become "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)". Thank you to everyone who played along!***

“But I would walk 500 miles And I would walk 500 more just to be the man who walked a 1000 miles to fall down at your door!” With the rhythmic guitar, heartfelt lyrics, and captivating Scottish accents, who can resist the Proclaimers 1988 hit “I’m Gonna Be”, better known in the US as “500 Miles”? But did you know that the Reid brothers found their inspiration for the song in a piece written by an earlier composer? As it turns out, this composer was none other than our very own Philip Schuyler!

Cover art of the 1988 album Sunshine on Leith,
which included the hit "I'm Gonna Be".

It can be jarring to think of the stern, aristocratic Philip Schuyler as a young musical heartthrob, but letters from Philip’s late teenage years indicate that he briefly took up music, not as a career, but as a way to win the love of the beautiful and elegant Miss Catharine van Rensselaer, or, as Philip referred to her in a letter to his friend Abraham Ten Broeck, “Sweet Kitty VR”. In fact, it was while pining for “Sweet Kitty” during a trip to Quebec that Philip composed a musical arrangement he titled “A Hundred Leagues I’ll Walk for My Love”.

The first evidence of this song comes from a letter written by Schuyler to Abraham Ten Broeck. While the date on the letter is illegible, it must have been written on a trip to Quebec Philip took prior to the outbreak of the French and Indian, or Seven Years, war, likely in 1753. There to discuss a potential business arrangement with Scottish merchant Angus McGonagle (himself no stranger to musical performance), the young man found his mind focused more on romance than finance.

My Dear Brahm; 

Matters here progress but so slowly that I fear it will be two weeks more be fore [sic] I return to Albany. I am whistful [sic] for your companionship and all our happy company there. I trust you will not think that I undervalue our friendship tho if I tell you that my mind and heart turn moment after moment to a certain young lady, the identity of whom I am certain you will guess at. You must not laugh at me Brahm to hear that I have put those thoughts of her into music, thoughts that I might demonstrate the fondness of my heart for hers by walking, without pause, the full hundred leagues and more between us, resting only when I fall down at her door. But music on paper cannot compair [sic] to music on the ear, and so I hope that you will accompany me on your violoncello, along with our two friends so we make a quartet. I esteem my self a poor composer, but I hope that this will make my affections for her evident in ways mere words cannot…

 Philip included the sheet music with his letter; an arrangement for violins, viola, and cello, that has a very familiar sound to it. We do not know if he, Abraham, and their unnamed friends ever ended up performing for Catharine, but not long after this letter was sent, Philip and Catharine were married, and had their first child, Angelica, just five months later. The sparks of romance were definitely bright for these two!

Philip and Catharine Schuyler in later life

According to music historian Dr. Emma Jennery, Craig and Charlie Reid ran across Philip's letter and music in late 1987 in a book about Scottish musicians (in relation to Angus McGonagle's career). As explained by Dr. Jennery in an unrecorded broadcast for BBC Scotland, “Craig and Charlie so often tap into the confluence of place and emotion, drawing on timeless inspiration and interpreting it through their iconic sound. They knew they had something there, with Philip Schuyler’s evocative phrasing about wanting to walk that hundred leagues from Quebec to Albany (the one on New York that is), only to fall down at her [Catharine’s] door. They gave his composition the lyrics it deserved and presented it for a modern audience.” Click here to listen to the Wedding String Quartet perform their rendition of “A Hundred Leagues I’d Walk to My Love”, known to the world today as “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”

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Happy April Fools! As you might have guessed, Philip Schuyler is not the composer behind the Proclaimer's hit, but at least you have it playing through your head again? As is tradition for us, however, we put a lot of real historical content and references into the post. The inspiration for the whole thing came from a letter that Philip Schuyler wrote to his daughter Elizabeth in 1799, in which he made reference to youthful dancing and strolls around Albany.

Abraham Ten Broeck and Philip Schuyler really were childhood friends who maintained a closeness throughout their adult lives. Philip was even initially buried in the Ten Broeck family vault in 1804. The "possible date" for the letter was chosen based on when young Ten Broeck would have returned from a year-long trip to Europe in 1752, and the outbreak of the French and Indian War, or Seven Years War, in 1754. Philip did write to Ten Broeck often, and the reference to "Sweet Kitty VR" comes directly from one of their real-life letters.

So far, there is no known evidence for Philip Schuyler possessing much musical talent or ability, but he certainly encouraged it in his children, especially as part of his daughters' educations. Eliza and Caty are both noted for their skill on the pianoforte, some of their brothers played the flute, and Angelica is believed to have played the parlor guitar. Quartet arrangements were popular in the 1750's, in large part due to the work of composer Joseph Haydn (himself only a year older than Philip). While Philip did not (as far as we know) compose or play music to woo Catharine, the dancing reference in his letter to Elizabeth has been read as an allusion to his early courtship of Catharine. In either case, their relationship does seem to have been as passionate as described here- Philip included frequent attestations of affection in correspondence, and Angelica's birthdate fell well shy of the nine-month-mark from her parents' wedding date.

While Philip Schuyler never did business with Angus McGonagle, the argyle gargoyle who gargles Gershwin gorgeously in season 4 of the Muppet Show, he did work from a young age to develop a broad network of mercantile contacts, both locally and farther afield. This would include trips to Canada throughout his life, as well as New York City, and even a trans-Atlantic voyage to England and Ireland less than a decade after this supposed letter was sent.

Lastly, Dr. Emma Jennery is, in fact, imaginary, but her description of the Proclaimers' music is accurate- many of their songs use emotionally evocative language tied to a specific place or community to tell a story of longing for home and loved ones far away. Year round, staff at Schuyler Mansion are committed to telling all of the many stories that make up our site, both the more familiar ones of the Schuyler family, and those that have received less attention in the past. This commitment to sharing a fuller narrative is apparently something that we share with the Proclaimers as well!

So thanks for reading, and remember...

“Devoid of any facet of interest or spectacle”: Rensselaer Schuyler’s Unrealized Masquerade Emporium

***The article that follows was written as Schuyler Mansion's annual April Fools post. Unfortunately, Rensselaer Schuyler never planned to open a store called "Fancy Masks" (that we know of!). Thank you to everyone who played along!***

In August of 1792, Angelica Schuyler Church sent her brother Rensselaer a letter from London, where she was living at the time with her husband and children. She included the usual news of friends and family abroad, updates on conflict with France, and inquiries as to the health of her loved ones in America. However, despite being separated by an entire ocean and an age-gap of 17 years, the primary content of the letter indicates a deep familiarity on Angelica’s part with young Rensselaer’s most pressing concerns at that time- business and romance:

Though I am certain that Papa has been applying you heed the Advise [sic] of our brother Hamilton in matters of Finance, my heart beats maloncholy [sic] that he has not told you who it is who Advises him[.] For if he had, she expects she should have had a Letter from you some time ago, entreating her (that is, myself), to relate unto you all that she (that is, I) have to tell of the State of Finance in London, a matter on which I am very much Informed and Most Happy to share with my dear Brother…

As to that Other Matter, touching the Heart and all the Exhortions [sic] of Venus, you should not think it Amiss to say Amas*, nor to apply to your loving sister for Advise [sic] on this matter either. To this I will say only that you must take to a Ball the object of your Affections, the effection [sic] of which will be made most agreeable should you escort her to a Masquerade. It is a gathering of the most fashionable and amusing sort[;] at it all the couples wear Mascks [sic] and all of the most fantastical sort, with feathers and silks and all manner of Bazaar [sic] creatures, tigresses and Devils and other such phantasms. Such a gathering was had at the Prince [of Wales]’s apartments Several nights past, and tho [sic] I spent the whole night in good company there, several couples spent less time with the ensemble...

A Masquerade of the type described by Angelica Schuyler

Whether or not Rensselaer took his big-sister’s advice on romance to heart, he apparently saw in her letter a chance for a business venture.  While we do not have Rensselaer’s letter to his father, a letter written by Philip Schuyler to his son several weeks after Rensselaer received Angelica’s message sheds light on Rensselaer’s latest inspiration.

My Dear Son, 

Pleased tho [sic] I am to hear that you intend to take an interest in entering the World of Business at last[,] your letter of the 3^rd instnt [sic] has given me cause to offer Trepeditious [sic] counsel. I fear you may have misread your dear sister Angelica’s intent in her advisement, for while she tells me she offered you advice on Both business and matrimony, I fear you have Conflated the Two into One. Your proposed course, that of establishing a Store for the selling of Maskerade fashions and other such frivolities, seems to me ill-advised and a poor use of the education in Maths, science, History, and all other Useful Arts which I have ever endevored [sic] to provide you with and Furthermore can only result in your unhappiness and mine, and the squandering of the fortune you request of me to secure the enterprise. Further, the illustrations of your Intentions, though artistically adept in their accuracy, are poor things, devoid of any facet of interest or spectacle capable of capturing the interest of those who attend such parties. Lastly, the name of the establishment, Fancy Masks, as you propose it, is a ridiculous thing, and beneath you in all ways I advise instead you apply yourself to Farming or Commerce, both of which in perfect harmony suffice to make a man wealthy and respected.

I remain, ever and adieu,

Yr Fthr

Ph: Schuyler

From this letter, it appears that Rensselaer’s plan was to open a store (whether in New York or Albany is not specified), for selling masks and fancy clothing for Masquerade Balls, as described by his sister, Angelica. For years, the only reference to Rensselaer’s designs for his masks was Philip’s description in this letter. However, a recently discovered ledger book from within the Schuyler family contains a loose leaf of paper depicting what appears to be one of Rensselaer’s illustrations of the sorts of masks he intended to sell in his establishment. If this is the case, then it seems that his father’s description is unfortunately accurate.

Rensselaer never got to open Fancy Masks. Instead he set out on a life plagued by debt for many years before finally settling in to the life his father intended for him as a land-lord and developer. Still, one cannot help but wonder what his life would have been like had his creative impulses been better nurtured. Alas, we will never know.


* Latin for, "You love..."- wordplay off of "Amiss".




****************************************************************************

Happy April Fools! So as many have guessed, this article was, as they say, complete hogwash. However, while the overall premise was written as a prank, there is plenty of real historical inspiration. Masquerades were an extremely popular form of high-society entertainment, with an industry of purveyors of masquerade costumes and masks on hand to outfit the spectacular events. The mask depicted, however, was not a masquerade disguise, but actually a depiction of an 18th century fencing mask from Diderot's Encyclopédie.

The family dynamics in the (fabricated) letters are also rooted in historical reality. Angelica's reference to advising Alexander Hamilton on financial matters was inspired by correspondence with her brother-in-law in which she recommended and sent financial treatises to him from Europe. Similarly, Philip Schuyler's tone of disproval in the letter to Rensselaer matches his actual tone in discussing his youngest son's financial difficulties and education recalcitrance. We talk about these topics and more elsewhere on the blog and during tours and programming at Schuyler Mansion, so keep your eyes open for upcoming events and new articles!

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

by Ian Mumpton

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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