New York State History

While the Van Bergens selected as their share the rich lands of Coxsackie flats, at least one of them built in old Cats-kill: Martin Gerrit Van Bergen, whose house stood just off the main street until recent years. That all the world might know who and when, the builder cut his initials and date of erection in the east wall of his dwelling: "M. G. V. B., 1729, July 4."

And now we come to the most prominent figure of the Revolutionary period in the Catskill region, Dominie Johannes Schuneman, the name about which more legends and stories have clustered than about all the other inhabitants of Greene County combined. The parsonage made famous by the good man is gone, as is the church building from whose pulpit were thundered weekly anathemas against the Tories and all other enemies of the country, as well as of the Lord.

His parents came over about 1710 with the Palatines. Just how this son of a staunch Lutheran became a Calvinist is not recorded, but so it came about, and, believing that he was called of God, he studied for the ministry, spending a year of his preparation in Amsterdam, from which he returned to take charge of the church in Catskill, shortly thereafter marrying the youngest daughter of the rich Martin Van Bergen-he forty-six, she twenty-six years of age-and it was the father-in-law who built the parsonage, which for so many years was a refuge for the weary and heavy laden-1754-1793.

That the dominie was no sentimentalist is amply proven by the following entry in his diary: "Attended the funeral of Johannes Diedrich at the Kauterskill; also sold my lame mare." His "studeer-kamer" as the Dutch called the pastor's study, was a resort for all those needing help or advice. It was here those wonderful sermons were written which caused the good people to sit up and take notice. But all these precious manuscripts, so the story goes, were used by negro servants to light the fires in his son's tavern and for the cleaning of the pots and pans.

For many years the dominie's circuit included both Catskill and Coxsackie, twelve miles north, while it frequently included Katsbaan, ten miles south. In both directions the road passed through dense woods, and his gun was always with him on these expeditions; in fact he must have had the appearance, at least, of belonging to the church militant, being intensely hated by the Tories because of his strong condemnation of their attitude. His rifle never left his side during the days of the Revolution, it even going into the pulpit with him, and as he was a dead shot and his enemies were acquainted with his proficiency he was seldom or never molested.

Mr. James Wolley, who came over in 1678, says: "As to the Dutch language, in which I was but a smatterer, I think it lofty, majestic and emphatical", and we read of our good dominie that "His voice was one of great power and compass. His distinct and impressive tones, his natural and vigorous gesticulation and the magnificent fervent kindliness of his spirit conspired with the eminently evangelical character of his discourses to render his preaching effective". When such a man handled such a language was it any wonder that things happened.

The same writer, Rev. Dr. Henry Ostrander, says further: "The Revolutionary troubles called into full exercise Dominie Schuneman's intense patriotism, in connection with his heroic and self-sacrificing spirit. The district of country in which he lived was the theatre of great commotion and horrid cruelty. He well knew that he was looked upon by the enemy as a prize of more than ordinary value; but nothing daunted by this he never withheld any good service in aid of his country's interests which it was in his power to render."

The dominie had a great reputation for talking to the point whenever he had anything on his mind, as for instance: The way in which the brethren neglected attendance on the weekly prayer meeting worried him until he finally, one Sunday morning, made the following announcement: "On Saturday afternoon the horses will run on the flats. I will be there, and also at the Wednesday evening prayer meeting. I will then see which most of my congregation attend." It is said that the next race day was not a brilliant success so far as attendance went.

The congregation would occasionally get a little tired of being so reminded of its shortcomings, and, after a series of particularly hard shake-downs, those whose shortcomings had received such warm personal attention appointed a committee of one to express their feelings on the subject. The dominie listened patiently, and promised to make it all right next Sunday. The day proved to be warm, and this son of thunder removed his coat before proceeding. Then stretching his powerful frame to its full height he opened his mouth and announced with a roar: "Well, friends, now you will get it", and proceeded to give them a sermon, as compared with which those that had gone before paled into insignificance, winding up his peroration with: "Now, friends, you have got it." The committee went out of business then and there.

I had the following legend from Mrs. Newkirk, formerly Elsie Salisbury, who is eighty-seven years old, blind and confined to her chair, but who still loves a merry tale; the story was current in her youth: On one occasion when the dominie was proceeding on horseback to Coxsackie he glanced behind to discover a great black dog attached to his horse's tail. His rifle was, of course, his companion on this occasion, as at all times, but for such attacks as this the good man was armed with a better weapon than ever carried powder and ball, for, looking the ferocious beast in the face for a full minute he thundered out: "If you are from the Lord remain where you are; if from the devil, begone!" and instantly the beast vanished into thin air. Those were rough days, when the traveller must be prepared to meet the devil himself as well as his minions, the Indians and wildcats.

It seems to me that one of the loudest notes in praise of Dominie Schuneman is the absolute silence of the "Ecclesiastical Records of the State of New York" in regard to him. It is quite evident that he was not controversial as to points of doctrine. So far as I can find his name is not once mentioned in the volumes covering the years of his reign.

The death of Martin Van Bergen left the dominie a rich man, and about the time he retired from active service he built a house on that portion of his estate which lay near the Vosen Kill in what is now known as Jefferson, the house facing on the King's Highway, as it is still called. Here he died in 1794, and in a field across the road were he and his wife buried.

All this time we have been in sight of the mountains, and while looking at them it is of passing interest to note the following coincidence: In "A Prospective View of the Battle Fought Near Lake George", 8th of September, 1755, a map of the Hudson River gives our Catskill Mountains as Coats Kill Mountains. One of the popular governors of the province was Richard Coote, Earl of Bellomont, who died in New York in 1700. There is not much difference between Coat and Coote, particularly when we recall the free and easy ways of spelling in those times, when even brothers signing the same document spelled the family name differently. The writer has gone no deeper into this subject and has asked no questions of those learned in such matters, and gives the coincidence without assuming any responsibility for conclusions that may be drawn therefrom.

From the high bluff at Jefferson, just before the road descends the hill into Catskill, one gets the view made famous by Thomas Cole in his painting entitled "Youth", the second in "The Voyage of Life" series. Down in the vale beneath winds the creek while a beautiful rolling country leads up to the mountains. It is a view to give the stranger pause, even if he is not acquainted with its interesting history. Another painting by Thomas Cole of this same scene hangs in the Metropolitan Museum, New York.

The house of Thomas Cole stands on an eminence that enables it to overlook all the country toward the west, with the mountains bordering the further edge of the horizon. It is now occupied by a son of the artist, Theodore A., who is a typical old-time gentleman. He kindly showed the room in which are hung a number of his father's paintings and gave the traveller the freedom of the place. To be sure this may have been due largely to the fact that I was introduced by Mr. Franklin Salisbury, but it was all done so graciously as to make one feel at home without giving the matter thought.

The building is something over one hundred years old, is very attractive, with a high veranda whose slender pillars add much to the charm. The whole is painted white and buff and, surrounded by billows of flowers and vines, has a light, graceful effect quite unusual for the date of its birth, when the people built for solidity rather than grace. The camera caught a
glimpse of the house through the foliage, with tali hollyhocks on the one hand and a low bunch of flaming crimson on the other; it was a leaf out of an old fashioned garden scene which the camera was wholly unable to duplicate. The old studio, now a woodshed and tool house, is picturesque without an effort.

The local people have such a kindly feeling toward the name of Cole that when misfortune overtook the house certain of the neighbors purchased the place and presented it to the daughters of the family.

We have come down from Leeds, through Jefferson to Cats-kill, and now we are going back the same way as we cross the Leeds bridge before starting south on the old road to Kauters-kill. There is much to be seen in and around Jefferson, but before starting back the writer feels like saying what he thinks of a place that has wasted such opportunities as has Catskill.

Thanks to its short-sighted policy Catskill is merely a place to sleep if one must stop at all. It seems never to have dawned on any one that the preservation of its historic homes and their proper exploitation could have a cash significance, and so, one by one, those buildings which linked the present-day village to the past have been demolished to make way for factory or brickyard, until to-day the place holds too little to attract the traveller, who, instead of stopping for a day or more, now goes by with his eyes toward the mountains, and no thought or knowledge of the old Stone Jug and the interesting Madam Jane Dies with her eccentric John, of whose prudence his father-in-law had no opinion, or the other worthies who lived
so long ago that time has thrown a glamor over their doings that makes one listen to the end of the tale. Possibly Catskill cares naught for the tourist or his money: then she has gone about it just right.

The following scraps are the result of an interview with Henry O. Limbrick of Catskill, who is probably the last of the old-time stage drivers left in these parts. The material is given practically as it came from the old man's lips:-

"Remember an old man, Thompson, who carried the mail to Cairo three times a week. John Stoutenberg, myself, Tarbox and two brothers drove post, four horse coaches for Beache's Pine Orchard House, now Beache's Mountain House. Was in Jefferson Marrifield's tavern when Teunis Van Vechten blew his arm off on 4th of July.

"Drove from Kentucky via Buffalo, came to Catskill Landing, at that time only a small island, called Wana-tonka. Mr. Ira I. Day built the long dock connecting the island with the main shore.

"The cattle from west were killed for New York market at Troy and Catskill and shipped on sloops and schooners at that time. Remember a few Indians who were left here. A man, a teamster, used to team it from Ithaca to Catskill, requiring three weeks for the trip. He said some young fellow from New Jersey came to Catskill and married a squaw; took her home and his folks misused her. She came back with her child, and the tribe over on the hill (west side) would not receive her, so in despair went over to the brink of the hill and threw herself and child from the top; as she went over called out in English, 'Me hop-o-nose'.

"Garrett Person (Pairsie in Dutch) carried on fishing. Used to sell one thousand shad for sixpence. Dutch used to despise the Yankees, who came from Massachusetts, and thought they had no business to come across the river to settle. They could not bear their red hair and would not have their money in bank, nor the young folks keep company with their young people.

"Lafayette I saw go through Catskill. Everything was decorated. The Catskill wooden bridge was a curiosity, built in 1801, and people came from all parts along the river to see it, it was so great a sight. The road from river passed along by the Old Stone Jug, then on to the Abeel House (now where armory stands). Then on passing the old Bogardus House back from Smith's Hotel, then on to Meiggs House, then on as now. All dissensions or quarrels were settled in families at the supper tables. Appollos Cooke's house was built for a hotel. Botsford's was the most noted hotel in Catskill in earlier years (and later in the forties). William Salisbury kept the 'Bull's Head' Hotel at foot of Jefferson Hill, formerly kept by a man Gleason, who used to have a beautiful garden on the island (now nearly all rocks), and where the concrete bridge is now, 1906, crossing. Shoemakers in my boyhood used to go from house to house making and repairing boots and shoes. Those were the days boys were bound out until they were twenty-one years of age. The old Dutch people would not take a note from a neighbor; they said if his word was good for nothing his note was. Used to buy the negroes from one another and they were good to them.

"General training took place once a year at Catskill. Tobias Wynkoop commanded and was appointed by Washington justice of the peace. Said in the olden days he used to drive four-horse stage, passengers and mail from Albany to Catskill, Catskill to Esopus, from Esopus back from the river on a road to Newburgh; from Newburgh road went to Turners (now on Erie road). It was stage route in my time from Albany to Catskill, from Catskill to Esopus, from Esopus back from river to Turners, from there to Nyack. Below that I do not know, as I only know from the old post road at Turners north to Albany."