Related Families
DeWitt Family
Story Section
Old
Kingston: New York's First Capital
It was old
Perhaps to its lack of enterprise
is due much of the attractiveness of the old town. A certain dreamy
atmosphere
still pervades it. The activities of the present pale before the
suggestions of
the past. The whistle of the locomotive, the whir of machinery, the
growing
number of shops, houses, churches, -none of these seem to the
sojourners in
Early records show that in 1614 a
fort and trading post were established by the Dutch at the mouth of the
Rondout, at the same time that similar forts were built at
We cannot wonder at the selection
of this lovely site by the pioneers of that date, who, indeed, called
it “an
exceedingly beautiful land.” The high tableland now known as
A newcomer has said of the town, “Every steet has a character of its own, each totally different from every other.” An earlier common saying was, “Every other house is a barn and every other white man a negro.” Indeed, the general removal of the big barns that, like the houses, with their cozy old stoops, fronted close upon the streets, is comparatively recent; and the number of colored inhabitants is still noticeable.
There is an unusual mingling of edifices, antique and modern, elegant and plain, oddly significant of the relationships and associations of the inhabitants. Next to a mansion of colonial size and proportions may be some modest little dwelling or shop; all, even in the newer portions of town, seeming as if dropped down by chance.
The first building usually
noticed by the stray tourist to the Catskills, who by chance spends a
night at
The names and dates on the tombstones deserve attention. The oldest stone is a narrow bluestone slab, resting against a cedar stump, and rudely marked by the initials “D. W.” and the date “1710.” Previous to this date, it is said, interments were made beneath the church, - not the present structure, but one nearly on the same site. The names De Witt, Elmendorf, Wynkoop, Tenbroeck, Oosterhoudt, Van Gaasbeek, etc., betoken Holland ancestry; Severyn Bruyn tells of Norwegian origin; while Dumond, DuBois, Hasbrouck, commemorate French progenitors.
The first glance within shows,
above the pulpit, a memorial window of rare beauty and value, recently
presented to the church by Mr. David H. Houghtaling, of
Passing through the church, of
noble proportions and severe Roman architecture, we find much to
inspect. In
the pastor’s study, in the belfry, is an oaken chest, bearing the date
1676.
Its massive key is attached to an immense iron chain. This chest
contains the
records of the church, in the Dutch language, -a full register of her
baptisms,
communicants, and marriages. In antique French are preserve the
accounts of
business connected with her early history. Among the many names
perpetuated on
tablets on the walls is that of Gilbert Livingston. He was the third
son of the
original patentee of Livingston Manor, and is deserving of more than
the simple
mention here given, as he was the first person in the State who
manumitted his
slaves. Two noticeable monuments are to the memory of Rev. John Cantine
Farrell
Hoes,
The church was organized in 1656,
by a lay reader named Van Slyke or Van der Sluys, an ancestor of the
present
pastor. He was called the “comforter of the sick,” who “spoke the words
of the
Lord,” to the little colony. The ancient communion service tells of the
close
ties binding this church, in its early cays, to that beyond the seas, -
two
tall, curiously wrought silver beakers, having been sent over as gifts
from the
Beneath the church are buried many whose names meet our eyes upon the marbles upon the interior walls. Many of these names are still borne by members of the present congregation, and are familiar sounds among the simple people who still meet and mingle with little thought of social differences, and are all united in deep loyalty to the “old church,” as it is commonly called through the vast stretch of country once forming its parish.
Until 1808, its services were
conducted, either wholly or in part, in the Dutch language. Indeed, to
the
present generation it was formerly a matter of course to hear kindly
greetings
exchanged in the
Nearly opposite the churchyard –
through which, as a thoroughfare, pass the busy feet of the present
generation
– is the court house, inscribed with the date of its erection, 1818.
This
building, too, replaces a much older one alluded to in some of the
earliest
accounts of national events, which had above its doorway the following
inscription, cut in stone: “This town was burned by British cruelty on
Not far away, yet on the “East
Front” of what was formerly the village, - earlier the “fortje,”
enclosed by
its stockade, - is the Senate House, where the first Senate of the
State of
The Constitution having been adopted
in an evening session of the convention, the public proclamation was
made at
the court house at
Owing to the unsettled condition of the State, then in the throes of the national struggle, the Senate could not obtain a quorum until the 9th of September. It then met in the Old Senate House, as it is now called. The Assembly met in Capt. Bogardus’s inn, where the Constitution had been adopted. At the court house, the Senate and Assembly met the governor; and there the Supreme Court was organized, on Sept. 9, by Chief Justice Jay. In his charge to the grand jury (given in full in Schoonmaker’s History of Kingston) occur these words, among many worthy of memory: -
“The Americans are the first people whom Heaven has favored with an opportunity of deliberating upon and choosing the forms of government under which they should live… You will know no power but such as you will create; no authority unless derived from your grant; no laws, but such as acquire all their obligation from your consent…Let virtue, honor, the love of liberty and of science be and remain the soul of this Constitution, and it will become the source of great and extensive happiness to this and future generations.”
The Legislature continued in
session until Oct. 7, when news arrived of the capture, by the enemy,
of
Many houses now standing were rebuild on the ruins left smoking at the close of that awful day, the 16th of October, 1777. Their massive stone walls and solid beams were not in every case destroyed, though blackened and broken down. Some of these restored dwellings are one-storied, with high-pitched roofs and dormer windows; others, large, square, and dignified as an old burgomaster. The quaint old church, a sketch of which is here given through the courtesy of Mr. Marius Schoonmaker, was laid waste; and only one house within what were then the village limits was spared. That still stands on Wall Street, just as when originally built. It was saved from destruction by the faithfulness of a slave, who hid near at hand until the foe had passed on and then returned to extinguish the fire.
One old lady had a feast prepared in hope of softening by this hospitality the hearts of the British officers, who enjoyed the good cheer and then, alas! Burned the house. When Mrs. Elmendorf, this ancient dame, was told of the burning of her family mansion, one of her slaves exclaimed: “No, Missus, that can’t be, for I have the key in my pocket!”
Through these very precincts rang
the cry (familiar still to the old Kingstonian), “Lope, younge, lope!
Die roode
komme!” (Run, children, run! The redcoats are coming!) This summons
sent the
inhabitants (chiefly women and children, the able-bodied men being in
the
Continental army) fleeing for refuge to “New Dorp,” now Hurley. The
turn in the
road whence was seen the glitter of the British muskets as the little
party
struggled on its way is still shown. And in Old Hurley, three miles
away, stand
solidly the stone houses that opened then for refuge, and that mark
today the
line of the same street that saw the Indian massacre of 1662, when
Hurley and
Wiltwyck (
In the Hasbrouck family record,
which carries its accounts of the Huguenot family back of the date of
the Edict
of Nantes, this quaint mention is made of such an occurrence: “My
dwelling-house
in Kingston took fire by accident in the roof of the house – none know
the
cause of how it took fire, it being the twenty-third day of October in
the year
of our Lord 1776 at three of the clock in the afternoon, being a
violent wind
that very day, it consumed the house in a very short time. Lost most of
my
household furniture, groceries in my store or shop, and all my goods,
linen,
clothes, etc. Books, book-case, clock, and all the goods that were on
the
garret or loft, were all consumed, to a great value. The loss I
sustained that
day, at a modest computation is computed to at least three thousand
pounds. But
thanks be to the great and good God, I and all my family got out of the
house
unhurt, though I was then unable to help myself. I lay in bed lame in
most all
my limbs, so that I could not go or walk as little as a first-born
child, and I
through God’s mercies have saved all my deeds, mortgages, bonds, notes,
books,
most part of my money then by me, except between 40 and 50 pounds then
in my
counter’s drawer was lost and burnt. My neighbor Abraham Van Keuren’s
widow’s
house took fire, also blacksmith’s shop, Abraham Low’s house, barn,
barrack,
Johannis Masten’s house, Petrus Eltinge’s House and barn, where David
Cox then
lived in a small house where John Carmen had his silversmith’s shop,
Jacobus S.
Bruyn’s house and barn all took fire and consumed, and several other
houses in
great danger. The loss was very great on the sufferers. Thank God, no
lives
lost, nor any body hurt. I with my family, with what was saved of my
goods and
bedding got into the house of Mr. Egbert Dumont, and remained there
until
Two other items may be quoted in
this connection:…”May the first and second days in the year of our Lord
Christ
1777 I and my family moved into the house I had bought about eighteen
years ago
of Mr. Robert G. Livingston wherein I now live. I pray God to preserve
me and
all my family and my dwelling-house.” Within six months came the
memorable 16rh
of October, less than a year from the fire recorded above. “Then the
enemy
under the command of General Henry Clinton and General Vaughan came to
Passing through the older part of
North of the DeWall house is the
gambrel-roofed
The whole western extremity of the village is marked by quaint houses, among which are the homes of Beekmans, Hasbroucks, Van Burens, Wynkoops, etc., of past generations. The Tappan house is especially noticeable, standing upon a point formed by the junction of Greene and Crown Streets. Its large, well-lighted rooms and pleasant garden made it in earlier days a delightful family dwelling. Very near it, once its next neighbor, is the long, low stone house where John Vanderlyn, the artist, resided for some years before his death in 1850. This was previously the Van Keuren homestead, and bore its part in the tragedies that threatened the early life of the town.
On the same street stands a
similar dwelling, formerly a watchmaker’s, marked until quite recently
by a
large watch hung from the overhanging stoop-roof. Here the first
Methodists of
Kingston used to gather, to the wonder and astonishment of the village
children, who would crowd around the low windows and peer curiously
within
while services were being held, - services quite different from either
the more
formal mode of worship of the
A stone’s-throw away, on opposite corners, are four old buildings close upon the street. Repairs recently made upon one of theses, owned by Hon. Augustus Schoonmaker, brought to light charred timbers, which told the story of that October day of 1777.
Another of the buildings is old
Just opposite is the home of Gen. Sharpe, who went with the Twentieth as captain, and later enlisted and led to the field a second Ulster County regiment, - the Hundred and Twentieth. In his house, which bears the date of its erection (1828) upon its antique hall mantel, are to be found many relics of the past and many treasures of art.
Many of these ancestral homes
contain carved furniture of rare beauty and value, and exquisite silver
and
china that have come down from generation to generation. Here, in one
instance
at least is china, evidently of Japanese make, which must have been
brought
over by the way of
There are many old portraits, -some by skilled and well-known artists, of Revolutionary heroes; ‘dominies,” whose names and lineaments are familiar to generations far later than their own; stately dames in dainty attire; lawyers in legal robes long discarded by the bar. Most of them are evidently lifelike, and seem following with ghastly eyes the life and customs of their remote descendents. Tall clocks stand erect as a century ago, still faithful in marking lunar changes, still sounding each hour with sedate, silvery stroke. A “Kas,” or wide-shelved wardrobe, in handsome West India wood, fitted together without nail or iron hinge, is usually found in some branch of every family of Holland descent, as are many other articles that would drive bric-a-brac collectors wild with enthusiasm. Among these are andirons of fine brass or massive iron, huge cranes, and Dutch ovens, warming-pans, ancient kitchen utensils in copper and brass, deep, narrow fire buckets, and toys of solid silver, daintily made and of early date.
Bibles bound with dark leather, clasped with brass or silver, contain memorial records of progenitors whose forms have long since crumbled into dust; also, in some cases, of slaves born in those bygone households. During the childhood of the writer, it was not uncommon to be asked to search such records for the convenience of these colored friends, who wanted to know their ages. Some of these names, then too familiar to be noticeable, would now seem odd indeed, such as Mimbo, Gomez, Caesar, Laukie, and Cobe.
The first Sunday school in
We must not fail to notice in our wanderings the Masten house, on the western outskirts of the town, which has its big old stoop still standing, in harmony with its substantial low walls. A similar house, -formerly the Ingraham homestead, - though enlarged, still shows its original shape, and is supposed to have been built by Thomas Chambers, an English colonist, on his manor, soon after the town was settled. It is generally known as Komoxen, the Indian name for the locality; probably derived from ‘komoke,’ a spring. A genuine secret closet (which once concealed a young bride, fleeing from an angry father displeased at her marriage) remained within its massive walls until some alterations unfortunately destroyed it, about thirty years ago.
A short distance beyond Komoxton,
“
Our sketch would indeed be
incomplete should it fail to introduce the reader to some of the
families who
still form the very fiber of “old
To one long familiar with the old residents it is easy to recall many an antiquated form no longer visible. We see once more the old surtout, with its many little capes. Old ladies pass before us arrayed in shoulder-shawls, trim short-waisted gowns, just long enough ot cover the ankles, neat “buskins,” and with “fronts” of dark, unnatural hue covering their soft gray locks. Some of these shadowy presences seem to say, in the odd vocabulary scarcely yet discarded; “Come into the room” (i.e. the parlor, or best room); “Take off, and sit by”’ or, by way of consolation for some accident, “It don’t make” (a literal translation of “Maakt neit”).
Much that was distinctive is passing away. The Dutch accents so common twenty years ago now rarely fall upon the ear. Many changes have come; many must still come. But as we are welcomed into the homesteads of earlier generations we find often, even in the simplest, a refinement that has accumulated through centuries of reverent faith, kindly thought, and mutual sympathy; while in some there is added to this the culture given by literature, travel, and wide social intercourse. Yet there is also perceptible, even among those most in the outside world, a certain simplicity (an unworldliness we might call it) that gives an added grace to the genial warmth of welcome. And so we linger from day to day, or week to week, sharing the hospitable fare (olykoeks and crullers, it may be) spread upon fine old damask woven in the days of our great-grandparents, or sleeping in a canopied four-poster under its homespun linen and flannel.
And when the old letters, full of historic interest, are brought out, as we sit by the blazing fire on a winter evening, we seem to be ourselves of the past, belonging to the remote days when old Kingston was the third place in importance in the State, and when her heart beat with every early throb of our nation’s young life. Without are the youth of the nineteenth century. Strangers in these later days come, take root, and thrive.