USA > Connecticut > Colonial Days And Ways: As Gathered from Family Papers > Part 13
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The arrival of this little company in advance of the main body of the refugees is traditionally said to have been due to repeated attempts on the part of armed bands of Tories to abduct the wealthy young patroon in the hope of extorting a heavy ransom. The later flight of the family of Philip Livingston and the other families that had been sheltered under his roof at Kingston was extremely hurried, but probably not quite unpremeditated; otherwise there could not have been so much
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household furniture and stuff brought across the river and over the forty or more miles of intervening hills and dales.
On the day of the departure from Kingston a "mounted runner " had been sent ahead to secure in Sharon such accommodations as might be avail- able. The women and children were therefore im- mediately provided with shelter, but for several nights their male companions were obliged to sleep in haymows. Refugees from places farther down the Hudson River had been for days, and even weeks, straggling into the little village, and many of them were without money or goods, so that the resources of the hospitable inhabitants had been already severely taxed.
Next door to the parsonage, where the first of the manor parties had been received, was a hand- some but not very large brick cottage, owned by Robert G. Livingston, which, during this season of fear, must have been more than sufficiently filled. Mr. Robert G. Livingston's family was numerous enough to crowd it without counting servants, and to this number was now added the family of his relative Philip Livingston, and that of the latter's daughter Sarah and her husband, the Rev. John Henry Livingston. The house - which, by succes- sive additions, all of them fortunately in keeping with the architecture of the original structure, is now a truly beautiful as well as spacious cot- tage belonging to the Rev. C. C. Tiffany - then
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contained but three rooms on the ground floor and three on the second, with two tolerably spacious attics over all; and, like the five loaves and two small fishes, what were they among so many ? The united families probably did not consist of less than twenty persons, exclusive of slaves. It is true that " the boys " seem to have found lodgings in neigh- boring houses, though all were already crowded with the patriot refugees from the Neutral Ground and the upper river counties - refugees of every age and rank, and in great numbers. Probably this quiet little village will never again be so densely populated as it was during the eventful months of the last third of the year of Burgoyne's surrender.
In September of that year all things were looking dark enough for the patriot cause. Burgoyne and his dreaded Indian allies were threatening from the north. Sir Henry Clinton, working up toward Burgoyne from New York, had intended to form a juncture with him. Sir Henry had sent up the Hudson a band of one thousand men under Gen- eral Vaughan -a name long afterward held in abhorrence from New York to Albany. This band did some gallant fighting in the capture of Forts Montgomery and Clinton, and some good work for their side in removing the chains and booms which General Putnam had caused to be stretched across the river to impede navigation ; but beyond these things it " accomplished nothing save a good deal of safe and cautious marauding."
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This included the burning, pillaging, and in far too many cases the murder of the defenseless.
In those days war was never undertaken as a philanthropic enterprise, and that boats and other means of transportation, as well as mills and stores of all sorts, should be destroyed was to be expected : but when village after village, however small, stra- tegically unimportant, or utterly incapable of resis- tance each might be, was given up to relentless pillage and then burned, great was the crop of bit- ter feelings sown, to be reaped by the loyalists when the fortunes of war eventually turned against them, especially as it was well known that to many a retired farm-house sheltering only women and children, as well as to more pretentious but still equally unprotected residences, the torch had been applied by the hands of neighboring Tories who once had been friendly to their owners. After the war, whenever there was found to exist the bit- ter spirit which cast the loyalists forth by thousands to take an unwilling refuge in the wilds of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, it was discovered, upon investigation, that acts of gratuitous cruelty had many times been committed by them, or at least by those whose cause they had espoused, for in this case, as in all others, the innocent suffered with the guilty.
On the Manor of Clermont, or the Livingston Lower Manor, as it was indifferently called, near Rhinebeck and Red Hook, on the eastern bank of
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the Hudson, stood the fine residences of the widow of Judge Robert R. Livingston and of her son, Robert R., afterward known as the first and very able Chancellor Livingston of the State of New York. Both of these mansions had long been marked for destruction, and their inmates had re- ceived repeated warnings to that effect, even before the general raid of Vaughan's troops had advanced from the Neutral Ground in the early October of 1777; yet the families had not left their homes until sure that the enemy was within a few hours' distance.
At this very time two British officers, a wounded Captain Montgomery and his surgeon, prisoners on parole, were being most hospitably entertained and cared for in the family of the elder Mrs. Living- ston. Tradition holds that this Captain Mont- gomery was a relative of Mrs. Livingston's late son-in-law, General Montgomery, who at an early period of the war had fallen while leading the Con- gressional troops to the assault of Quebec. How- ever this might be, both of the British officers begged their hostess not to forsake her home, promising that their presence should be a sure pro- tection to all under the roof that had so kindly sheltered them. It is stated that Mrs. Livingston refused to take advantage of the offer on the ground that she could not accept any favors shown to herself unless the same should be extended to her neighbors. But it may also have been that
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she did not have sufficient confidence in the power of her two friends to accomplish all that their hearts prompted. It would certainly seem that even if the owners of the house did not choose to remain and run the risk of personal violence, the presence in it of the invalid British officer and his physician might have protected the dwelling from fire and pillage. As this did not prove to be the case, the supposition is that their intercessions were of no avail.
Mrs. Livingston's flight was barely in time. The news of the pillagings lower down the river was not confirmed soon enough to enable the fugi- tives to make many preparations. Wagons which for some weeks had been held in readiness for any such emergency were hastily laden with pictures, silver, and other of the most precious possessions, and with the most necessary articles of furniture, clothing, and bedding. Of the rest, as much as possible was hidden in a deep ravine but a short distance from the rear of the house, underneath trees which had been felled across it some months before. Above the furniture in the cave thus formed was scattered a thick covering of hay. The entrance was on the lower end of the ravine and escaped the notice of the marauders. The books forming the fine library of the late Judge Livingston were laid in the dry basin of a large fountain in the front of the house, which had been allowed to get dry from the difficulty and expense attending
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repairs at this time. In this basin the books were covered first with old sloop sails, and then with barn-yard refuse. A number of these volumes were afterward found in fairly good condition, and some are still preserved in the families of rela- tives and friends to whom they were given as mementos.
Mrs. Livingston was the daughter of Colonel Henry Beeckman, and her mother was either a daughter or a granddaughter of Robert Livingston, Jr., nephew of the first lord of the manor. From all lines she inherited a sound body and an active mind. Both mentally and physically she was of heroic mold. While not in any way foolhardy, it is related that she knew not fear, and she certainly was possessed of one of the most valuable gifts in the world, a keen sense of humor, which is in itself no small aid to courage. It is a tradition among all branches of the family that on the morn- ing of this memorable flight, just as one of the first wagons was leaving the door, "Mother Margaret" burst into a hearty laugh, which broke out again at intervals all during the day - the exciting cause being the figure made by her cook, a ponderous old negro woman, perched in anxious and perilous importance on the top of a hastily packed load of provisions and kitchen utensils, and pointing her orders to her grandson, who was the acting charioteer, by wild thrusts of a long-handled toast- ing-fork, which by good fortune rarely hit its
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mark. The situation was, of course, funny enough, but most of us wait until after all danger is past before taking a proper sense of the ludicrous.
Mr. Charles H. Hunt, in his generally so accu- rate as well as interesting memoir of this Mrs. Livingston's youngest son,-in later years the cele- brated Governor Livingston of Louisiana, - states that the destination of the party was "Salisbury, in Berkshire County, Massachusetts." Salisbury is in Connecticut, being the northwesternmost corner of that little State, where the blue Berk- shire Hills smilingly refuse to acknowledge that they ever have borne allegiance to any other commonwealth.
The house in which the fugitive family was to take up its temporary abode stood very close to the boundary line of Sharon township, and was still capable of being made into a fine residence thirty-five years ago. It is melancholy to think that after remaining unoccupied for many years, being used in the meantime as a barn for hay, it has been neglected and despoiled until it is now but a disman- tled ruin. As I remember it in my girlhood, the old mansion was a remarkably fine specimen of the best sort of our colonial architecture. It was built of stone and brick, of two stories and an attic above a spacious basement, a part of which probably served as a cellar, and the rest for slave quarters, as was the case in other houses of similar construction and date. At the front and rear of the second story
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dormer windows were set in the sides of the pic- turesque hipped roof. On each side of the cen- ter of a wide hall, which traversed the house from front to rear, massive chimneys ran up above the peak of the roof. The fireplaces did not open into the hall, but into the two big square rooms on the south side and the one long room on the north, which is still called the ball-room. The broad hall was beautifully wainscoted, and was adorned by a staircase which in its proportions was once a de- light to the artistic eye. The ceilings of the first floor were high for that day, between ten and eleven feet, if my memory serves. All the rooms were large, finely proportioned, and admirably lighted by broad and deep windows. The ample fireplaces were surmounted by carefully finished mantel- pieces of wood. I think that all the principal rooms were wainscoted, and I am sure that the window- and door-casings were of finely simple designs. The doors themselves were well paneled, thick, and strong, hung by the long-reaching hinges of wrought-iron which add so much to picturesque effect. When I saw them these had all been dis- figured with paint, but my father has told me that in his youth the woodwork, of the parlor at least, was of some polished hard wood, he thought that of the cherry.
Probably not even the house she had left, though that was held to be fine in its day, was either finer or more spacious than this mansion in which Mrs.
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R. R. Livingston and her family now found shel- ter. The house had been built by a Mr. Swift, by whom it had been sold to one of the Livingstons not very long before the opening of the war. It is not known precisely why Mr. Swift had abandoned the locality, but it is believed that he was a Royalist who had taken refuge in Boston in 1775, whence he had fled when the British abandoned that city, in company with those Tory families who sought refuge in Nova Scotia.
Just how the house came to be unoccupied at this time is not quite certain. In 1777 it belonged to Mr. Robert Livingston, the third and, save by courtesy, the last lord of the Upper Manor. He appears to have loaned the house to the Clermont party at this juncture, and at a later date he occu- pied it himself at intervals for short periods. Some things lead one to suppose that he and his family may have been here at the same time with the Clermont party. It is uncertain whether or not all of the last-named party stayed here through the entire winter, though some of them are known to have done so. In the following spring we find that Mrs. R. R. Livingston, with a fine confidence in the bright destinies of the struggling colonies, began to rebuild her house at Clermont. After the beginning of the summer of 1778 the house in Salisbury was occupied, more or less steadily, until after the close of the war, by the family of Robert Cambridge Livingston, the son of Robert of the Upper Manor.
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I am here reminded that to readers not familiar with the subject, so many Roberts among the Livingstons may be confusing. Besides the five Robert Livingstons mentioned in this chapter, there were probably not less than a dozen more (of all ages), only to be distinguished from one another by their middle names, residences, and titles. The same was true of the Gilberts, and to nearly the same extent of the Johns and Henrys.
The life led by the refugees was both sad and joyous. On the one hand, all of them had suffered from loss and grief, and were never free from anxi- ety in regard to the possible fate of the dear ones in more exposed situations than their own. On the other hand, the lives of all were necessarily too laborious to leave room for idle repinings. Save for boys and old men, there were few white males left in this peaceful region. It is on record that the stated business meetings of the Congregational Society in Sharon were adjourned all through the autumn of this year, " by reason yt ye great num- ber of men in ye service of ye Country left too few Members at home." Yet the daily needs of a large family, accustomed to every luxury of the time, were not less pressing than if there were no stress of war.
It is traditionally related of Mrs. Livingston and her daughter, Mrs. Montgomery, that they, with the aid of some of the female slaves, acted as their own coachmen and hostlers during their stay in
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this region, in order that their men-servants might have more time to spend in grinding meal for daily use, and in keeping the fireplaces supplied with wood. Besides this, the Clermont party joined in all the patriotic labors in which the Sharon ladies were constantly engaged. Be it remembered that stockings for the army could not be purchased in sufficient quantities, and love must be trusted to supply the want. Spinning yarn and knitting stockings, preparing bandages and scraping lint, filled every patriotic woman's every moment that could be spared from the daily cares of her family - multitudinous cares of which we now know little. Yet pleasure was mingled with them all. Our great-grandmothers were as genial and as lovable as the least burdened of their granddaughters.
Early in November, 1777, began the husking bees. A series of them was held in the biggest barn which had then been erected in Sharon or its vicinity. It belonged to Captain Simeon Smith, M.D., a physician whose military title was due to service in the campaign of 1776, on Long Island, and in the country around New York, under General Washington. This barn was taken down in my childhood, and I can just remember its wide threshing-floor, upon which horses had in the olden days been used to tread out the grain, and which was so long that five loaded hay-wagons, with horses attached, could stand in line without difficulty.
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It was on this capacious threshing-floor that many of the husking frolics were held. As soon as the early November darkness had fallen, the huskers gathered from far and near. To-night it might be for Colonel Canfield's corn which had been brought here to be husked. He was with the army of Gates, and his neighbors would help both the colonel's family and their country in this humble way. Another night it might be that of some other patriot who was absent in the service of his country. It was a rule, unwritten but inflex- ible, that the planting and the harvests of the ab- sent soldiers must take the precedence of those who remained at home.
Before leaving their houses all the huskers, many of whom had considerable distance to come, had partaken of as good a meal as their circum- stances would permit, and all were very warmly wrapped. Good fires were kept burning in the wide fireplaces of Dr. Smith's large stone mansion, and to them the huskers often resorted, each in turn, and the work itself was warming when briskly done ; but the nights were cold. The toil was made as pleasurable as possible by songs and story- telling, but the needs were too urgent to permit of loitering over it. Men and women, bond and free, boys and girls, "quality " and "commonalty," natives and refugees, all toiled together and with equal cheer and earnestness.
After the evening's task was done and all had
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adjourned to the house, the different social grades sorted themselves apart and each " went to his own place." In the broad and high basement were the slave quarters, where, in front of blazing logs in wide fireplaces, they roasted potatoes in the ashes, and partook of apples, nuts, and cider, and after- ward were allowed to dance until their masters summoned them to start for home. In the great kitchen, in whose fireplace an ox might have been roasted whole, another set enjoyed themselves in a similar manner; and in the generous dining-room, where a big fireplace piled high with logs of cord- wood length filled the room with fragrance, warmth, and cheer, still another and probably more sumptuous repast was served.
After the supper, reels and contra-dances, where the feet beat merrily to the entrancing strains of the still traditionally remembered "Caius Tite's " fiddle, gave a sportive finish to an evening which, after all was done, had not been a long one, for all must be up and toiling again by daybreak or be- fore. All the manor ladies and boys, as well as their servants, took a part as often as possible in these pleasurable toils. So did the city divines who shared their retreat, as well as the resident parson, though it was thought to be etiquette for them to retire to the parlors immediately after the feast, that the dance might the more speedily be- gin without the restraint of their presence.
CHAPTER XVII A LITERARY CLUB IN 1779-81
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CHAPTER XVII. A LITERARY CLUB IN 1779-81.
The "Clio." Two Diaries. The Sharon Literary Club. Canfield. Spencer. News of Victory. Tailors and Clothes. Chancellor Kent. Noah Webster. Holmes the Historian.
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C OHETHER literary clubs were com- W mon things during our Revolu- 0 0 tionary War, there are small means of knowing. The mere fact that but few traces exist does not prove that there may not have been at least one in every township, both then and for many years before, though the supposition would be against such a conclusion. So great has been the loss of old papers from fires, removals, and even wanton destruction on the part of heirs who should have known better, that the wonder is rather that we know anything of the private and social life of the colonial and Revolutionary periods than that we know so little.
In our old garret, filling a portmanteau, and perhaps left just as they were hastily stuffed into it by a young Yale College graduate in 1784, when he was quitting the college dormitory for the last time, was found a motley collection of letters, es- says, translations, notes of lectures, and accounts of expenditures. Most interesting of all, for our pres- ent purpose, are two diaries and three odd copies
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of a manuscript publication edited by the young collegian's sister, Juliana Smith.
" The Clio, a Literary Miscellany," was legibly written in the script of different hands. The ink is still of an excellent black. The large, coarse- textured sheets of foolscap are ruled down the center of each page to form two columns, and the several sheets are tied together by cords of braided, homespun, unbleached linen thread. The three numbers are respectively dated : " December 10th, 1780," " January 30th, 1781," and "October, 1781." They contain odes, essays, proverbs, puzzles, sketches, and jokes -many of the latter being of a local coloring that has not stood the test of age. Most of the contents, particularly the sketches, would compare favorably with the larger part of
the printed literary matter of the periodicals of the day. It is especially notable, considering the inter- est in polemics which characterized the period, that we find no reference to theological opinions.
In the same package with these manuscript magazines were several small books of a diary kept by the brother in college for the benefit of the home circle, and a larger number of little books of the same sort kept by Juliana, that her " Bro- ther Jack " might be informed from time to time, as opportunity for transmission should serve, of the small happenings of home life. From both of these simple diaries I have gleaned many most in- teresting details of family and of college life, but it
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is principally from Juliana's lively pages that have been gathered the particulars of the literary club.
Juliana seems to have had an especially strong love both for hearing the ancestral traditions and for committing them to paper. Within the last eight or nine years my mother has told me that she had often heard her husband's grandfather - the " Brother Jack " of the diary - state that his mother and his sister Juliana were the most intel- lectual and the wittiest women whom he had ever known during a long life of social intercourse with the best society which our Union then afforded. They were considered especially good as narrators, and "to have coaxed either of them into telling a tale was to have provided the finest sort of an en- tertainment for a winter's evening." Of the cor- rectness of this filial and fraternal judgment there is abundant evidence in the pages of both Juli- ana's diary and of the "Clio." The introduction, " Mamma says," is rarely prefixed to anything that is unworthy of perusal both for its own sake and for the way in which it is told, and our Julian's signature is always something equally good.
From the diaries we learn that the "Clio " was issued bimonthly with a praiseworthy regularity, though often the numbers could not be sent to New Haven until several had accumulated. A "post-rider " was supposed to traverse the distance between Poughkeepsie and Hartford one week, and
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return the next, taking in the towns of Pleasant Valley and Amenia in the State of New York, and of Sharon and Salisbury and perhaps others in Con- necticut on his way; but very often, for one reason or another, he skipped a week or two, or more. The deep snows of the winters do not seem to have so frequently interfered with his progress as did the heavy freshets and fathomless mud of the springs and autumns. Probably from Hartford to New Haven the highways were kept in better order, for be- tween these points the "Post " was much more reli- able. There was also a regular post from Litchfield to New Haven, but the former place was twenty miles of bleak hill riding from Sharon. For all these reasons advantage was always taken of every private means of conveying letters. In the many thousands of letters dated prior to 1820, which I have examined, there may be found almost as many references to the unreliability of the post and the superior trustworthiness of private hands. Indeed, important letters were retained for weeks awaiting the convenience of some traveling friend "rather than to trust the Post."
Perhaps the disappearance of so many copies of the " Clio " is due to the precarious means of trans- portation, but, in view of the scarcity of printed periodicals, it is more likely that when the little papers were received by " brother Jack " they were passed from hand to hand until they were worn out or lost. The three surviving numbers - " One,"
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" Four," and "Nineteen " - had been carefully mended to prevent them from falling to pieces.
From the " Exordium " on the first page of " No. One " it appears that "The Sharon Literary Club was founded in January, 1779, the Rev. Cotton M. Smith being Chairman and Mr. John C. Smith [" brother Jack "] being Secretary." The design of the club was " to promote a taste for the study of Belles Lettres and of Logick, and to gain some skill in the useful Freeman's Art of Debate." The stated meetings of the club were to be "held on every Monday evening through the Year, save from May first to October first," during which months it may be supposed that time for such pursuits could not be well spared from the pressing duties of an agriculture conducted without steam-plows, wheeled harrows, corn-planters, cultivators, mow- ing-machines, horse-rakes, reapers and binders, tedders and threshing-machines, to say nothing of the numberless other implements to which we are now so accustomed that we forget that Noah did not find them waiting for him when he emerged from the ark.
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