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CHAPTER XVI.
THE OLDEN TIME
Wealth and Rank of the Ancient Families.—Their Vast Landed Estates.—Distinctions in Dress.—Veneration for the Patroon.—Kip's Mansion.—Days of the Revolution.—Mr. John Adams' Journal.—Negro Slavery.—Consequences of the System.—General Panic.
Many of the families who came from the Old World to the Hudson when New Netherland was under the Dutch regime, brought with them the tokens of their former rank and affluence. Valuable paintings adorned their walls. Rich plate glittered upon their dining table. Obsequious servants, who had been accustomed in feudal Europe to regard their masters as almost beings of a superior order, still looked up to them in the same reverential service. The social distinctions of the old country very soon began to prevail in the thriving village of New York. The governor was fond of show and was fully aware of its influence upon the popular mind. His residence became the seat of quite a genteel little court.
"The country was parcelled out," writes Rev. Bishop Kip,
"among great proprietors. We can trace them from the city of New Amsterdam to the northern part of the State. In what is now the thickly populated city were the lands of the Stuyvesants, originally the Bouwerie of the old governor. Next above were the grant to the Kip family, called Kip's Bay, made in 1638. In the centre of the island was the possessions of the De Lanceys. Opposite, on Long Island, was the grant of the Laurence family. We cross over Harlaem river and reach Morrisania, given to the Morris family. Beyond this on the East river, was De Lancey's farm, another grant to that powerful family; while on the Hudson to the west, was the lower Van Courtland manor, and the Phillipse manor. Above, at Peekskill, was the upper manor of the Van Courtlands. Then came the manor of Kipsburg, purchased by the Kip family from the Indians in 1636, and made a royal grant by governor Dongan two years afterwards.
"Still higher up was the Van Rensselaer manor, twenty-four miles by forty-eight; and above that the possession of the Schuylers. Farther west, on the Mohawk, were the broad lands of Sir William Johnson, created a baronet for his services in the old French and Indian wars, who lived in a rude magnificence at Johnson Hall."
The very names of places in some cases show their history. Such for instance, is that of Yonkers. The word Younker, in the languages of northern Europe, means the nobly born, the gentleman. In Westchester, on the Hudson river, still stands the old manor house of the Phillipse family. The writer remembers in his early days when visiting there, the large rooms and richly ornamented ceilings, with quaint old formal gardens about the house. When before the revolution, Mr. Phillipse lived there, lord of all he surveyed, he was always spoken of by his tenantry as the Yonker, the gentleman, par excellence. In fact he was the only person of social rank in that part of the country. In this way the town, which subsequently grew up about the old manor house, took the name of Yonkers.
The early settlement of New England was very different in its character. Nearly all the emigrants were small farmers, upon social equality, cultivating the fields with their own hands. Governors Carver and Bradford worked as diligently with hoe and plough as did any of their associates. They were simply first among equals.
"The only exception to this," writes Mr. Kip,
"which we can remember was the case of the Gardiners of Maine. Their wide lands were confiscated for their loyalty. But on account of some informality, after the Revolution, they managed to recover their property and are still seated at Gardiner."
For more than a century these distinguished families in New Netherland retained their supremacy undisputed. They filled all the posts of honor and emolument. The distinctions in society were plainly marked by the dress. The costume of the gentleman was very rich. His coat of glossy velvet was lined with gold lace. His flowing sleeves and ruffled cuffs gave grace to all the movements of his arms and hands. Immense wigs adorned his brow with almost the dignity of Olympian Jove. A glittering rapier, with its embossed and jewelled scabbard, hung by his side.
The common people in New Netherland, would no more think of assuming the dress of a gentleman or lady, than with us, a merchant or mechanic would think of decorating himself in the dress of a Major-General in the United States army. There was an impassable gulf between the peasantry and the aristocracy. The laborers on these large Dutch estates were generally poor peasants, who had been brought over by the landed proprietors, passage free. They were thus virtually for a number of years, slaves of the patroon, serving him until, by their labor, they had paid for their passage money. In the language of the day they were called Redemptioners. Often the term of service of a man, who had come over with his family, amounted to seven years.
"This system," writes Mr. Kip,
"was carried out to an extent of which most persons are ignorant. On the Van Rensselaer manor, there were at one time, several thousand tenants, and their gathering was like that of the Scottish clans. When a member of the family died they came down to Albany to do honor at the funeral, and many were the hogsheads of good ale which were broached for them. They looked up to the Patroon with a reverence which was still lingering in the writer's early day, notwithstanding the inroads of democracy. And before the Revolution this feeling was shared by the whole country. When it was announced, in New York, a century ago, that the Patroon was coming down from Albany by land, the day he was expected to reach the city, crowds turned out to see him enter in his coach and four."
The aristocratic Dutchmen cherished a great contempt for the democratic Puritans of New England. One of the distinguished members of a colonial family in New York, who died in the year 1740, inserted the following clause in his will:
"It is my wish that my son may have the best education that is to be had in England or America. But my express will and directions are, that he never be sent for that purpose, to the Connecticut colonies, lest he should imbibe in his youth, that low craft and cunning, so incidental to the people of that country, which is so interwoven in their constitutions, that all their acts cannot disguise it from the world; though many of them, under the sanctified garb of religion, have endeavored to impose themselves on the world as honest men."
Usually once in a year the residents in their imposing manorial homes repaired, from their rural retreats, to New York to make their annual purchases. After the country passed into the hands of the English, several men of high families came over. These all held themselves quite aloof from the masses of the people. And there was no more disposition among the commonalty to claim equality with these high-born men and dames, than there was in England for the humble farmers to deny any social distinction between themselves and the occupants of the battlemented castles which overshadowed the peasant's lowly cot.
Lord Cornbury was of the blood royal. The dress and etiquette of courts prevailed in his spacious saloons. "About many of their old country houses," writes Mr. Kip,
"were associations gathered often coming down from the first settlement of the country, giving them an interest which can never invest the new residences of those whom later times elevated through wealth. Such was the Van Courtland manor-house, with its wainscotted room and guest chamber; the Rensselaer manor-house, where of old had been entertained Talleyrand, and the exiled princes from Europe; the Schuyler house, so near the Saratoga battle-field, and marked by memories of that glorious event in the life of its owner; and the residence of the Livingstons, on the banks of the Hudson, of which Louis Philippe expressed such grateful recollections when, after his elevation to the throne, he met, in Paris, the son of his former host."
At Kip's Bay there was a large mansion which for two centuries attracted the admiration of beholders. It was a large double house with the addition of a wing. From the spacious hall, turning to the left, you entered the large dining-saloon. The two front windows gave you a view of the beautiful bay. The two rear windows opened upon a pleasant rural landscape. In this dining-room a large dinner party was held, in honor of Andre the day before he set out upon his fatal excursion to West Point. In Sargent's, "Life of Andre," we find a very interesting description of this mansion, and of the scenes witnessed there in olden time.
"Where now in New York is the unalluring and crowded neighborhood of Second avenue and Thirty-fifth street, stood, in 1780, the ancient Bowerie or country seat of Jacobus Kip. Built in 1655, of bricks brought from Holland, encompassed by pleasant trees and in easy view of the sparkling waters of Kip's Bay, on the East river, the mansion remained, even to our own times, in the possession of one of its founder's line.
"When Washington was in the neighborhood, Kip's house had been his quarters. When Howe crossed from Long Island on Sunday, September 15th, 1776, he debarked at the rocky point hard by, and his skirmishers drove our people from their position behind the dwelling. Since then it had known many guests. Howe, Clinton, Kniphausen, Percy were sheltered by its roof. The aged owner, with his wife and daughter, remained. But they had always an officer of distinction quartered with them. And if a part of the family were in arms for Congress, as is alleged, it is certain that others were active for the Crown.
"Samuel Kip, of Kipsburg, led a cavalry troop of his own tenantry, with great gallantry, in De Lancey's regiment. And despite severe wounds, survived long after the war, a heavy pecuniary sufferer by the cause which, with most of the landed gentry of New York, he had espoused.
"In 1780, it was held by Colonel Williams, of the 80th royal regiment. And here, on the evening of the 19th of September, he gave a dinner to Sir Henry Clinton and his staff, as a parting compliment to Andre. The aged owner of the house was present; and when the Revolution was over he described the scene and the incidents of that dinner. At the table Sir Henry Clinton announced the departure of Andre next morning, on a secret and most important expedition, and added, 'Plain John Andre will come back Sir John Andre.'
"How brilliant soever the company," Mr. Sargent adds,
"how cheerful the repast, its memory must ever have been fraught with sadness to both host and guests. It was the last occasion of Andre's meeting his comrades in life. Four short days gone, the hands, then clasped by friendship, were fettered by hostile bonds. Yet nine days more and the darling of the army, the youthful hero of the hour, had dangled from a gibbet."
For two hundred and twelve years this mansion of venerable memories remained. Then it was swept away by the resistless tide of an advancing population. The thronged pavements of Thirty-fifth street now pass over the spot, where two centuries ago the most illustrious men crowded the banqueting hall, and where youth and beauty met in the dance and song. In view of these ravages of time, well may we exclaim in the impressive words of Burke, "What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue."
In the year 1774, John Adams rode from Boston to Philadelphia on horseback, to attend the first meeting of Congress. His journal contains an interesting account of this long and fatiguing tour. Coming from the puritanic simplicity of Boston, he was evidently deeply impressed with the style and splendor which met his eye in New York. In glowing terms he alludes to the elegance of their mode of living, to the architectural grandeur of their country seats; to the splendor of Broadway, and to the magnificent new church they were building, which was to cost one hundred thousand dollars.
The aristocratic families of New York were generally in favor of the Crown. They were not disposed to pay any special attention to a delegate to the democratic Congress. He had therefore no opportunity of witnessing the splendor of these ancient families. Two lawyers who had become wealthy by their professional labors, received him with honor. At their breakfast tables he beheld display, common enough in almost every genteel household at the present day, but to which he was quite unaccustomed in his frugal home at Quincy. One cannot but be amused in reading the following description of one of his entertainments:
"A more elegant breakfast I never saw; rich plate; a very large silver coffee pot; a very large silver tea pot; napkins of the very finest materials; toast and bread and butter in great perfection. After breakfast a plate of beautiful peaches, another of pears and a muskmelon were placed on the table."
The Revolution proved the utter ruin of these great landed proprietors, who naturally espoused the cause of the British court. The habits of life to which they and their fathers had been accustomed necessarily rendered all the levelling doctrines of the Revolution offensive to them. They rallied around the royal banners and went down with them.
Some few of the landed proprietors espoused the cause of the people. Among others may be mentioned the Livingstons and the Schuylers, the Jays, the Laurences, and a portion of the Van Courtlands, and of the Morris family. Fortunately for the Patroon Van Rensselaer, he was a minor, and thus escaped the peril of attaching himself to either party.
Negro slavery in a mild form prevailed in these early years in New York. The cruel and accursed system had been early introduced into the colony. Most of the slaves were domestic servants, very few being employed in the fields. They were treated with personal kindness. Still they were bondmen, deprived of liberty, of fair wages, and of any chance of rising in the world. Such men cannot, by any possibility, be contented with their lot. Mr. William L. Stone, in his very interesting History of New York, writes:
"As far back as 1628, slaves constituted a portion of the population of New Amsterdam; and to such an extent had the traffic in them reached that, in 1709, a slave market was erected at the foot of Wall street, where all negroes who were to be hired or sold, stood in readiness for bidders. Their introduction into the colony was hastened by the colonial establishment of the Dutch in Brazil and upon the coast of Guinea, and also by the capture of Spanish and Portuguese prizes with Africans on board.
"Several outbreaks had already happened among the negroes of New Amsterdam; and the whites lived in constant anticipation of trouble and danger from them. Rumors of an intended insurrection real or imaginary, would circulate, as in the negro plot of 1712, and the whole city be thrown into a state of alarm. Whether there was any real danger on these occasions, cannot now be known. But the result was always the same. The slaves always suffered, many dying by the fagot or the gallows."
In the year 1741, a terrible panic agitated the whole city in apprehension of an insurrection of the slaves. The most cruel laws had been passed to hold them firmly in bondage. The city then contained ten thousand inhabitants, two thousand of whom were slaves. If three of these, "black seed of Cain," were found together, they were liable to be punished by forty lashes on the bare back. The same punishment was inflicted upon a slave found walking with a club, outside of his master's grounds without a permit. Two justices could inflict any punishment, except amputation or death, upon any slave who should make an assault upon a Christian or a Jew.
A calaboose or jail for slaves stood on the Park Common. Many of the leading merchants in New York were engaged in the slave trade. Several fires had taken place, which led to the suspicion that the slaves had formed a plot to burn the city and massacre the inhabitants. The panic was such that the community seemed bereft of reason. A poor, weak, half-crazed servant-girl, Mary Burton, in a sailor's boarding house, testified, after much importunity, that she had overheard some negroes conferring respecting setting the town on fire.
At first she confined her accusations to the blacks. Then she began to criminate white people, bringing charges against her landlord, his wife and other white persons in the household. In a History of this strange affair written at the time, by Daniel Horsmanden, one of the Justices of the Supreme Court, we read,
"The whole summer was spent in the prosecutions. A coincidence of slight circumstances was magnified, by the general terror, into violent presumptions. Tales collected without doors, mingling with the proofs given at the bar, poisoned the minds of the jurors, and this sanguinary spirit of the day suffered no check until Mary, the capital informer, bewildered by the frequent examinations and suggestions, began to touch characters which malice itself dare not suspect."
During this period of almost insane excitement, thirteen negroes were burned at the stake, eighteen were hanged, and seventy transported.
I cannot conclude this treatise upon the olden time better than by quoting the eloquent words of Mr. Kip:
"The dress, which had for generations been the sign and symbol of a gentleman, gradually waned away, till society reached that charming state of equality in which it became impossible, by any outward costume, to distinguish masters from servants. John Jay says, in one of his letters, that with small clothes and buckles the high tone of society departed. In the writer's early day this system of the past was just going out. Wigs and powder and queues, breeches and buckles, still lingered among the older gentlemen, vestiges of an age which was vanishing away.
"But the high toned feeling of the last century was still in the ascendant, and had not yet succumbed to the worship of mammon, which characterizes this age. There was still in New York a reverence for the colonial families, and the prominent political men, like Duane, Clinton, Golden, Radcliff, Hoffman and Livingston, were generally gentlemen, both by birth and social standing. The time had not yet come when this was to be an objection to an individual in a political career. The leaders were men whose names were historical in the State, and they influenced society. The old families still formed an association among themselves, and intermarried, one generation after another. Society was therefore very restricted. The writer remembers in his childhood, when he went out with his father for his afternoon drive, he knew every carriage they met on the avenues.
"The gentlemen of that day knew each other well, for they had grown up together and their associations in the past were the same. Yet, what friendships for after-life did these associations form! There was, in those days, none of the show and glitter of modern times. But there was, with many of these families, particularly with those who had retained their landed estates and were still living in their old family homes, an elegance which has never been rivalled in other parts of the country. In his early days the writer has been much at the South, has staid at Mount Vernon when it was held by the Washingtons; with Lord Fairfax's family, at Ashgrove and Vancluse; but he has never elsewhere seen such elegance of living as was formerly exhibited by the old families of New York.
"One thing is certain, that there was a high tone prevailing at that time, which is now nowhere to be seen. The community then looked up to public men, with a degree of reverence which has never been felt by those who have succeeded them. They were the last of a race which does not now exist. With them died the stateliness of colonial times. Wealth came in and created a social distinction which took the place of family; and thus society became vulgarized.
"The influences of the past are fast vanishing away, and our children will look only to the shadowy future. The very rule by which we estimate individuals has been entirely altered. The inquiry once was, 'Who is he?' Men now ask the question, 'How much is he worth?' Have we gained by the change?"
