Women’s Work: Labor and Delivery in a Changing World

By Maria Karasavidis

Childbirth in colonial America existed almost entirely in the domain of women, unlike today when it is not at all uncommon for men to be present at the birth of their children or working as doctors assisting women with labor. In the 18^th century, and for centuries prior, childbirth was a social event that brought women together to share both knowledge and companionship. Multiple women might be present during labor and birth. Following delivery, it was common for a mid-wife, neighbor woman, or servant to offer assistance to the new mother, allowing her a period of “lying-in” while she recovered. Catherine went through at least twelve pregnancies resulting in 15 births over the course of her lifetime. This high number of pregnancies by modern standards was not out of the ordinary during a time when the risk of infant mortality was staggeringly high, among other factors that may have influenced higher rates of pregnancy. Catherine herself lost seven of her 15 children before they reached the age of one.

One of the most comprehensive sources on late 18^th century midwifery in the northern colonies is the diary of Martha Ballard, a midwife practicing in her community of Hallowell, Maine from 1785 until her death in 1812. In her diary, Martha recorded attending to 816 births. This number was likely even higher when the number of births she attended during her training is considered.

As attested to in Martha Ballard’s diary, most laboring women were attended by female midwives, friends, and relatives. Judge Samuel Sewall of Massachusetts Bay recorded diary entries concerning his wife Hannah’s delivery of their children. Sewall mentioned the several women other than the midwife who he called to be with Hannah while in labor. For one birth, however, he wrote that Hannah, “Had not Women nor other preparations as usually, being wholly surpris’d, my wife expecting to have gone a Moneth longer.” Women being present at a birth was considered important to the process of labor, and their absence was relevant enough to remark upon.

On May 27th, 1670, Governor Francis Lovelace appointed Tryntie Melgers the first official midwife of Albany. The reason given for the need of such an appointment was less “skilful [sic] women” were apparently pretending to be midwives for profit, leaving the women of Albany with suboptimal care. Melgers, who had been in practice for 14 years at that point, had a reputation for excellent service. She aided non-wealthy women at no cost, and the wealthy for a fee.

The second official midwife of Albany, Tryntie Jans, was appointed by the governor in 1676, swearing an oath to never refuse service to anyone rich or poor. By the 1710s, several colonies, including New York, required licensing to practice midwifery, although it seems those practicing without a license went unpunished unless they acted unlawfully or immorally (such as concealing the birth of an illegitimate child or refusing care to the poor). The need to regulate those who practiced midwifery demonstrates a clear standard of natal care expected in the colonies by the 17th century. These women were seen as skilled professionals whose work was invaluable across socioeconomic lines.

There are not many specific references to childbirth in the Schuyler family in the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries, despite how much time the Schuyler women spent pregnant and giving birth. Most of what we know about childbirth in the Schuyler family must be taken from brief references in letters and inferences based on broader trends in colonial America.

Mrs. Philip John Schuyler (1762-1767).
Thomas McIlworth. The New York Historical.

    Catharine Schuyler was twenty years old when she gave birth to her first child, and forty-six when she gave birth to her last. She spent almost three decades of her life pregnant, having just given birth, or taking care of very young children. At this time, out of the myriad extant receipts detailing Philip Schuyler’s medical expenses, none have been identified that include payment of services rendered to a midwife or for any specific prenatal care for Catharine. Prior to the construction of the mansion, Catharine and Philip likely lived at Philip’s childhood home on the corner of State Street and North Pearl with his mother, Cornelia. It is possible Cornelia attended Catharine for her first six pregnancies, which took place at that home. It is also possible that the services of a midwife were employed by the Schuyler family, especially for births happening after the family moves to the mansion, but any records of this are not currently known to exist. It is also possible that an enslaved women acted as midwife to Catharine. A letter from 1776 refers to an enslaved woman named Jenny accompanying Catharine and her infant daughter Cornelia up to the family’s home in Saratoga, so it is possible that Jenny was in some way connected to the care of the Schuyler children, possibly even their births.

During the Revolutionary War, Catharine continued to have children. In December 1775, while Continental forces led by Brigadier General Richard Montgomery (under the command of Major General Philip Schuyler) attempted their assault on Quebec, Catherine gave birth to a healthy daughter, Cornelia. A few years later in 1778, Catharine gave birth to a son, Cortlandt. Cortlandt did not survive infancy, passing only five months later from an unknown cause. From Philip Schuyler’s letters shortly after the birth, Catharine too was in danger. He wrote to George Washington on May 29^th, 1778: “Mrs. Schuyler has been extremely ill-As soon as she is out of Danger I propose to go and take up my Seat in Congress…” Catharine’s health appears to have recovered but the fear for her life suggests that this eleventh pregnancy posed a significant threat to her health.

A letter from Philip Schuyler to his son concerning his daughter Caty (1781-1837), gives insight into his relationship to the childbearing process. This letter poses a semantic challenge in that it is not clear if in reference to Caty’s breast not being well Schuyler means that she has been suffering more generally from some sort of respiratory illness or that she was experiencing difficulty feeding the baby due to a problem with her breast. Within the same sentence he references the growth of the baby being dependent upon the child receiving adequate nourishment, potentially drawing a relationship between Caty’s malady and its potential to affect the baby’s growth. Even with this area of uncertainty, it is clear Philip Schuyler was knowledgeable about his daughter’s post-natal condition and is interested in sharing this information with other members of the family, Catharine not only experienced the childbearing process with the births of her own children, but the births of her daughters’ children as well. Catherine and Philip had nearly 40 grandchildren.

When Catherine Schuyler gave birth to her youngest children from the years 1775-1781, she did so at a time of tremendous change for the practice of midwifery and the nation. The end of the 18^th century saw the shift from non-interventionist midwifery practiced by women, to a more medicalized childbirth practiced by male physicians. What was once the domain of highly skilled women who made use of herbal medicines and communal knowledge was slowly being overtaken by industrialization and qualifications that, by nature of the patriarchy, excluded women.

With this change, also came a shift in how women’s bodies were considered in the process of childbirth. Historically a process shared amongst female relatives, neighbors, and midwives, the idea of men being involved with the birthing process was scandalous to many, with one doctor referring to male midwifery as “a vast system of legalized prostitution”. The response to this by the male medical community was to completely remove the concept of female sexuality from medical texts to quell fears that women were getting sexual gratification from men that were not their husbands, or that man-midwives had ulterior motives in their care.

While medical texts from preceding centuries included frank references to female sexual pleasure starting at the turn of the 18^th century the female body in medical literature became almost entirely desexualized. Whereas medical texts in prior centuries included illustrations of women’s entire bodies, including references to pleasure derived from primary sex organs, the growing trend in the 18^th century was to illustrate women’s body parts disconnected from the rest of the body, as if detached from any sense of their belonging to a person. It was now commonplace to see just illustrations of the womb; without acknowledgment of the woman it belonged to.

William Buchans’ Domestic Medicine, a popular 1769 text with the aim of providing knowledge of medicine to a lay audience, furthered the idea that women were guided by gossip and superstition and were thus ill suited to assist in childbirth. He referred to the centuries long practice of multiple women assisting a laboring mother a “ridiculous custom”. He writes, “[women] hurt the patient with their noise; and often, by their untimely and impertinent advice, do much mischief.” This prioritizing of formalized (male) medical education over the traditionally accepted expertise of female midwives is a stark departure from the first English-language midwifery guide written in 1540, The Byrth of Mankinde by Thomas Raynalde, which begins with “a prologue to the women readers,” demonstrating that women were thought more than capable of practicing a standardized form of medical care, and could be the audience for medical education. Martha Ballard’s diary also shows that midwives’ knowledge was not limited to just obstetrics but included a vast array of medical knowledge. Martha recounts being called to assist in cases of farming injuries, rashes, coughs, and other injuries not seen as serious enough to require the summoning of the local physician.

Cartoon of a Man-Midwife.
Isaac Cruikshank 1793.
The British Museum. 

At a time when medical practice was technically simple (at least regarding the apparatus used), the barrier for women’s entry into the practice of medicine was significantly lower. Women could easily grow the herbs needed for treatments for all manner of ailments, and practical knowledge of their craft could be passed down from female relatives. Only when medical practice became more industrialized do we see it entering a more masculine realm, as men were interested in regulating women out of the spaces they had occupied for centuries. Women were excluded from holding the professional title of doctor, denying their status as practitioners in most official records.

Moving into the mid-18th to 19th century, social attitudes around childbirth started to change as well. Conceptions of motherhood moved away from the physical labor done by a woman’s body and towards the ideal of “sentimental motherhood,” where being a mother was removed from the physical process a woman’s body went through and instead focused on her role as the nurturer of the ideal future citizen. This idealized motherhood was reserved for upper class white women like Catharine Schuyler and her daughters. Women of lower socioeconomic status or nonwhite women were still heavily associated with the physical labor of childbirth, with medical texts at the time claiming their “savage” bodies were more suited for labor of all kinds.

This view of non-elite, nonwhite women experiencing pain differently was a precursor to the developing field of gynecological medicine in the mid-19^th century. The rapid growth of this discipline in the United States is directly tied to the use of enslaved Black women as test subjects for new procedures, often with little regard for the safety, comfort, or privacy of these women. This belies a hypocrisy noted by Deidre Cooper Owens in her work, Medical Bondage. She writes that doctors simultaneously viewed Black women as biologically different to white women and yet still similar enough that what they learned by experimenting on Black women could then be safely applied to white women.

Black women’s role in the development of gynecological care was not restricted to the subject of medical experimentation, but extended to practicing medicine, as well. In 1794, a woman named Kate who was enslaved by George Washington on his Virginia plantation petitioned him to make her a midwife for other enslaved women, additionally requesting that she be paid for this service. Washington employed 15 midwives across the five farms of his plantation, these included both Black and white women as well as male physicians. Their positions as midwives gave them an increased amount of freedom of movement in comparison to other enslaved women. Enslaved men were more likely to have jobs that allowed them to leave their enslaver’s land and form connections with other enslaved people. Midwifery appears to have been a very singular way enslaved women to expand their networks outside of the places in which they were enslaved. In her diaries, Martha Ballard makes reference to a “negro woman doctor,” drawing attention to the existence of free women of color whose skills allowed them practice under the title of doctor in some sort of capacity, demonstrating other providers of medical care, like Martha Ballard, viewed them as adept enough to act under that title despite what was certainly a lack of any official medical training or licensing that was only available to white men in the United States in the 18^th century.

The women of the Schuyler family provide a look into the rapidly changing world of both the physical practice of labor and delivery, and the cultural mindset around motherhood. They also exemplify what child rearing looked like for wealthy women in the late 18^th to early 19^th centuries. Catharine Schuyler and her daughters would have had available to them the highest standard of medical care for the time, as well as the ability to either hire help for childcare, or rely on the labor of enslaved women to handle the care of children for them. Looking at the women of the Schuyler family only, however, would give an incomplete view of the way women of different races and social classes dealt not only with receiving medical care, but the larger social views of their bodies and how they related to the childbirth process. That is why it is vital to look into the records of non-elite women as well, in order to get a more comprehensive understanding of something that, in some way or another, effected women in all walks of life.

Stepping into History: The Complicated Process of Studying A Ledger of Shoe Purchases from Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler

 By: Sarah Lindecke

Historians and researchers work with a myriad of written and object sources when trying to learn about topics in history. What happens, though, when sources are inaccessible because accessing them requires specialized knowledge, language skills, or transcription that are beyond a researcher’s ability? In this blog post, we will explore a ledger made for Philip Schuyler’s mother, Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler, for shoes purchased and repaired between 1754 and 1762. Examining this ledger will allow us to examine the challenges associated with primary sources and how researchers work through these complications.

Schuyler family home at the corner of State St. and South Pearl in the 1880s

            Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler was born into the interconnected and wealthy Van Cortlandt family in Manhattan. Her father was Stephanus van Cortlandt (1643-1700) and her mother was Albany native Geetruijd “Gertrude” Schuyler van Cortlandt (1654-1732). Cornelia was the youngest child born to her parents but was still a wealthy heiress expecting to inherit lands in Manhattan, as well as from her family’s manor in present day Westchester County. At twenty-five, Cornelia made an advantageous match when she married Johannes Schuyler Jr. (1697-1741). The couple lived mainly in Albany where Johannes’ family and businesses were. Johannes’ prominence would grow during the early years of their marriage, and he soon became a leader in Albany’s politics and society. Their home was a prominent house on the intersection of State and South Pearl Streets. Though no period images exist showing the house when Schuylers lived there, it remained standing until the end of the 19^th century.

            Cornelia and her husband had ten children, with only a few surviving childhood. The children who are known to have survived are: Gertrude Schuyler Cochran (1724-1813); John Schuyler (1725-1746); Philip John Schuyler (1733-1804); Cortlandt Schuyler (1735-1773); and Stephen Schuyler (1737-1820). These children were raised in the multi-generational home on State Street.

            Unfortunately for the family, Johannes Schuyler Jr. passed in 1741 at forty-four years old. He’d been a merchant and civic leader during his lifetime and was serving a term as mayor in the City of Albany at the time of his death. Cornelia was given autonomy over personal property in the household following Johannes’ death. Under English rule, this was somewhat unusual, but in the Hudson River Valley, where continued adherence to Dutch traditions offered women inheritance rights and access to autonomous ownership of property and businesses, and Cornelia was well within her rights to inherit property from her husband. By comparison, women living in more traditionally English communities expected strict legal bars on their ownership of businesses or property under the legal framework of coverture. Cornelia may have experienced her share of hardships following her husband’s death, as she was left with least five children who needed education and care. The job of raising these children fell to Cornelia but also to the enslaved in her household.

           With the setting established, we can look to a document likely created for Cornelia by her son, Philip Schuyler. This ledger was kept between 1754 and 1762, with notes from Cornelia’s estate made after her passing in 1762. The text itself is in Dutch. As Dutch settlers, Cornelia and her family were deeply connected to the language. It was common throughout New Netherland and early New York for many families to continue using Dutch as a primary language, even through the 19^th century. For researchers, this document presents the additional puzzle of considering the deviations between Dutch spoken in New Netherland and modern Dutch. In the 18^th century, the Dutch written and spoken in New York was considered “low Dutch.” Due to the natural evolution of language since the 18^th century, the Dutch used by people like Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler is not entirely intelligible, even by a modern native Dutch speaker. It takes time to translate documents, and for the purposes of historical research the translation needs to be done accurately. Cursory use of various translation apps can provide some direction in the process of translation, but without the nuances available only to a native speaker, the translation is not exact.

            When looking at the text of the ledger there are a few words that are repeated on many of the lines. This can help to speed up the translation process by establishing patterns. It is important to remember spelling was not yet consistent in the 18^th century. For Cornelia’s ledger, the text also has several common shorthand notes representing various things repeated in the content. In the text of the ledger, most of these markings are representative of “ditto.” This was an abbreviation meant to express the current line had the same word as the line directly above it. In the case of this ledger, most of these “ditto” marks note that the ledger continues to discuss shoes. The mark before most of the “ditto” symbols are standing in for “pair,” as in pair of shoes or boots.

            Each line generally has the same structure with a date beginning the line, followed by text that typically appears like this sample, (approximately translated to English):

1757 

Feb 8 for 1 pair shoes for Stephen                                                                                           0n 9n 0

ditto for 1 pair for Coff                                                                                                            0n 9n 0

March 14 for 1 pair for Dick                                                                                                     0n 9n 0

ditto for lappe (cobble?) for Cesar                                                                                           0n 0n 9

July 3 for 1 pair shoes for Dick                                                                                                 0n 9n 0

ditto 18 for 1 pair ditto patched for Coff                                                                                 0n 2n 0

Sept 16 for 1 pair adjusted and new heel?                                                                              0n 4n 0

Dec 19 for 1 pair for Coff                                                                                                     0n 10n 0

            This selection of lines from 1757 there are representative of the ledger as a whole document. The line for “Feb 8” lists one pair of shoes for Cornelia’s youngest son Stephen, who was twenty years old, which cost “0n 9n 0.” As this ledger comes from the period where British money was used, the columns along the right side denote value in that currency. From right to left the values are pounds, shillings, and pence, in decreasing order of value. Stephen’s shoes therefore cost 9 shillings. The sum for a new pair of shoes had seemingly risen from earlier years, as at the beginning of the ledger, 1754, a new pair of shoes was 8 shillings and at the end of the ledger, in 1762, the cost was 10 shillings.

            Reading further down in the ledge excerpt, there are two listings for July 3^rd. The first is a new pair of shoes for Dick for 9 shillings, and the second listing is repair of shoes for Coff for 2 shillings. These two people were enslaved men in Cornelia’s household. The price for Dick’s shoes is of note since it is the same as what was paid earlier in 1757 for Cornelia’s son Stephen. Oftentimes fictional accounts or popular assumptions about the clothes of enslaved people suggest that all were clothed in inferior quality items, which was not always the case. However, repairs or better-quality items provided for enslaved people did not imply that their enslavers were kind for these provisions. Dick’s labors may have necessitated Cornelia to hire a cobbler either for new shoes or repairs frequently. The names of various people who were likely enslaved are recorded throughout the ledger for the purchase of new shoes or repairs made. Dick’s name is mentioned 13 times over the period of eight years the ledger covers.

            In comparing the prices from other ledgers at the same time period, Cornelia was paying higher prices for the shoes she purchased for her household. On June 22, 1760, George Washington’s cash accounts show a payment of 6 shillings for a pair of shoes for a man listed as ‘Peter the Smith,’ likely an enslaved man working as a blacksmith. Though this price is lower than Cornelia’s, the shoes Peter may have required for his work may have been treated shoes that would protect from the hazards of blacksmithing, like sparks. A ledger kept by Elisha Blackman in Pennsylvania between 1770 and 1804, shows various purchases and wages paid to members of his family. In 1784 he paid 7 shillings and 6 pence for one pair of shoes. Since Cornelia paid 8 shillings for shoes for an enslaved man in 1756, twenty-eight years earlier, we can see, shoe prices remain somewhat steady, but that costs were higher in Albany than in other locations. The prices Cornelia paid only increased by two shillings over the course of eight years but were still higher than those paid by Washington in Virginia and Blackman in Pennsylvania.

Of course, these numbers are not exactly comparable to each other as there were significant time, place, and possibly labor differences between ledgers. They do indicate, however, that Cornelia was paying a relatively average price (if sometimes higher) for the shoes she bought. Throughout the entire 18^th century there were constant fluctuations in all colonial currencies because each colony used both their own printed money and British currency interchangeably. Prices on ledgers were often listed in these various currencies because exchange rates were indeterminate. Additionally, due to regional fluctuations in material and labor costs during the later 18^th century, it can be difficult to determine how prices compared to each other regionally.

            Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler’s shoe ledger concludes with notes after her death in 1762. The notes mention the total price of 22 pounds, 10 shillings, and 8 pence. Cornelia paid this amount to the person who the account was kept with, possibly a cobbler named “Jillis” or “Jellis”. Further down there is a note “Cornelia Schuyler/ My Mother” which further supplies evidence that this account was kept in part by one of Cornelia’s children. The ledger was passed down through Louisa Lee and Georgina Schuyler, two of Philip Schuyler’s descendants. It is likely Philip kept his mother’s accounts and papers after her death. Other notes seem to be added by later curators or owners for the purpose of adding context to Cornelia being “mother of gen. Schuyler.”

            It is also possible to connect this ledger to Philip Schuyler’s own household. Several of the names of the enslaved people mentioned throughout the ledger show up in accounts from Philip Schuyler’s household after Cornelia’s death. In a ledger from Philip Schuyler’s household on December 16^th, 1771, also for the purchase of shoes, several of the enslaved people from Cornelia’s ledger are named as having shoes made or repaired. The names of these people are Bett, Cesar, Dick, and Coff (his name is also written as Cuff in some sources), and it is possible that these are the same people referred to in Cornelia’s ledger. Cornelia’s will does not make provisions for the lives of these enslaved people after her death, but it stands that many of the people from Cornelia’s household were inherited by her son Philip Schuyler. Since Philip Schuyler was Cornelia’s eldest living son, and he and his wife lived with Cornelia at the State and Pearl Street residence, it is likely that he took possession of the household property, which included the people enslaved there.

           Researchers often encounter challenges in their search through primary source materials. These documents are often inaccessible for various reasons: language, handwriting, document condition, etc. Cornelia van Cortlandt Schuyler’s ledger is a complex document to use as a source, not only because of the language, but because of the mundanity of the contents. So much historical research has been conducted on 18^th century topics, but because prices and currencies were in flux, it becomes difficult to grapple with actual prices and compare and contrast costs in Colonial America. Cornelia’s ledger is a useful document because, while it is a micro part of the 18^th century story, it helps better the understanding of the structure of an upper-class household in Colonial Dutch Albany.

 

Sources:

“Cash Accounts, June 1760,” Founders Online, National Archives, https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/02-06-02-0238. [Original source: The Papers of George Washington, Colonial Series, vol. 6, 4 September 1758 – 26 December 1760, ed. W. W. Abbot. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1988, pp. 429–431.]

Report of the Statistician: Farm Prices in Two Centuries; Extracts from the account of Elisha Blackman, 1770-1804. https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015035798035&seq=4

Shoe ledger of Cornelia Van Cortlandt Schuyler kept between 1754-1763, in SM collection.

Shoe ledger of Philip Schuyler from December 16^th, 1771.

Pension Petitioners: Eliza and Caty’s Final Fights

 By Jessie Serfilippi and Sarah Lindecke 

Following the American Revolutionary War, veterans and their spouses faced an uphill battle to fight for their pensions. It took several decades for the federal government to create the funds and a process to consider pension applications. It wasn’t until 1818 that the first of four acts related to pension petitions was passed. And, while it was limited to soldiers and officers who had fought directly under George Washington and not those who fought in militias, it was a start. The acts became more inclusive as time went on, with three more passed in 1820, 1832, and 1836. It wasn’t until the final act was passed that widows could fight for the pensions their husbands had rightfully earned.

Many women tried to get pensions, but the two stories highlighted here are unique. Two Schuyler daughters—Elizabeth “Eliza” Schuyler Hamilton and Catharine “Caty” Schuyler Malcolm Cochran—petitioned the federal government for pensions, but they didn’t use laws to do so. Their arguments were based off claims that Eliza’s husband, Alexander Hamilton, and Caty’s father, Major General Philip Schuyler, had not been awarded their rightful pensions within their lifetimes. Now, the sisters argued, they should be granted to their survivors. Eliza sought the pension that her husband had once turned down.  Caty sought reparations for what she perceived had been denied to her father. Both hoped to improve their situations and provide for their children upon their deaths.

Would they be successful?

Elizabeth “Eliza” Schuyler Hamilton: The Fight to Support Her Children

Henry Inman's 1825 portrait of
Eliza Schuyler Hamilton.

When Alexander Hamilton ended his service in the Continental Army in 1781, he refused to take any form of payment. Hamilton was not a wealthy man, and, while he was excellent at managing the United States’ treasury, his personal finances suffered. When he was unexpectedly killed in a duel in 1804, he left behind a shocked widow and seven children—one of whom was only two when his father died.

Eliza Schuyler Hamilton had no choice but to forge ahead with the crippling debt her husband left behind. She achieved many things with the fifty years by which she outlived Hamilton, including co-founding the first private orphanage in New York City, preserving Hamilton’s edited papers through the Library of Congress, and securing an author—one of her sons—to pen the first Hamilton biography.

Eliza, who had grown up with incredible wealth as a child, did not spend the last fifty years of her life in money or luxury. She did, however, retain a major privilege her father had enshrined in his will: she owned land throughout New York, which she leased to farmers. The money the farmers paid in rent helped sustain her and her family. But, as she grew older, it became evident she needed more money than their rents or even selling off the land could provide.

Eliza had been left with seven children to raise and educate, which proved to be a big struggle. Her decision to obtain Alexander Hamilton’s pension was fueled by the need to provide for her family. It’s important to note that Eliza’s fight for Hamilton’s pension was different from that of the average widow. She was not looking for a traditional pension, but for backpay on the money he had turned down in the 1780s, due to what he had perceived as a conflict of interest. Unfortunately, it took almost thirty years for Congress to allow widows to petition for traditional pensions.

Why had Hamilton refused a military pension? In 1782, near the close of the American Revolutionary War, Hamilton penned a letter to George Washington denouncing his right to claim money for his service:

As I have many reasons to consider my being employed hereafter in a precarious light, the bare possibility of rendering an equivalent will not justify to my scruples the receiving any future emoluments from my commission. I therefore renounce from this time all claim to the compensations attached to my military station during the war or after it.

Hamilton refused his payment so he would not be accused of acting in his own best interest while serving in any governmental position. Some of his major achievements included helping soldiers obtain timely pay during the war, and securing a retirement pension, also known as half pay, for former officers. If he’d kept his right to his pension, he would have directly benefited from these achievements, as well.   

In his 1804 “Explanation of His Financial Situation” he wrote:

Being a member of Congress, while the question of the commutation of the half pay of the army in a sum in gross was in debate, delicacy and a desire to be useful to the army, by removing the idea of my having an interest in the question, induced me to write to the Secretary of War and relinquish my claim to half pay; which, or the equivalent, I have accordingly never received.

With the knowledge that her husband hadn’t received a penny of his payment while alive, Eliza took action. She began by writing to James Madison in 1809, when he was the newly elected president. She told him Hamilton had turned down his half-pay while alive, and that, had he lived and continued working, they would be in no need of it. She described the circumstances under which she was forced to seek his pension. She wrote:

the Situation in which this irreparable Loss has placed me, and the young and numerous Family he has left, oblige me to apply for that Compensation for his Services; which my limited Income Renders necessary for the Support and Education of my dear Children.

This letter may have yielded some response, for that same year her plea was placed before Congress and was decided upon in 1810. While the committee agreed with the essence of Eliza’s claim, they wrote it was “barred by the statute of limitation,” and was therefore denied.

Eliza persisted. She went before Congress again in 1816 with the same request. While reviewing her request, Congress referenced a supposed document signed by Hamilton and addressed to the Secretary of War, in which he relinquished his rights to pay. But as the document wasn’t in their possession, they seemingly ignored it and stated:

The committee would further remark, that should a probability exist that Colonel Hamilton may have relinquished his said claim, and notwithstanding it is barred by the statute of limitations, nevertheless, as the services have been rendered to the country, by which its happiness and prosperity have been promoted, they are of opinion, that to reject the claim under the peculiar circumstances by which it is characterized, would not comport with that honorable sense of justice and magnanimous policy, which ought ever to distinguish the legislative proceedings of a virtuous  and enlightened nation.

They have therefore prepared a bill, granting the relief solicited in the premise.

With that, Eliza received the money Hamilton himself had given up three decades earlier—a lumpsum of five years’ worth of half-pay. Eliza continued her battle in the coming years, fighting both for Hamilton’s land grant, which would have been part of his payment, and for Congress to purchase his edited papers from her.

Eliza’s perseverance ensured that all but one of her children grew up, married and, in the case of her sons, entered profitable professions. At the same time, Eliza worriedly gathered funds to care for her eldest daughter, Angelica, who was ill and, based on later letters, was unable to support herself or marry.

John Church Hamilton by 
Alfred Thomas Agate; 1840.

Eliza took multiple avenues to earn enough money to leave behind for her daughter, as a letter from her son, John, reveals. Aside from aggressively seeking her husband’s pension, she used the biggest asset Hamilton left her: their house in Harlem, The Grange. In 1828, Eliza considered selling The Grange. The house was in danger of foreclosure—making evident just how dangerous Eliza’s financial situation had become. Rather than lose everything, Eliza was ready to sell her home. Her son, John, wrote that if she sold The Grange, she would live on a fixed income. This would ensure financial stability during her lifetime, and a stable future for Angelica. In 1828, John wrote Eliza would be able to “make a provision for Angelica afterwards [Eliza’s death] which must be the subject of first importance in your thoughts.” In the same letter, he told Eliza that she and Angelica could live with him in Rhinebeck, making it clear Angelica was living with and dependent on her mother. Eliza did eventually sell the Grange, but not until 1833.

While there are multiple versions of Eliza’s will, the version she wrote during the early 1840s seems to imply that she had gathered enough money to leave some behind for Angelica. Her will read:

I do hereby give and bequeath to my said daughter Elizabeth the free and sole use for her own benefit of all the interest money which she may not find necessary or proper for the maintenance and support of my daughter Angelica, arising out of the fund here in after specified as set apart for the maintenance and support of said daughter Angelica

She went on to add:

My said daughter Elizabeth having expressed to me her desire after my decease she might have the care and control of my dear but unfortunate daughter, Angelica, which is most agreeable to my own feelings and best judgement […] and I do hereby direct the interest of the principal sum of Eight thousand dollars which I have deposited with my son James and set apart for the support and maintenance of my said daughter Angelica

It was Eliza’s combined efforts in securing Hamilton’s pension, selling his papers to Congress, and selling the home he built for them that earned her the money to care for their daughter following her death.

Over the course of about four decades, Eliza fought and won multiple battles. She won Hamilton’s pension in 1816, securing five years’ worth of his half pay. In the 1830s, she sold The Grange, moving into a smaller home with her two daughters and her son-in-law. In 1840, she sold Hamilton’s papers, which were added to the Library of Congress in 1904. While the selling of The Grange and Hamilton’s papers brought Eliza more money than obtaining the pension, the latter allowed her to immediately support her family and continue her fight. Hamilton’s pension was a gift he unknowingly left Eliza, and the fruits of her efforts to win it back were one of the final gifts she could give their children upon her own death, at the age of 97, in 1854.

Catharine Schuyler Malcom Cochran: The Fight for Her Father’s Pension

On December 11^th, 1855, Catharine “Caty” van Rensselaer Schuyler Malcolm Cochran (1781-1857) had a petition presented to the Senate by committee, seeking compensation for her father’s, Major General Philip Schuyler, service during the Revolutionary War. This petition, made more than 70 years after the war had ended, was one of Caty’s final actions. She died less than 2 years later, on August 26^th, 1857.

Catharine "Caty" Schuyler Malcom Cochran
with her daughter, Catharine, by 
Gilbert Stuart circa 1810.

Caty was Philip and Catharine Schuylers’ youngest child, born on February 20^th, 1781, during the last years of the Revolutionary War. Through colonial stories she was told as a child, Caty grew up very aware of the great changes brought by the Revolutionary War, but she lacked firsthand knowledge of the actual war. By 1855, Caty was the last living Schuyler child, having lost her last two siblings, Rensselaer Schuyler (1773-1848) and Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton (1757-1854). Many of her nieces and nephews were still alive, but Caty was the last direct link to her father’s legacy. Thus, she was the only person entitled to obtain a payment from the United States for losses sustained and wages forfeited by her father, Philip Schuyler.

Much of Caty’s petition detailed her father’s story. The text describes at length the Battles of Saratoga in 1777, and the personal losses Philip Schuyler sustained when his Saratoga estate was burned by the British forces led by General Burgoyne following the battles. She asserted it was unlikely the losses at the Saratoga estate were compensated because “the books of the department make no mention of such payment or allowance.”

Later in the text, Caty placed pressure on Congress to comply with “the Committee” she’d employed for a payment by stating that “But for the embarrassment of his private affairs, […] the committee have no doubt that General Schuyler would have remained in the service till the close of the war. In that event he would, of course, have been entitled to five years’ full pay, or to his commutation.” The Committee representing Caty’s wishes perceived that her father, if not for the personal and professional embarrassments—his removal from military command in 1777 and subsequent court martial—would have remained in service during the following years of the Revolutionary War. 

To protect her access to the money, should it be rewarded, the petition carefully states that “as the petitioner is the only surviving child—as she is aged and poor, the committee are of opinion that the payment should be made to her alone, instead of being divided among the heirs generally of General Schuyler.” Caty knew that, should this repayment be optioned to all Schuyler descendants and heirs, she would have had to fight off her large extended family. Her position as the last living child of Philip Schuyler gave her implied precedence to any repayments.

Caty’s attempts to receive repayment for her father’s losses during the Revolutionary War were successful, as her petition was resolved January 16^th, 1857. She was to receive $9,960 “in full payment and discharge of all claims on account of services rendered or losses sustained by General Philip Schuyler in the war of the Revolution.” Shortly after receiving this money, Caty added a codicil to her will to account for the money acquired from Congress. She split the money between her two sons, William Schuyler Malcolm and Alexander Hamilton Malcolm. Similar to his cousin, Angelica Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton Malcom had his inheritance placed in trust because of his fragile health. Caty likely felt compelled to pursue her father’s pension due to her own poor financial position, as well as to support a son unable to independently care for himself.

Ultimately, Caty was successful in petitioning and obtaining payments regarding her father’s efforts as Major General of the Army’s Northern Department during the American Revolution but, upon closer inspection, this appears not to be the first time the youngest Schuyler child sought money form her father’s service. In the New York Public Library’s Schuyler-Malcom Family Papers, there are various letters Caty wrote to family members on seeking advice or assistance to obtain funds. In a letter written to Caty in 1851 by her nephew, Robert Schuyler, son of Philip Jeremiah Schuyler, he said:

I have your letter of the 7^th inst and regret to learn that your hope of pecuniary relief have been disappointed. _ If you will make a mortgage as you preface to R & G. S. Schuylerm on such of your property as you decern judicious, they will accept and pay your draft for Three hundred dollar at Ten days sight-   

This letter reveals Caty’s financial woes and her attempts to mortgage her property to protect her future. The result of this business with Robert Schuyler is unknown, likely because after he committed large-scale stock fraud in 1854, he fled legal consequences and died in France in 1855.

It might appear deliberate that Caty waited until December of 1855 to push her petition before Congress, as her sister Eliza had died November 9^th, 1854. If Caty expressed her interest in receiving repayment to her siblings, they may have petitioned for their own cut.

The final of the four pension acts, passed in 1836, allowed for petitions to Congress by survivors and widows of the Revolutionary War. It is interesting to note that none of her siblings, even those living after 1836, made any known efforts to petition for their father’s owed pension. Eliza had focused solely on her husband’s pension, and Rensselaer Schuyler, the only other living sibling after the act’s passage, hadn’t submitted any petitions himself. Thus Caty, more than 70 years after the American Revolution and over 50 years after her fathers’ death, was able to receive the money she believed he was owed in life.

Caty’s case was rather unique, because unlike most women, she as petitioning for survivor’s benefits as a daughter rather than a wife. In Caty’s privileged position, however, she had more resources available to her to successfully petition Congress, unlike many other survivors. Also, despite her father’s early departure from the war, the name Schuyler had a lasting positive legacy. Undoubtedly, the Schuyler name held weight with Congress for her petition. She was able to benefit from that legacy to gain her father’s pension and reparations to his property to  provide for her children.

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

 by Heather Damia 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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