USA > New York > New York City > Walks in our churchyards; old New York, Trinity Parish > Part 6
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glory of the sun of the resurrection the mists of prejudice will be found to have vanished and peace will spread her white wings over the reunited fam- ily as they troop up joyously to the throne of judgment.
At the distance of less than a stone's throw from the tomb of Alexander Hamilton is a slab of sandstone, lying prone upon the earth, and bear- ing the inscription, " Matthew L. Davis' Sepul- chre, 1818." The graveyard makes strange meet- ings, for the man who sleeps in the sepulchre was the friend and biographer of Aaron Burr, the slayer of Hamilton. As the venerable Grant Thorburn pathetically wrote in a letter, " Matthew L. Davis was the last friend that Aaron Burr pos- sessed on earth." In many respects he was a re- markable man and though almost forgotten now he was one of the most prominent figures in the troublous political era in which Hamilton, Burr and De Witt Clinton were the leaders. He was a merchant, doing business as an auctioneer in lower Pearl Street at first and afterwards living and con- ducting extensive commercial operations at 49 Stone Street. On the July afternoon that wit- nessed the shooting of Hamilton, Matthew L.
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Davis accompanied Burr in the row boat which carried him to Weehawken, and at the time of the exchange of shots he stood in company with Dr. Hosack under the bluff at the river bank, awaiting the outcome of the duel. Afterwards he was imprisoned for some days by order of the coroner for refusing to testify at the inquest. His subsequent career was honorable and suc- cessful and he was honored in his death, as he had been in life, by the men of his generation. Now, under the shadow of the cross and in the quiet of the same churchyard, with their old antagonisms all forgotten, Hamilton and Davis take their rest after the tossings of life's fitful fever.
Close by the south porch of the church is a stone which bears the simple inscription " Wy- nant Van Zandt" and covers the vault of the family bearing that name. Theirs has been a notable name in the annals of the city and church. There was a Wynant Van Zandt who was Assistant Alderman of the Dock Ward in 1788 and Alderman from 1789 to 1794; Wy- nant Van Zandt, Jr., was Alderman of the First Ward from 1802 to 1806, and Peter Pra Van
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Zandt was Alderman of the Third Ward from 1791 to 1793, and member of Assembly from 1777 to 1784. Johannes Van Zandt, first of the name in New Amsterdam, emigrated from the city of Anheim, Holland, in 1682. His son, Wynant, was born in New York in 1683 and died in 1763. His home in Horse and Cart Lane, now William Street, was a model of luxury and refinement in its day. Jacobus, the oldest son of Wynant Van Zandt, was imbued with the old Dutch spirit of resistance to tyranny and became a member of the first Provincial Con- gress of New York and was afterwards surgeon in the army of Washington at Valley Forge and the New Jersey campaign that opened with the victory at Trenton. His beautiful daughter Cath- arine was the belle of the inauguration ball of President Washington in this city and married James Hower Maxwell, the banker. Wynant Van Zandt, second of the name, was born in New York in 1730, and died in 1814. The third Wynant, son of the second of that name was born here in 1767 and died in 1831, and the name descended to his grandson. All men of worth in their gen- erations, as well as wealth, they needed no other
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eulogy than the carving of their name upon the stone door of their last home upon earth.
Life has queer changes in store for men who mark out for themselves the line they propose to pursue and who mourn in youth a lost opportunity to pursue the profession of their choice. It is told of George Washington that he earnestly desired, while yet a boy, to obtain a commission as mid- shipman in the navy of King George, and only gave up his wish at the earnest entreaties of his mother. Had he possessed less filial affection he would have missed the high honor he afterwards attained as "first in the hearts of his country- men."
In the southwest corner of Trinity churchyard is a plain slab inscribed with the name of John J. Morgan. Born in the city of New York, of Welsh parentage, he was commissioned a midshipman in the royal navy, while yet a mere boy, and set out to win his laurels on the sea. A storm disabled the ship of war and she was captured by an American privateer that brought the vessel and her crew into the harbor of Boston. Young Mor- gan was among the captured officers, but after a while was released and sent to New York. Here
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he seems to have become sick of the sea and of the cause in which he had embarked. Remaining in the city after the departure of the British troops, he turned his attention to the legal profession and entered the law office of General Morgan Lewis, a soldier of the Revolution and afterwards Gov- ernor of the State. After being admitted to the bar, he married Catharine Warne, a niece of the gallant old patriot, Marinus Willett, and at once took his place among the leading men of the young republic. Honors flowed in upon him. He was elected Member of Assembly, served two terms as Representative in Congress and for a short time was Collector of the Port of New York. Mr. Morgan was also for many years a vestryman of Trinity Church, and during his long and useful life was identified with many of the public enter- prises of the community. In 1859 he fell asleep, at the ripe age of four-score and ten years, with the testimony of a good conscience and in full communion with the church. His niece and adopted daughter married Major-General John A. Dix, U. S. A., father of the present Rector of Trinity Church.
In my walk I turn my way, as I leave the 8
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churchyard, from the names known to history and fame to the records of humbler sleepers and recognize with a thrill of sympathy the love that reared their monumental stones. I stop to read the words that tell of the fate of the daughter of Richard Thorne, and though he has long since gone to the land in which there are no tears and no graves, I feel an infinite pity for the father who was bereaved of his child and who appealed to the sympathy of the world in these lines of limp- ing rhyme :
" Three days' fever snatched her breath, And bowed her to triumphant death. When scarce twelve years had crowned her head, Behold in dust her peaceful bed."
A few paces distant is the last, grass-grown, cradle of a babe. An inscription on an old and decaying stone sets forth that this is the grave of "John, son of Arthur and Mary Darley. Died, 1797, aged 7 months." Was the little one the first born of the sorrowing couple ? Was he their only child ? There is nothing to make answer, but the stone reared over the baby's dust is a mute witness to the tenderness with which he must have
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been loved. Beneath the name and record of the infant is the inscription :
" O happy probationer ! Accepted Without being exercised."
This is the cry of faith triumphant over the pang of bereavement. Its peculiar phrasing leads one to believe that the parents were of the early Methodists who kept their allegiance to the Church of England, while admiring the zeal of the pioneer preachers of the new " methods" in religion. It is the language of Wesley and Whit- field and Embury, who buried some of their dead here and who held that the old church of Cranmer and Hooper and Laud was the bulwark of the ancient and apostolic faith. But apart from these questions, the quaint inscription over the baby's dust is simply beautiful. There is no room for doubt. The little one is accepted, and grief can become even joy because the brief probation brought neither sin nor sorrow in its train. So I go on my way with the words "I am the good shepherd " following my steps and looking up through the clear sunlight of faith I see Him ten- derly bearing in His bosom this little lamb of the fold.
IX.
IT has occurred to my mind more than once that the merchants of New York as a rule take too little pride in their profession. Especially does this thought recur when I tread the paths of this ancient churchyard and read on one stone after another the names of men whose genius in business has enriched the city and whose patriotism has been a bulwark of the re- public. Statues in bronze have been erected in our streets to the memory of Washington and Lafayette, who drew their swords in the cause of freedom, and why should not like honor be paid to Francis Lewis and Philip Livingston, the two great New York merchants who hazarded life and all they had when they signed their names to the Declaration of Independence ? Philip Livingston died in harness and is buried in the graveyard of the little city of York, Pennsylvania, when the fugitive Congress was there in session Francis Lewis saw his home destroyed and his family scattered by foreign invaders, and after sacrificing his property on his country's altar, was gathered to his fathers in a ripe old age and lies
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buried in Trinity churchyard, where also sleeps his illustrious son, Governor Morgan Lewis, sol- dier of the Revolution.
It was in 1735, when New York was a little city of nine thousand inhabitants, that Francis Lewis, a native of Wales, whose father was then Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral in London, came to this city to engage in trade. Fortune smiled upon him from the start and in twenty years his ships were known in all seas. At the time of the French war of 1755 he was at Oswego when it was surren- dered to General Montcalm and with the rest of the prisoners was turned over to the Indian allies of France. Every prisoner was killed in cold blood except Francis Lewis and tradition relates that his life was spared because he could talk with them, owing to the resemblance of their language to the ancient Welsh dialect, which they could un- derstand ! There is a legend that a Welsh prince once settled in the Western world and the great Southey took it as the text for his "Madoc." Sent as a prisoner to France he was soon ex- changed, returned to his home in New York and shortly afterwards entered with heart and soul into the cause of the colonies. As early as 1765
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he was a member of the Provisional Congress which opposed the Stamp Act and in 1775 was elected to the Continental Congress at Philadel- phia, where in 1776 he signed the Declaration of Independence on behalf of the colony of New York. In that year his house at Whitestone, on Long Island, was plundered by the British, his valuable library destroyed and his wife made pris- oner, kept captive for several months and so rig- orously treated that she soon after died. Gener- ous as well as patriotic, Francis Lewis sacrificed the bulk of a large property to the cause of his country, and after independence was gained lived quietly at his home in Cortlandt Street, resting after his labors. Though he was then seventy years of age, he accepted the position of vestryman of Trinity Church and held it for several years. Twenty years later the end came and on the 30th of December, 1803, he died, at the age of ninety and was buried in Trinity churchyard.
There was one cross in the life of this "grand old man " which was particularly hard to bear. His daughter Ann, whom he dearly loved, was wooed by a British naval officer, Captain Robinson, who had won her heart. The father would not
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listen to the lovers and they were married in secret by the Rev. Dr. Inglis, rector of Trinity Church, who left the city with the British forces, and was afterwards Bishop of Nova Scotia. One of the daughters of this couple married Bishop Sumner afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, and another wedded Bishop Wilson of Calcutta. So time made some amends in the direction of the Church if not the State, for this seeming lapse from patrio- tism. The sons of Francis Lewis, on the other hand, went heart and soul with their father in the devotion to the land in which they were born. Francis, the eldest, was a man of influence, grew rapidly rich and married a sister of Daniel Ludlow, one of the most eminent merchants of New York in the last century. He died in 1814 at the age of seventy-three and is interred with his father. One of the daughters married Samuel G. Ogden, who was a distinguished merchant of this city at the opening of the present century.
Even more famous than his illustrious father was Morgan Lewis, second son of the old Signer. Taking up arms at the Revolutionary Struggle, he distinguished himself at Stillwater where he was the officer who received the surrender of
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Burgoyne's troops, and rose to the command of a regiment. In the war of 1812 he was a Major- General, did good service at the Niagara frontier and had charge of the defenses of New York. In looking up his military record I was surprised to find that in November, 1775, Morgan Lewis was appointed first Major of the Second Regiment, of which John Jay was Colonel. I had never heard of the distinguished jurist as a soldier and I find that other important duties intervened and that he did not accept the command. Equally competent in the forum and the field, Morgan Lewis served as Attorney-General and Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of this State, and was elected Governor and afterwards United States Senator. In 1779 he married Gertrude, daughter of Chancellor Livingston. Their only child, a daughter, became the wife of Maturin Livingston. For forty years or more the Gov- ernor occupied a spacious double mansion at the corner of Church and Leonard Streets, where he dispensed a patriarchal hospitality. From this house he was buried on April 11, 1844. I re- call the occasion. As Governor Lewis was Presi- dent-General of the Society of the Cincinnati and
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Grand Master of Masons, there was to be a great display, and every schoolboy in town-of whom I was one-was anxious to see it, and I think we were all there. The military, the veterans of the Cincinnati, the martial music and the para- phernalia of the Free Masons, made an imposing and stately procession. The streets were thronged with people on the whole line of march, from the house on Leonard Street to St. Paul's Church where the funeral services were held-Trinity Church being then in process of rebuilding. I remember that I had eyes only for one man, the venerable Major Popham, last survivor of the original members of the Cincinnati, whom George Washington had commissioned, who was hale and hearty at ninety-two and looked as if he might round the century. There had been talk of this veteran at my home and with the old Revolutionary colonel lying in his coffin, the Major who survived him became to my eyes almost coeval with the Pharaohs, and I watched him and wondered what thoughts were throb- bing under his fur-white hairs and what mem- ories of other days were tugging at his heart.
In the robing-room of Trinity Church there
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is a mural tablet which bears the following in- scription :
Sacred To the Memory of Thomas Ludlow Ogden, For 38 Years Vestryman of this Parish And at the time of his death Senior Warden.
Born at Newark, N. J., Dec. 12th, 1773. Died in the City of New York, Dec. 17th, 1844.
Of sound judgment and untiring industry, The one improved by diligent cultivation, The other quickened by religious principles ; His long life was one of usefulness and duty. Born and nurtured in the bosom of the Church He gave back to her with filial gratitude His best powers, his most valued time, His dearest affections : In all her institutions Stood foremost in both counsel and action. Christian obedience mark'd his course, Christian peace crowned his end In a Christian hope.
An English ancestor of the subject of this eulogy came to this country more than two hundred years ago, and made their home on Long Island. The family were Independents or Con- gregationalists in religion, at first, but finding
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that " the little finger of Puritanism is stronger than the loins of prelacy " in the matter of sec- tarian oppression and interference with freedom of conscience, they gave in their allegiance to the Church of England and transferred the glebe lands of the Hempstead meeting-house to the Episco- pal church of that place. | Thomas Ludlow Ogden who so faithfully served the church of his fathers' adoption, was the third son of Abraham Ogden and Sarah Francis Ludlow, and was a graduate of Columbia College and a student in the law office of Richard Harison, vestryman and sometime Comptroller of Trinity Parish. Abraham Ogden, his father, was a distinguished lawyer in whose office at Morristown were educated many eminent men, such as Richard Stockton, Josiah Ogden Hoffman, Attorney-General of the State of New York, and Martin Hoffman, the great political leader. The last two were nephews of Mr. Ogden whose sister had married Nicholas Hoffman. Two of the sons of Abraham Ogden emigrated to the regions of the St. Lawrence where they did the work of pioneers and gave their family name to the city of Ogdensburg. Thomas L. Ogden re- mained in New York, devoted himself to his pro-
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fession and accumulated a fortune by it. He held many important trusts, and for years was the law officer of the corporation of Trinity Church, as well as clerk and vestryman for thirty-five years and Senior Warden for three years more. It seems a pity that so useful a life could not have been continued a few months longer, for Mr. Og- den was chairman of the Building Committee of the present church edifice which was completed less than seventeen months after his decease. His book of minutes of the meetings of this committee show how deep was his interest in the work of construc - tion. But God had something better in store for him and when we who survive were marching up the aisle of the new Trinity Church on the bright May morning in 1846 that saw the beautiful edifice consecrated, he was walking through the streets of the city whose walls are of jasper and whose foundations are garnished with all manner of precious stones.
The Rector, Wardens and Vestry of Trinity Church have made and left their mark on the streets of New York, not alone in such titles as Rector, Church and Vestry Streets and St. John's Lane, but in Vesey, Barclay and Beach Streets
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which were named after old-time ministers of the parish and in more than a score of thoroughfares which bear the names of prominent members of the corporation. Among those last are Murray, Warren, Chambers, Reade, Jay, Harison, North Moore, Beach, Laight, Desbrosses, Vandam, Watts, Charlton, King, Hamersley, Clarkson, Le Roy, Morton, Barrow and others. These names, fa- miliar to my ears for half a century, come back to me now as I stand by the family vault that bears the name of Reade inscribed upon it. To modern New York the stone has not much signifi- cance, but there was a time when there was but one official in the colonial province more powerful than "the Honorable Joseph Reade, of this city, one of His Majesty's council for this Province." A century and a half ago, he was a wealthy mer- chant of New York and a recognized leader in social and ecclesiastical matters. He was elevated to the position of member of the Provincial Coun- cil in 1764 and died in 1771, leaving a daughter who had been married in 1748 to James, son of Abraham De Peyster.
It is in its connection with Trinity parish that the name of Reade is especially interesting. The
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first recorded meeting of the managers and mem- bers of Trinity Church was held on the 28th of June, 1697, and at this meeting Lawrence Reade was present. His official connection with the par- ish lasted from 1697 to 1709, but before he died he saw his son Joseph elected a member of the vestry. While still a comparatively young man, Joseph Reade was elected a warden of the church and he filled the office for almost half a century -from April, 1721, to April, 1770. At a meet- ing of the Rector, Church-Wardens and Vestry- men of Trinity Church, held May 30, 1770, the resignation of Mr. Reade, based on the plea that " his age did not permit him to go through the business with that ease and satisfaction he could wish," was accepted and unanimous resolutions of thanks for his long and faithful services were or- dered sent to him by the hands of the Rector, the Rev. Samuel Auchmuty, D.D. In less than a year the good old man, whose name and deeds had been fragrant as incense in the church, had gone to his reward. The "New York Journal " or " General Advertiser " of March 7, 1771, spoke of him as follows: " On Saturday last died the Hon- orable Joseph Reade, of this city, one of His
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Majesty's Council for the Province, after a very short indisposition, and on the Tuesday following, his corpse being preceded by the children of the Charity School here (near Trinity School) of which he was one of the principal promoters, and at- tended by the principal gentlemen of the city, was deposited in the family vault in Trinity churchyard. Of this gentleman it may be truly said that his life and manners were exemplary. As a merchant he was eminently upright, punc- tual to all his business and transaction ; as a Christian he entertained just sentiments of the truths and grace of the Gospel, and zealously and industriously endeavored to regulate his life and conduct according to its precepts. In him, added to an unusual amiableness and evenness of tem- per were happily united all the endearing qualifica- tions of a most affectionate, obliging husband, father and kind master. He was affable, friendly and virtuous." Somewhat quaint is the language of this obituary, but what more could you have in the way of ripened manhood. " Man has made him a little lower than the angels," says Holy Writ, and once in a while we see it proven in the pure, sweet life of one of the elect.
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It is not a little remarkable that among the members of the vestry who accepted the resigna- tion of Senior Warden Reade, are six gentlemen who, like Mr. Reade, gave their names to city streets or were sons of those who originally did so. These are John Desbrosses, Junior Warden, and Messrs. Van Dam, Charlton, Laight, Clark- son and Barclay, members of the vestry. No other ecclesiastical corporation has ever made its mark so deep and plain upon a city and commu- nity in this country.
I close this paper with an epitaph from a tomb in the oldest and most thickly settled part of the churchyard, that lies above the North porch. The stone marks the resting-place of two women, one of whom died at the age of 84 and the other was called away when she had seen but 26 summers. The inscription closes with these remarkable lines of versification :
" Bouth old and young, as well as me, Must in due time all Burried be. Under this body of cold clay Just in my prime I'm forced to lay."
To which of the two were these lines intended to apply ? Is a woman in her prime at eighty-
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four or at twenty-six ? No man would dare de- cide, and it might even puzzle a jury of women. But it sounds like the lament of the younger of the twain, who mourns the departure of her strength and beauty. " Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, all is vanity ! "
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X.
IT seemed a strange coincidence when I re- ceived from a venerable aunt of mine at the far West, who had never read any of the papers or so much as heard of them, a letter which contained some family documents and one of them the record of a burial in Trinity churchyard. There was a letter from the young mother whom I do not re- member, the only letter of hers that I have ever had, and one from my father announcing her death in France, the only scrap of his handwriting in my possession. With these missives came my grandmother's marriage certificate, dated at New York, October 29, 1810, signed " Benj. Moore, Rector of Trinity Church," and written out in full in his clerkly hand. Honors had then clustered around the scholarly head of the venerable rector, for he was Bishop of the Diocese and President of Columbia College as well. But to me the most touching relic was a lock of golden hair, as thick as my little finger, cut from the head of a dead baby nearly eighty years ago. It is as sunny and silken as when it flashed like sunshine from the tiny head of its owner and was the pride of a
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mother's heart. The record on the stained and time-worn paper in which it is enclosed, reads : " A lock of Alexina's hair, cut off after her Death. She died at 7 o'clock A. M., Tuesday, August 1I, 1812, aged 11 months and 13 days; buried same day in Trinity churchyard, Broadway, New York, a little north of the church."
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