Friday, April 17, 2020

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

Alexander Hamilton painted
by James Sharples; 1796.
By Jessie Serfilippi

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

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

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

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

Elizabeth Schuyler Hamilton
painted by James Sharples; 1796.
Following the good news of her father’s health, Hamilton broke a bit of bad news to Eliza. While her sister Peggy had beef ready to go down the Hudson to her, Hamilton stated “Eggs are more scarce & nearly as dear as at New York. I shall see what can be done as to butter.” 

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

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

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


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

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

“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 3rd 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!

Saturday, March 28, 2020

"I shall most cheerfully pay:" The Education of Caty Schuyler

By Jessie Serfilippi

Catharine "Caty" Schuyler at 15
(seated at pianoforte)
By November of 1793, seventeen-year-old Cornelia and twelve-year-old Catharine “Caty” Schuyler had completed six months of French lessons at Albany. Their father, Philip Schuyler, paid tutor Charles Rogers “three Dollars per Month Each.” Unlike their older sisters, who studied largely in Manhattan in the early 1770s, Cornelia and Caty seem to have completed a bit more of their higher education in Albany. This was likely a sign of better quality tutors in Albany.


But there was no delaying the inevitable. By 1795, Caty was enrolled in S. & N. Lilly’s, likely an academy in Manhattan. A surviving receipt of all the expenses her father paid the school for her education provides a window into the world of an upper class girl’s education in the 1790s United States.


Perhaps unlike other students, Caty didn’t live at the academy, as her father only paid “Day Board.” It’s likely that Caty lived with family and friends while in Manhattan. By 1795, her sister Eliza Schuyler Hamilton and her family had relocated to Manhattan from Philadelphia. By 1799, it’s evident that Caty lived with the Hamiltons, though her whereabouts before that are murky. Based on past evidence of the oldest three Schuyler girls living with family while receiving their education in New York City, it’s likely Caty stayed with her older sister.

Dwight's Geography 
Photo Credit: WorthPoint 
It seems as though Caty was immersed in nearly every subject possible. In the first quarter of her schooling in 1795, she took music and drawing lessons. She studied A Short But Comprehensive System of the Geography of the World: By way of question and answer, principally designed for children and common schools by Nathaniel Dwight. This was a newly published common book used to introduce children to the subject of geography, and was one of the first books to be uniquely American in style rather than a copy of British studies. It was the perfect educational tool for a young girl coming of age during the Federalist era, when the United States was distancing itself from British standards and creating its own.

Detail of tambour needlework
from Portrait of Catherine Lane Barker
by Gilbert Stuart; 1792.
Caty also heavily studied embroidery and “fancy needlework.” Three “Tambour Needles” appeared early in the list of expenses for her schooling. Tambour needles allowed the embroiderer to learn and work faster as only one stitch needed to be mastered. From other expenses, it seems Caty’s instructor drew scenes on fabric, creating a pattern for her to follow as she embroidered. These included “drawing a Landscape on Sattin” and “a Flower piece on Sattin.”

Caty studied subjects familiar to students today: writing and arithmetic. During her second quarter of schooling, her parents purchased her a cyphering book, or a book in which she copied her instructor’s multiplication problems, geometry questions, and even trigonometry lessons depending on the level to which she advanced. While this notebook turned textbook by the student was meant to impart mathematics knowledge, the problems were often framed as mercantile, or used to teach surveying, bartering, and interest. It’s impossible to know what level of mathematics Caty achieved or if she learned it with a slant toward something such as interest or bartering, but her father’s many business engagements and his seemingly liberal outlook on his daughters’ educations leaves open the possibility.

Caty’s education in the above subjects continued into 1797. In 1796, she was joined by her eight-year-old nephew, the son of her late brother Johnny, Philip Schuyler Jr. Her sister Cornelia joined her that same year for dancing lessons. Caty completed her own dance lessons in 1797. This could have been a sign that she was ready to enter society. Dancing was an important skill for both girls and boys of high society to possess, as they were expected to know the latest styles of dance for balls––opportunities for meeting a future spouse.

While receipts for Caty’s formal education ended in 1797, in 1799, eighteen-year-old Caty was still studying, though likely on her own. A letter from her father written on November 24, 1799, reveals the one of the only people aside from Caty and her parents with a hand in her education was her brother-in-law, Alexander Hamilton. Schuyler wrote to her that “It gratifies me that you will solicit your brother Hamilton to direct you in your studies, his mind is so correct that he will point out to you the best Authors.”

These authors may have been connected to the study of geography and history, for earlier in the letter Schuyler wrote “Any expenses of tuition or others I shall most cheerfully pay. The science of geography is so essential in order to read history with the best advantage that I am greatly pleased at your intention to study It -– and knowing your attention, I am persuaded you will make great progress in It.”

While not said in Caty’s own words, her father’s response to her now missing letter suggests geography and history were subjects she took an interest in on her own. His praise of her intellect speaks to her intelligence and dedication to her studies… At least to the subjects she was fascinated by. In the same letter, Schuyler reminded her “drawing is also a valuable accomplishment” and encouraged her to continue that line of study; perhaps suggesting it was a subject she did not take much interest in.

Caty’s education marked her as the child of a wealthy family. From music and embroidery, to arithmetic and geography, Philip and Catharine Schuyler provided Caty with a sound education and encouraged her academic interests. At times, the Schuylers’ choice of subjects for Caty held to the conventions of the time period, but at other times their choices ignored popular suggestions for a young lady’s education.

Education philosopher Benjamin Rush’s Thoughts upon female education, published in 1787, could have provided the Schuylers with a guide for Caty’s education. Rush touted writing and reading the English language and arithmetic as essential for a young lady to learn so she could impart that knowledge to her own children, and so she could bookkeep and run a household should her husband die. He believed that the study of geography and history made a woman an “agreeable companion for a sensible man” and qualified her for a “general intercourse” with the wider world. While her parents educated Caty in subjects Rush emphasized as essential, they also deviated from Rush’s philosophy.

Portrait of Caty Schuyler above pianoforte in Best Parlor
of Schuyler Mansion; 2020.

Rush believed American women had no use for the French language; Frenchmen should learn English if they wished to converse with American ladies, and the best of French literature was translated into English. Rush insisted that women should not learn to play any instruments, as mastering them required too much time better devoted to other subjects and the instruments took up too much space in the house. He even stated women shouldn’t learn drawing, as he believed there was no use for it in her future as a wife and mother.

Despite Rush’s philosophies, Caty learned French, the pianoforte, and drawing––subjects seen as unnecessary for future Republican Mothers, but essential for the upper class, accomplished woman her parents wanted her to be. Her parents also knew the better Caty’s education, the better her choices of a husband would be, too. With each subject she studied, Caty was prepared to take part in the changing nation around her.

To see tambour needlework embroidery in action, click here.

To see a video about dancing a minuet, click here.

The receipts referenced are part of the NYPL’s Philip Schuyler Papers.

Sunday, September 8, 2019

"You must not Insist upon depriving us of them...": Philip and Catharine Schuyler as Protective Grandparents


by Ian Mumpton and Jessie Serfilippi
My Dear Sir, 
…It is very natural that you and my Dear Eliza Should be anxious to have your children with you, but in this instance I apprehend your prudence has given way to your feelings[.] The fatal disorder [i.e. Yellow Fever] which has so severely been experienced at Philadelphia, may have abated, or even for the present apparently subsided, but many months must elapsed before it can be determined that the dreadful Scene will not be renewed… I have concluded that It would be improper to Acceed to your wish, If however after some farther experience you shall Judge that all danger is past, I will either carry down the little one and his nurse, or send them in charge of my son Rensselaer, but the others we all agree must remain until Spring…
The children are all in perfect health, so happy and docile and afford us so much pleasure and real satisfaction that we should part with them with infinite reluctance, you must not therefore Insist upon depriving us of them. They all Join us in love, to you & Eliza.
 
I am my Dear Sir   Most affectionately Yours 
Ph: Schuyler 17 November 1793


John Church Hamilton was less than two years old when his
grandfather wrote the above letter to his parents, arguing that
it was too dangerous to send the children back to Philadelphia
after the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1793.
Today is Grandparents day in the US. Had they celebrated the day in the 18th century, Philip and Catharine Schuyler would have been inundated with cards. Their eight children that Philip and Catharine saw live to adulthood brought a total of thirty-nine grandchildren into their lives! Philip and Catharine proved to be doting grandparents, and took an active interest in their grandchildren’s  happiness, educations, and safety.

The letter above was written on the 17th of November, 1793. The previous summer’s outbreak of Yellow Fever had been particularly deadly, especially in the city of Philadelphia. In order to protect their children from the illness, Alexander and Elizabeth Schuyler had sent their six children to their grandparents’ home in Albany. Despite the return of cooler weather that Autumn and the abatement of the epidemic, Philip and Catharine still feared for their grandchildren’s safety… refusing to send them to Philadelphia until the following Spring.

Given the wide age-range amongst their own children (the oldest and youngest of whom shared a birthday, twenty-five years apart), Catharine was raising her last child at the same time that her oldest daughters were raising their first children. Her daughter Elizabeth gave birth to her first child at the Schuylers’ home in Albany not long after her youngest sister was born.

Because of this age gap, Philip and Catharine did not meet all of the grandchildren. Of the thirty-nine grand-kids, only twenty-seven had been born at the time of Catharine and Philip’s deaths (in 1803 and 1804 respectively). Sadly, of these twenty-seven, the Schuyler family would bury seven grandchildren, including six who died in infancy or childhood, and one, their grandson Philip Hamilton, who was killed in a duel at the age of nineteen. In total, thirty of the thirty-nine grandchildren survived to adulthood.

While it is heartbreaking to think that the family had to grieve the losses of nearly a quarter of that generation, these statistics were a marked improvement over those of the generation before- Catharine lost seven out of fifteen of her children before their first birthdays.  It is small wonder that the Schuylers’ were unwilling to send their grandchildren back to Philadelphia without the complete certainty that the epidemic which had claimed the lives of a full ten percent of the population of the city was truly over!

Monday, April 1, 2019

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 17th and 18th 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 17th century and their descendants, the night of April 1st 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 18th 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 31st, 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 1st continued well into the 18th 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 19th 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!

Friday, February 15, 2019

Not Two Miles Apart: Brit, Will, and Love in the Face of Slavery


By Jessie Serfilippi and Ian Mumpton

The Schuyler family history is full of intriguing romances—from Philip and Catharine’s rushed marriage (with Angelica’s birth coming just five months later) to four of their eight children eloping, there has always been a lot to talk about when it comes to love. There is one couple, however, whose story we know just the most basic of facts about- but what a story it is, nonetheless. For Will and Brit, their love was was forged in the face of slavery and years of separation from each other.
Will (sometimes called Bill) was enslaved by the Schuyler family at the Schuyler Mansion, their estate outside of Albany. Brit lived less than 2 miles away, on Market Street (roughly Broadway today), as an enslaved servant of the Ten Broeck family. Despite this geographic proximity, Brit and Will would have had little opportunity to see each other. They doubtless savored any moments that they could spend in each others' company.
From their later connections to the church, and the fact that both the Schuylers and Ten Broecks were part of the congregation, they probably attended church services together at the Dutch church on occasion. Their enslavers were also close friends, and it is possible that Brit and Will may have accompanied them during visits to the other's property. However, Will is not mentioned as one of Philip's regular attendants. Similarly, Brit is not mentioned as a personal attendant, and may have been assigned to cooking and housework, rather than accompanying the family on outings. 
The law also imposed severe limitations on their ability to be together. Strict, punitive legislation in place at various points in 18th century Albany, passed out of fear that social gatherings of slaves could lead to escape attempts or violent resistance, prevented enslaved people from gathering outside of their duties. The holiday of Pinkster was one of the only times of year when enslaved and free Black families were reliably able to come together for a time of celebration. This holiday may have been the only time when Will, Brit—and later their children and grandchildren—were able to spend any real amount of time together as a family. Even this holiday would have been taken from them in 1811, when the city of Albany outlawed the celebration of Pinkster (a law finally repealed in 2011)
A view of the Dutch Church in Albany, as seen from Market Street, circa 1805. This is largely the view that Brit would have seen as she walked from the Ten Broeck house on Market Street to the church for the baptism of her children, Susannah and Herry, and the path Susannah herself may have taken years later for the baptism of her own children.
By James Eights, painted from the artist's memory circa 1850. Albany Institute of History and Art, 1954.59.79.
Despite all of this, Will and Brit created a family together, and strove to maintain those bonds over the years through the spiritual community of the church. On March 4, 1772, they celebrated the baptism of their daughter, Susannah, at the Dutch Church in Albany. Just two years later, on June 26, 1774, they celebrated the baptism of a second child, named Herry.
This is where the record falls silent on the lives of Will and Brit. It is unknown if they remained enslaved by the Schuylers and Ten Broecks, respectively, or if one of them was eventually sold away—their family separated even further. Neither of them are mentioned in later Schuyler or Ten Broeck manumissions, making it likely that they either died in bondage or were sold to another enslaver at some point after the birth of their two children.
While we may never know what happened to Will or Brit, their eldest daughter, Susannah, married a man named Thomas Willinger at the Dutch Church in Albany on April 18, 1797. She was twenty five years old at this time, and continued the family association with the Dutch Reformed congregation. It appears that Thomas passed away at some point shortly after this, but five years later, on August 14, 1802, Susannah was married again, this time to Peter Roseboom, also at the Dutch Church. Over the next four years, Susannah and Peter had three children: Dinah, Susan, and Mary. At this time, enlsaved status followed the condition of the mother. As Susannah was still enslaved by Abraham and Elizabeth Ten Broeck at the time, her daughters were as well. 
Shortly after Abraham Ten Broeck’s death, on April 13, 1810, Susannah and her daughters were manumitted by Elizabeth Ten Broeck. The terms of the manumission were strict—demanding that Suannah return once a week to do Elizabeth Ten Broeck’s laundry and ironing. She was also required to assist the family at “killing season".
On March 13, 1811, only eleven months after Susannah, Dinah, Susan, and Mary were manumitted, Peter was manumitted upon Eve Roseboom’s death. When Elizabeth Ten Broeck died in 1813, Susannah herself was truly free. In their new freedom, the couple had one more child, a daughter named Jane, born to them on May 31, 1815. While the family disappears from the historical record as of 1820, we know that Susannah could live in freedom with her husband and children. Although Brit and Will never got to experience that life for themselves, their love and determination built a resilient relationship and family in the face of slavery. Through their daughter and granddaughters, their love and strength survived.



Wednesday, October 3, 2018

My Dear Sister: Eliza and Caty Post-Schuyler Sisters Land Squabble

By Jessie Serfilippi

Eliza Schuyler Hamilton
by Henry Inman, 1825.
In our previous blog post about the Schuyler sisters’ land squabble, we ended with a question: what was Eliza and Caty’s relationship like after the land dispute? Eliza won, but did she lose her relationship with her little sister as a consequence of her victory? While we have yet to find letters from Caty to Eliza dated after the land dispute, there are a handful of letters, now digitized by the New York Public Library, from Eliza to Caty that we will examine in this post to determine the state of Eliza and Caty’s relationship in the years following their legal trials.

The first known letter after the land dispute is dated October 25, 1814. Eliza wrote it from her home, The Grange, in Harlem. The letter was later published in A Godchild of Washington, a biography written about Caty, and the Schuylers, by Caty’s granddaughter, Katherine Schuyler Baxter. The biography itself is dubious at best. Filled with many exaggerations, outright legends, and prone to romanticizing the eighteenth century, what is contained within its pages must be read critically. It is unlikely that an entire letter from Eliza to Caty would be fabricated, but the possibility must be kept in mind, especially given the somewhat odd questions Eliza asked of Caty in the letter.

The premise of the letter isn’t at all strange. Eliza wrote to Caty to tell her that she may soon “have a prospect soon of seeing my dear husband’s life in the press,” which thrilled Eliza. She informed Caty that the biographer was “very anxious to have domestic anecdotes; indeed anything illustrative of his character” and asked her younger sister to mail her any memories she may have of her late brother-in-law. While the request itself isn’t odd—Caty knew Hamilton for the first twenty three years of her life until his death in 1804 (Alexander Hamilton had married Elizabeth months before Caty was born)—what, specifically, Eliza requested Caty to recall is strange.

Eliza asked Caty to write of Hamilton’s

…appearance when first known—his manners—habits and peculiarities—instances of his benevolence—facts connected with his first appearance at the Bar—and most particularly, anecdotes even of the most trifling description—circumstances when he left the army—also when in Legislature at Albany in 1786.  Also Incidents in 1782 while studying law at Albany—style of conversation—and indeed everything which will illustrate the elasticity of his mind, variety of his knowledge, playfulness of his wit, excellence of his heart, firmness, forbearance, virtues, &c.

Most of the memories Eliza requested Caty to recall would not exist for Caty because she was too
Caty Schuyler at 15. Most of
the time she knew Hamilton
she was a child.
young at the time the events occurred. When Hamilton left the army, Caty was under a year old. In 1782, when Hamilton studied law at the Schuyler Mansion and soon after appeared at the Bar, Caty was nearing two years of age. When Hamilton was at the “Legislature at Albany,” Caty was five.

Maybe Eliza forgot the age difference of twenty-four years between her and her youngest sister, or maybe she asked Caty for recollections she herself might not have, but may have heard from other family members. As of seven months prior, with Angelica’s death, Caty was the only other Schuyler sister left alive.

Whatever Eliza’s motivation for writing to Caty, this letter shows that the sisters did have a relationship after the land dispute. Eliza appeared comfortable writing to Caty and asking her for this favor. Near the beginning of the letter she wrote:

I know the pleasure that you will take in granting my request, and beg you will on receiving this, make a memorandum of all your recollections of him.

Eliza not only thought Caty would grant the request, but that she would find pleasure in doing so. This letter holds none of the awkwardness that may be expected between the siblings following such a drawn-out legal battle, but later letters may indicate some reluctance to correspond on Caty’s part.
In the next surviving letter between the sisters, written by Eliza from her Harlem home on November 8, 1818, Eliza encouraged Caty to write to her more often. She wrote:

I wrote to you some time in June with the shoon [shoes] you requested it would give me pleasure to hear from you frequently has your plan of residence succeeded and are you as agreably [sic] situated as your expected.

From this opening line, we know that Eliza sent Caty shoes she asked for and that Eliza has some basic knowledge about something going on in Caty’s life. Whether Eliza obtained that knowledge directly from Caty in a prior letter or through their brother, Philip Jeremiah, and his wife, Mary Ann, with whom Caty was close, is unclear.

Caty and her daughter, Catharine.
During the year this letter was written, Caty lived in Utica, New York, and had been widowed one year earlier. She had at least three, possibly four, children, the youngest of whom was three years old and, based on Eliza’s letter, seemingly had to move into a more affordable living arrangement upon the death of her husband. In that same letter, Eliza later asked if Caty had any neighbors and who they were, making it more likely that the “plan of residence” she referred to was about Caty moving somewhere new.

Eliza spent the next few lines writing about her quest to find a biographer to write about her late husband. She said she’d been to “Mount Vernon to Bedford [likely Bedford, MA] and Long Island on the same subject.” The inclusion of this information makes it seem as if the sisters were not in the habit of keeping a regular correspondence with each other. These are trips that would have to made over the course of months at the very least, and likely not between the time Eliza sent the “shoons” to Caty in June and the writing of this letter in November. This indicates that while Eliza seemed to desire a closer relationship with her sister, they had been somewhat distant from each other over the past few months, if not years.

Eliza closed the letter with some news of their family, perhaps to remind Caty of the innate bond they shared. She told Caty that their brother, Philip Jeremiah, “has gone on with his Lady [second wife, Mary Ann Sawyer] she has grown very full the both look very well.” What Eliza meant when she said Mary Ann Sawyer had “grown very full” is unclear. Mary Ann may have been pregnant with a child who did not survive, or Eliza may have been commenting on her weight. Philip Jeremiah and Mary Ann may have been going to Washington DC, as he was in the middle of his term as a Representative from New York to Congress.

Eliza closed the letter by begging her younger sister to come stay with her in Harlem over the winter:

I wish you were to pass the winter with me you have not any thing to do but to take care of your little ones and that you can do quite as well with me and be giving me a great pleasure   tho living in the Country I can make it agreeable to you we have an excellent Clergyman near us let me intreat [sic] you to cum [sic] down,  I send a little booc [sic] with a few articles

This letter shows Eliza’s desire for a closer relationship with her younger sister. While it made what Eliza wanted obvious, what Caty wanted was still relatively mysterious. It’d be unfair to judge Caty’s lack of response in this particular situation as she was already dealing with much hardship and turmoil after the death of her husband. Her lack of response to Eliza is not to be unexpected. She simply may not have had to time to respond.

The next surviving letter from Eliza to Caty is much shorter, but provides more insight to the closeness—or lack thereof—they shared:

My dear Sister                                                                                                                                     Grange June 7th- 1820
                In a letter from you to my James [Eliza’s son] you mention your having been ill why did you not write to me  that I might have gone and taken care of you,   let me intreat [sic] you to cum [sic] and stay with me the change will be of service to you and bring your little boys with you, you know they will be know [sic] in convenience to me. but a great pleasure therefor let me pray you to cum [sic] to me immediately [sic]. Aiedu [sic] Ever affectionatly [sic] Yours Eliza begs to be remembered to you
                                Ever your Affcetionat [sic] Sister
                                                E. Hamilton

Eliza by Daniel Huntington,
mid-1800s.
It is now evident that Eliza is not as close to Caty as she wants to be. Caty wrote to Eliza’s son, James, of her illness instead of to her sister. Caty may have felt closer to James—they were, after all, nearer to each other in age than she and Eliza were. There were twenty-four years separating Eliza and Caty, compared to a mere seven between Caty and James. It is also possible that Caty simply did not want to correspond with Eliza. Maybe she knew Eliza would offer to go to her, or entreat her to come to Harlem (as she had in the past) and didn’t want to spend time with her sister.

This tension between them could stem from the land dispute, or from the unusual nature of their sisterhood. While they were sisters, Caty had lived with Eliza, Hamilton, and their children during her schooling. This could have led to a strange relationship in their older age in which Eliza saw her more as a child than a sister. It is possible that Caty resented this, and saw Eliza’s offers to help as more motherly than sisterly.

While it’s unclear if Caty ever took Eliza up on any of her offers to visit at The Grange, according to , Eliza visited Caty in Oswego in 1847. Eliza would have been on the verge of turning ninety at the time this journey was made. While it is certainly possible she made the journey—and her letters to Caty indicate that she desired such a visit—it is impossible to conclusively state that she went because, as of now, our only evidence of such a visit is in A Godchild of Washington.

What we do know is that the following year, Eliza sent Caty a worsted bag she knitted herself. She attached a note to it:

New Brunswick, N.J. Oct. 3d, 1848
My Beloved Sister,
                Accept a little work that I finished since I have entered upon my ninety-second year. I hope that you and your dear ones are well.     Remember me most affectionately to them all.
                                                                                                                You loving Sister,
                                                                                                                                Elizabeth Hamilton

Not long after this, in about 1850, Eliza’s daughter, Elizabeth Hamilton Holly, wrote a letter to Caty. She began her letter by apologizing for not writing her aunt in a while. In the middle of her explanation for her silence, she added a line about her mother appearing as she wrote:

Mama has just entered and inquiring my occupation is now at this moment mingling in memory her spirit with yours, with both feet placed on the hearth, looking just as she did when you left her—

It’s implied that Caty had visited Eliza in Washington, D.C., where she was living at the time, at some point, since Elizabeth says her mother appeared just as she did when Caty left her. This means that not only is it possible that Eliza visited Caty, but that Caty may have made the trek to visit Eliza, as well. Maybe the sisters grew closer in old age—Eliza was 93 and Caty was 69 in 1850—because they were the only surviving siblings by that point. Their brother, Philip Jeremiah, died in 1835, and their brother Rensselaer died in 1847. By 1850, they were the only ones left from their once large family.

But it’s what comes at the very end of the letter that is perhaps most interesting. On a separate piece of paper, after already signing her name, young Elizabeth wrote:

Mama has just gone to her room, her presence confused my pen, and inquiries still more bewildered the sense of my note—

She then told her aunt more personal family information that she didn’t feel able to write about in her mother’s presence. Elizabeth wrote about her older sister, Angelica, who’d had a breakdown at the age of seventeen in 1801, visiting her and their mother recently. She told Caty about one of Cornelia Schuyler’s daughters, Mary Regina, arriving in D.C., and wrote of how her wealth through her marriage to William Starr Miller gave her the money to enter into the “gaiety” of Washington society.

The fact that Elizabeth felt “bewildered” by her mother’s presence suggests that Eliza could be somewhat overbearing and controlling. In this case, she hijacked her daughter’s letter to her aunt. After all, the letter was originally signed:

Mamas love to all and mine with best wishes for present and future happiness


Eliza at the age of 94.
This could offer the best insight into the distance between Eliza and Caty. Eliza may have been too overbearing at times, and Caty wanted to forge her own path, free of her sister’s control. In light of this interpretation, it is possible that the land dispute was a symptom of a larger issue between the two sisters that dated back to Eliza seeing Caty more as one of her children than one of her sisters. Hopefully, Eliza and Caty were able to move past this in their old age. Maybe they even grew to enjoy each other’s presence—whether through letters or visits— and maybe took comfort in sharing the common memories they had of their parents, siblings, and spouses, who they’d outlived by so many years.




Thank you to Ian Mumpton and Susan Holloway Scott for the insightful conversations about the nature of Eliza and Caty's relationship throughout their lives.