The New York and Albany Post Road.

by Charles Gilbert Hine.

Foreword.

The Hudson Valley, above all other places in this country, combines historic and romantic interest with the beauties of nature. It is one hundred and fifty miles crowded with the splendors of mountain and forest and river, and replete with incident and legend. To quote George William Curtis: "Its morning and evening reaches are like the lakes of a dream." Everyone who visits New York comes or goes, if possible, by the river route. Few know much of anything, however, about the Old Post Road, that one-time artery of travel and trade, whose dust has been stirred by the moccasin of the Indian and the boot of the soldier; whose echoes are the crack of the stage driver's whip and the whistle of the startled deer; whose bordering hills were named for the wild boar and the wild cat, and along whose edges are still scattered the interesting relics of a past that the pa.s.senger by steamer or rail can never know.

Take it in May or June when all nature is fresh and green, with fleecy clouds above, and below a bank of wild azalea or an apple orchard in bloom. Or try it in the Fall when the woods are as gay as the painted b.u.t.terfly. Each season holds out its own attractions.

Few places can equal the Hudson Valley for the Autumn panorama. The brilliant colors of the deciduous foliage intermingled with the dark of the evergreens rise from the blue of the river to the blue of heaven with every variety of tree and shrub to lend a hand in the illumination. It is red gold and yellow gold, purple and fine linen, and all manner of precious stones when the sun puts a crown of glory on some great tulip or sparkles in the gorgeous maple leaves. The colors are so splendid that even Turner, in all his glory, could not equal one of these.

There is no office at which to buy a ticket for this Post Road route.

It is Shanks' mare, with an independence and freedom that no other mode of travel knows. To be sure, one can also take it on horseback, by bicycle or automobile, according to fancy and finances, and, provided he does not exceed the speed limit, it matters little how he goes. The speed limit naturally differs with the individual. The writer thinks that three miles an hour is fast enough--a pace that enables one to keep his eyes on the picture and does not necessitate a continuous inspection of the road.

Naturally the weather plays its part in such an open air journey, and this is particularly the case if the trip be made on foot. It is the loss of the landscape, blotted out by the mist, rather than the physical discomfort of being caught in a rain squall, that counts. In fact, if one is protected by a light rubber cape, and will take the storm philosophically with a mind to enjoy it and rise superior to the drip on his knees, there is huge satisfaction in being alone with the patter of the rain. But the loss of the landscape is serious in such country as the Post Road deals with. An instance of this comes vividly to mind in connection with the Wiccopee Pa.s.s and the plain south of Fishkill. As I first saw it of a perfect June evening, it was as delicately beautiful as a bit of silver filigree, but another time, in September, the mist hung low on the mountains. It was either raining, or had just stopped, or was about to begin again, and it had been doing that or worse all day and the day before, and that which had been a delight in June was now a matter of so many miles to be disposed of as quickly as possible. There is a local expression in these parts, applied to certain phases of the weather: "As black as a black hat", which one can better appreciate after he has seen the scowl with which an Autumn storm can sweep down these mountains. Good May or June weather and the soft delight of Indian Summer are equally enjoyable, but avoid the Ides of March, or, in other words, the days of the equinoctial.

The amount of baggage is best decided after one has tramped it a bit.

At first the tendency is to take the various little luxuries that are so necessary at home, but after they have been pulling at the shoulders all day long and the unaccustomed strain has developed possibilities in the way of aches undreamed of before, the conviction is gradually forced on the wayfarer that every ounce counts, and next time many of the "necessities" are left behind. A light suit of pajamas, a pair of extra sox and a thin rubber cape are greatly to be desired. A wash rag, nail brush and small piece of soap, tooth brush, comb and shaving outfit, extra eye gla.s.ses, small corkscrew and court plaster--all these can be carried in a "tourist's bag" slung from one shoulder, and these are enough, with a bit of talc.u.m powder and vaseline for chafed spots. Over the other shoulder hang a small, light camera and take the Post Road home with you to dream o'er of Winter nights.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

New York to Albany by the Old Post Road.

In 1703 the Provincial Legislature pa.s.sed a "Publick Highways" act, part of which reads as follows:--

"Publick and Common General Highway to extend from King's Bridge in the County of Westchester through the same County of Westchester, Dutchess County and the County of Albany, of the breadth of four rods, English measurement, at the least, to be, continue and remain forever, the Publick Common General Road and Highway from King's Bridge aforesaid to the ferry at Crawlier over against the city of Albany."

This, being in the reign of Queen Anne, was at first known as the Queen's Road, but in due time became known as the Albany Post Road.

Stages for the north originally started from Cortland Street; later the starting point was moved up to Broadway and Twenty-first Street, and as other means of conveyance improved and multiplied, the point for starting was moved north and further north until finally the railroad was finished through to Albany and the stage coach was a reminiscence of bygone times.

It is "159 m. from N. York" to Albany by the Post Road, as the old mile stones figure it. When they were set up, a hundred years or so ago, New York City was south of the present City Hall, and one can get some idea of the city's growth when he knows that there still exists on Manhattan Island a stone imbedded in a bordering wall along Broadway, and in about its proper place, in the neighborhood of Two Hundred and Fifteenth Street, which reads "12 miles from N. York."

[Sidenote: _KING'S BRIDGE._]

This trip starts with King's Bridge, built by Frederick Philipse in 1693. That bridge--which, like Mark Twain's jackknife, that had had two new handles and six new blades, but was still the same old jackknife--still connects Manhattan Island with the main land, being supported on stone piers that are said to be the original ones used.

There is but one other bridge in the entire trip to Albany that can rival its antique and aged appearance, and that crosses the Roeloff Jansen Kill in Columbia County. Just East of the King's Bridge was the "wading place" of the Indians, and later of the Dutch, where the valiant Anthony Van Corlear met his fate, and, according to Irving, gave the stream its present name.

To one who likes to speculate as to what might have been, had things been different, King's Bridge affords large opportunity for thought.

It seems always to have been a favorite haunt of the human race, its encircling hills and accessibility by water no doubt being responsible for this popularity. Extensive beds of oyster sh.e.l.ls testify to former Indian occupancy, and the Dutch appear to have shown the same preference for this quiet nook, though they finally pitched their tents at the lower end of the island which furnished larger opportunity for trade. If the city had been established here, would we to-day be taking our pleasure jaunts into the country where now is the Battery, and would our antiquarians still be discovering Indian remains in that region?

Bolton's History of Westchester County says that the site of the present village of King's Bridge was that originally selected by the Dutch for their city of New Amsterdam, it being a spot protected from the blasts of Winter by the encircling hills, and it may have been that the swamps of Mosholu Creek gave them pleasurable antic.i.p.ations of d.y.k.es and ditches--a touch of home. They had but to re-name the creek and make it a real Amster Dam.

Spuyten Duyvil Hill toward the west was known to the Indians as Nipnichsen. Here they had a castle or stockade to protect them against the Sauk-hi-can-ni, the "fire workers", who dwelt on the western sh.o.r.e of the great river Mohican-i-tuck, and from which later came that delectable fire-water known as "Jersey lightning," against which no red man is ever known to have raised a hand. In later days three small American redoubts, known as forts Nos. 1, 2 and 3, crowned this same hill. One of these is now doing duty as the cellar walls of a dwelling. On the rise of ground to the east known as Tetard's Height, was Fort Independence, or No. 4. This series of eight small forts, which covered the upper end of Manhattan Island from the heights of the adjoining mainland, seem to have been more ornamental than useful, as they fell into British hands with little or no fighting. No. 8 overlooked Laurel Hill, on which stood Fort George.

In the early days King's Bridge appears to have been the only connecting link with the mainland, for not only did travelers for the north go this way, but it seems that those for the east also availed themselves of this approach to the mainland, as Madam Knight, on her journey from New Haven to New York, in 1704, speaks of coming to "Spiting Devil, else King's Bridge, where they pay three pence for pa.s.sing over with a horse, which the man that keeps the gate set up at the end of the bridge receives."

The "Neutral Ground" came down to this point, and during the Revolution it was the borderland over which the raids of both belligerents swept. Congress, recognizing its importance, ordered in May, 1775, "That a post be immediately taken and fortified at or near King's Bridge, and that the ground be chosen with a particular view to prevent the communication between the City of New York and the country from being interrupted by land."

Here in January, 1777, Major-General Heath attacked a body of Hessians under Knyphausen and drove them within their works, but the Americans were in turn driven off, and again in 1781, in order to afford the French officers a view of the British outposts, the American Army moved down to King's Bridge when the usual skirmish followed--in fact, it was a storm centre so long as the British occupied New York.

The Macomb mansion, a fine house even to-day, once the home of Major-General Alexander Macomb, the "hero of Plattsburg," still overlooks the waters of Spuyten Duyvil Creek. Originally a tavern, it was purchased about 1800 by Alexander Macomb whose son, Robert, was ruined by the destruction of Macomb's Dam, which went down before the embattled farmers, with whom it interfered. The Macomb family was a band of st.u.r.dy fighters, all of the five sons taking an active part in the militia or the regular army, but the reputation of the family rests princ.i.p.ally on the glorious deeds of Alexander in the war of 1812.

[Sidenote: _THE VALE OF YONKERS._]

The Post Road, known in these days as Broadway, follows the eastern edge of the Mosholu swamp to Van Cortlandt Park, through what is called the Vale of Yonkers. Here is Vault Hill, one of the points selected by Washington on which to make a display for the benefit of the British while he quietly led his main army south for the operations against Cornwallis. On a clear day the hill is in plain view from Manhattan Island, and the camp fires and general indications of activity on its summit helped materially in the scheme to deceive the enemy. The hill has its name from the fact that it was used as a burial ground by the early generations of the Van Cortlandt family.

The property was sold in 1699 by Hon. Frederick Philipse to his son-in-law, Jacobus Van Cortlandt (a brother of Stepha.n.u.s Van Cortlandt of Cortlandt), and the mansion was erected by Frederick Van Cortlandt in 1748. Northeast of it is situated Indian Field, memorable as the scene of an engagement between the British and the Stockbridge Indians, resulting in the practical annihilation of the latter.

[Sidenote: _YONKERS._]

The road shortly becomes a village street and so continues into Yonkers. In 1646 the Indian sachem Tacharew granted the land to Adrian Von der Donck, the first lawyer of New Netherland. The Indians called it Nap-pe-cha-mack, the "rapid water settlement," the "settlement"

being located about the mouth of the stream now known as Sawmill River. The Dutch called their settlement Younkers, Younckers, Jonkers or Yonkers, derived from Jonkheer, a common name for the male heir of a Dutch family.

The old Philipse manor house, now Yonkers's City Hall, was erected about 1682, the present front being added in 1745. In its palmy days it is said to have sheltered a retinue of thirty white and twenty colored servants. Here was born Mary Philipse, July 3, 1730, the heroine of Cooper's "Spy," and the girl who is said to have refused Washington. In January, 1758, she married Col. Roger Morris. Tradition tells how, amid the splendors of the wedding feast, a tall Indian, wrapped in his scarlet blanket, suddenly appeared in the doorway and solemnly predicted that the family possessions should pa.s.s from its control "When the eagle shall despoil the lion of his mane." The mystery was explained later when the property was confiscated because of the royalist leanings of the family.

The site of Pomona Hall, burned some twenty years ago, where Burr took refuge for a time after the Hamilton duel, is now occupied by a modern public school. It bordered the Post Road toward the northern edge of the village, commanding a fine view of the Hudson.

Just inside the northern township line of Yonkers, in the river's edge, lies the Great Stone, Macka.s.sin, of the Indians, the "copper-colored stone," an enchanted rock which was an object of veneration, and on whose flat surface the aborigines probably held sacred feasts. Originally it stood out in the water, but the railway embankment has changed all this, and now it is overshadowed by great advertising boards which the pale-face provides for his traveling brother to feast his eyes upon.

For some miles, practically as far as the Croton River, the way is lined with the fine estates of the wealthy, some made notable by reason of their owners, as Greystone, the former home of Samuel J.

Tilden. It is no uncommon thing to have some particularly fine lawn pointed out as the most perfect in the country. If what the local patriots say is true, there is at least one such in every village hereabouts.

This region is a bit too thickly settled for the pedestrian who, with his knapsack slung over his shoulder, receives more attention from nurse maids and children than is sometimes comfortable, but it is easily possible to send one's impedimenta on by rail if the night's stopping place can be figured out in advance, and he can then progress without fear of gibe or jeer.

[Sidenote: _GREENBURGH._]

Greenburgh, "Graintown" bounds Yonkers on the north. Here, the present site of Dobbs Ferry, was the Indian town of Weck-quas-keck, "the place of the bark kettle." It was the unprovoked murder of an Indian here and its subsequent revenge that led to the ma.s.sacre of the Indians in Jersey and the following Indian war which brought the Dutch almost to the last extremity.

[Sidenote: _HASTINGS._]

Hastings, the first town beyond Yonkers, covers the old Post Estate.

In early times the inhabitants seem to have developed a rather unenviable reputation as sports, c.o.c.k fights and horse racing being mentioned as the princ.i.p.al amus.e.m.e.nts. Here, in 1776, a troop of Sheldon's Horse ambuscaded a body of Hessians, only one of whom escaped. Peter Post, who appears to have helped lead the enemy to destruction, was later caught by them and beaten, being left for dead.

As the traveler enters Hastings he pa.s.ses the former residence of Dr.

Henry Draper. The old observatory, built in 1870, still stands, though damaged by a recent fire. Here Dr. Draper made the first photographs ever taken of the moon. The name of Draper should be revered by every amateur photographer. The father of Henry, Dr. John William, was a friend of Daguerre, and it is said that in this building was developed the first portrait negative. The dwelling is beautifully situated on the high river bluff and affords a wonderful view up and down the watery highway.

Close on the road stands an old forge or smithy where Washington's officers were in the habit of having their horses shod when in the neighborhood. The place also boasts a "Washington Spring," but its chiefest natural glory is a great walnut tree which tradition says was, away back in the Indian days, a Council Tree of the Weckquaskecks. In one of the Draper cottages once lived Admiral Farragut, whose wife used the first prize money he received to purchase some needed article for the local church. There are few places that hold so many and varied interests for the pilgrim as the old Draper homestead, and none whose hostess could be more gracious to the stranger.

[Sidenote: _DOBBS FERRY._]

The road winds along the sides of the hills, sometimes fifty, sometimes one hundred and fifty feet above the water, and many are the beautiful vistas through the trees and across the well-kept lawns. By this time the solid wall of the Palisades is beginning to break and the outline of the Jersey hills becomes more varied. But we are just now interested nearer home, for as one approaches Dobbs Ferry he steps on almost holy ground. Here is the Livingston house, where, after the fighting was all over, Washington and Governor Clinton met the British commander, General Sir Guy Carlton, to make the final arrangements for peace; here the papers were signed which permitted of the disbanding of the American Army, and in which the British gave up all claim upon the allegiance and control of the country.

So far back as 1698 a Dob was located here. On account of the ferry the place was an important one during the Revolution and many interesting incidents happened in the neighborhood. It was here that Arnold and Andre planned to hold their first meeting, but accident prevented their coming together; and it was here that Sir Henry Clinton's representative met General Greene, October, 1780, in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent the execution of Andre. In July, 1781, the American and French armies were encamped on the hills round about while preparations were being pushed as though for an attack on New York, pioneers being sent forward to clear the roads toward King's Bridge. Even the American army was wholly unaware of Washington's intention to strike Cornwallis, and the British were so completely deceived that the American troops reached the Delaware before Clinton awoke to the situation.