The gate leads to another gate, this time it’s a portal through a brick wall. A long time ago, gardens were often walled to denote boundaries and to protect the plants and other things inside from intruders. This wall reminded my husband of the many walled gardens he saw when he lived in Tehran, Iran.

The flowers inside the garden shimmered in the intense summer sunshine.

A cool alcove against one portion of the wall was a welcome respite from the heat. It is also so beautifully done– I loved it!

The garden is immense and is kept up wonderfully.

As we followed the path and drew nearer to the house at the other end, I realized that the house is in great disrepair and is closed to the public. This is the old Pell home, named The Pavilion. It reminds me of a southern plantation house, not something usually seen in rugged Adirondack country.

I did a little research into the Pell family and their quest to restore the ruined fort to its original splendor. You can read my findings on my post A Visit to Fort Ticonderoga Part 2.

Apparently, the Fort Ticonderoga association wants to restore the home and eventually open it to the public. How wonderful! I hope they are able to do so.

We freely walked the grounds, going around to the front of the house. The place oozes history.

According to the plaques and an historical marker nearby, Samuel de Champlain and his Canadian Indian friends battled the Iroquois tribe that had settled here, in 1609.

I peeked inside the windows. Looks like the house is currently used to store extra supplies for the fort. Oh how I would love to meander the rooms! The house does resemble a southern house, with the floor-to-ceiling windows, large shutters and open, airy rooms. I wonder how difficult it was to keep the house warm in the winter.

Further beyond the house is a marvelous view of Lake Champlain. The green hills of Vermont lie beyond.

The house and grounds are so lovely. I love this style of architecture.

The history of the fallen home reflects the history of her builders.

A wealthy importer from New York City, William Ferris Pell, purchased the land and constructed a summer home nearby, naming it The Pavilion. The elegant house still stands but is in terrible disrepair. The home was abandoned by William Ferris Pell after a tragic accident that killed his eldest son. The story is taken from the official Fort Ticonderoga website:

It was customary for the cannon at The Pavilion to be fired in honor of Pell’s return to The Pavilion at the beginning of spring. In 1839, Pell’s eldest son, 35 year-old Archibald, was killed when the cannon exploded while he fired it to honor his father’s return to Ticonderoga. Pell was so devastated by his son’s death that he never returned to The Pavilion and, according to family legend, died from a broken heart the following year.

Later family members held on to the land and decided to restore the ruins of the old fort behind the house. Construction began in 1909. This was one of the first such historic restoration projects in the United States. Its grand opening was attended by President William Howard Taft on the 300th anniversary of the European discovery of Lake Champlain.

This melancholic plaque hangs above the exit gate on the brick wall leading back to Fort Ticonderoga. It was installed by the woman who built the gardens.

The words are difficult for me to construe. My husband and I worked at it until we think we perceived the words:

“Marvel that the great(?) men
Of the earth prefer to reap
The iron harvest of war
To the rich gifts of Ceres.
-Mrs Montagu

It is a telling testament of human nature. Despite the peaceful delights of the garden, men seem to prefer the “iron harvest” of war. Very sobering in such a sober garden and home.

Alexander Hamilton’s final resting place at Trinity Church cemetery, in lower Manhattan.

A segment of the wooden water pipes, at Trinity Church.

New York’s growing, crowded population had choked what little sewer and water supply systems existed. A group of concerned citizens, believing that yellow fever was spread through swampy water, got together and proposed the formation of a water pipe system to bring in fresh water from the Bronx River. Alexander Hamilton chaired the group. Also in the group was Aaron Burr, grandson and son of the illustrious Reverends Jonathan Edwards of Northampton, Massachusetts and Aaron Burr, Sr., president of College of New Jersey in Newark (later to become Princeton College). Burr was serving as an assemblyman for the New York State Legislature at the time. He wrote a charter to form The Manhattan Company, a water utility company, and pushed the bill for the charter through New York government. Buried deep within the charter for the utility company was a section that allowed the water company to divert excess profits to “any activity not inconsistent with the Constitution.” The entire venture seemed so philanthropic, didn’t it? But this water utility charter was not invented to help poor, sickly New Yorkers get fresh water, not exactly. Burr chose the “activity” to be a bank, The Bank of the Manhattan Company– a bank essentially controlled by the “Jeffersonians,” those “anti-Federalists” in the new American government led by Vice President Thomas Jefferson. This move was a political scheme, an underhanded attempt to gain power and squash President Washington’s and Alexander Hamilton’s growing Federalist government. This scenario went far, far deeper than a simple water pipe. It epitomizes the rancor and hate the two parties had for each other.

Alexander Hamilton raged against Burr for such underhandedness. He claimed the bank was created by “intrigue” and the water system was merely a front for the formation of the new bank, a bank created solely as a rival for Manhattan’s first bank, the Bank of New York, and for the Federalists in the national government. And you can probably guess who had founded the Bank of New York and was leader of the Federalist party: Alexander Hamilton.

“I have been present when he [Burr] has contended against Banking Systems with earnestness and with the same arguments that Jefferson would use. Yet he has lately by a trick established a Bank, a perfect monster in its principles; but a very convenient instrument of profit and influence.” “The Papers of Alexander Hamilton,” vol 25, p. 321 (Ed. Syrett & Cooke)

I have very little love for Thomas Jefferson. He is regaled as a great master of the Constitution when in fact he had nothing to do with its formulation and ratification. Worse still, Jefferson was a sneaky man. Historians like to call him “contradictory,” because what Jefferson WROTE about himself and his intentions and what Jefferson actually DID were often two opposing things. He used other men to attack his political opponents (such as sending reports to newspaper editors to attack Hamilton and Washington) while posing as a dedicated member of Washington’s cabinet, and other such underhanded actions. I know I know, my opinions are an assault on the current Jefferson worship that commences to this day. But Jefferson was a sneaky, devious man and he had no problem sending his cronies to get their hands dirty while he looked like a knight in shining armor. Thus entered Aaron Burr.

Jefferson wanted more power and support in New York, and promised Burr a position in the federal government as a reward. Burr was no angel, either. He was one of the rare anti-Federalists (Jeffersonians) in the northern states, and Jefferson encouraged Burr to generate support in the state legislature. Burr was also a master at political maneuvering and campaigning. He essentially created Tammany Hall (a group that wreaked untold corruption in New York’s state government). Later, after killing Alexander Hamilton in the 1804 duel in Weehawken, Burr traveled west and attempted a coup to create his own country with himself as great leader. Burr was placed on trial for treason, but was acquitted for lack of overt evidence. Oddly enough, Jefferson threw all his weight against Burr to no avail. There is evidence that Burr was involved in other seditious plots from foreign governments. Some historians speculate that Burr may have been a patsy in the duel with Hamilton, as Burr received large amounts of money or favors from wealthy tycoons (such as John Jacob Astor) for leases that he didn’t own (see the second source link, below). Many, many people wanted Hamilton out of the way. Once Burr’s usefulness was over, he was essentially thrown out by the Jeffersonians.

Now, I apologize– I do not intend this article to be a slanderous attack on Jefferson and Burr. These points are historically accurate and they do illustrate the motivations of the men involved. Surely, Hamilton and the Federalists were no perfect angels, either. While serving as Secretary of the Treasury, Hamilton was engaged in a disgusting adulterous relationship with an immoral woman, and then blackmailed by her husband. This situation was used against Hamilton later, as he was accused of bilking federal money from the treasury to fund his blackmailer’s purse (a false accusation). Some historians think the woman and her husband were a plant, to bring Hamilton down and bring down the Federalist faction with him. But George Washington remained on Hamilton’s side, and — to her amazing graciousness and honor — so did Hamilton’s longsuffering wife, Eliza. In my opinion, she is the true hero.

So back to the wooden water pipes at Trinity. Such a seemingly unimportant and dull artifact behind that chunk of glass means much more now. The Manhattan Company water pipes were a dismal failure. To save precious money, the pipes were made of wood and not cast iron. The pumps were generated by horses! The water was brackish and residents complained of stomach ailments when the water was available. The only benefit to the pipes was the availability of water in case of fire, as the pipes were only buried four feet deep. Several of the pipes were unearthed recently. Check the sources links at the end of this post to view photos and learn more about the water system and their discovery — it’s absolutely amazing! The entire system, before construction was ceased, probably extended only 25 miles. But the Burr bank lives on.

The Bank of the Manhattan Company continued to do business until it merged in 1955 with Chase National Bank to become Chase Manhattan Bank. Chase Manhattan Bank begins it’s history with The Manhattan Company and its water pipe venture. Chase Bank and the Bank of New York were rivals for over 200 years until 2006. That year, Chase swallowed up the retail banking division of the Bank of New York. The BNY was then swallowed up by Mellon Financial based in Pittsburgh, PA. And here’s more trivia for you:

• The Chase Bank used an image of Oceanus as their bank’s logo, representing the Greek Titan god of water that encircles the world.
• The modern Chase Manhattan Bank logo? It is a stylized representation of those water pipes that started the whole thing.
• The Manhattan Company helped to underwrite and finance the Erie Canal project of 1825. The Erie Canal was the greatest engineering project of its time (and perhaps of all time). The Canal opened up the western United States to commerce and settlement.
• The dueling pistols used by Burr and Hamilton in 1804? They are owned by the Chase Manhattan Bank at 383 Madison Avenue in Manhattan. The pistols are on display in the lobby.

• On a personal note, I was a young student living in Manhattan — 25 yeras ago! — when I opened my very first bank account at Chase Manhattan Bank on 383 Madison Avenue. I remember seeing the pistols in the lobby, and wondering why they were there. Back then, I had no education in history and knew nothing about Hamilton and Burr. How the times have changed.

Sources:
“Alexander Hamilton,” by Ron Chernow, 2005.
Executive Intelligence Resource; “The Case of Alexander Hamilton” by Nancy Spannaus (PDF file)
Alexander Hamilton, Patriot, accessed October 2011
The History of JP Morgan Chase & Company, 2008. (PDF file)
The Foundation Forum: Let an Association Be Formed – Part 2
Columbia University MAAP: Manhattan Company
Archaeology: Excavating Beekman – Area 1
Aquaduct.org: Water Pipes Unearthed

It’s an experience of extremes. The streets are hot and smelly and loud, filled with honking horns and diesel traffic and the deafening noises of subway trains moving below our feet, of millions of feet shuffling over the concrete Manhattan jungle…. but once you spot the iron gate, and climb the ruddy sandstone steps, and cling to the ancient wrought iron rail for balance, and walk up onto an enchantingly emerald hill several feet above the crowded sidewalks, it’s as if you’ve entered the Woods Between the Worlds. It is quiet. A whisper of a cool breeze blows over the stony tombstones and lightly tickles the honeylocust leaves.

Crowds of people mingle here, too. People are ubiquitous in Manhattan, without people there would be no Manhattan. It would be like no grasshoppers in the hot summer Upstate meadows, no mud in the Upstate creeks, no blackflies in the Upstate forests….

…but these people here are different. They are quiet. Maybe the lush green moss carpeting muffles the sounds. But even the chattering children and the businessmen eating lunch while chatting on cellphones seem quiet.

We meandered around the grounds as I described in Part 1. For this post, we venture inside the church.

The bronze doors make a good first impression. Weighty and ornate, they speak of Trinity’s past with a solidity not seen in modern architecture and art.

I’m a “ceiling person.” I look up and am awed. I stop to take photos, not caring if I block the entryway momentarily. Oddly enough, people wait. When I say, “Excuse me,” THEY SMILE. Trinity Church works wonders in Manhattan, indeed!

The church is very dark. My photos are pitifully blurry, I apologize. Plus, my hands would not stop trembling. I can’t figure if it is the heat of the day, the long walk or the joy of returning to the church. Last summer, the day (and the church) was horribly hot and humid. My camera had photographed grotesque clouds of haze and humidity above the altar. This time, the place was deliciously cool. I sat down in a pew– partly from reverence, partly from exhaustion.

Tourists mingle in and out. Some people kneel in the pews, quiet in prayer. Others noisily wander around the vestibule. We are behind a small group of Chinese tourists, chattering in their native tongue. One boy, about the age of 12, restlessly pushes ahead of the group. An alert security guard speaks up, “Take off your hat,” she says to the boy. He stares at her, puzzled. “Take off your hat, please,” she repeats, more forcefully. An older Chinese gentleman, perhaps the boy’s father, removes the boy’s hat. I am impressed. The guards are not here only to keep the candles from thievery, but to enforce respect for the church. Some of the Chinese children run past us, straight up to the altar where the gold glitters on the sacrament table. Another guard pipes up, “Please get down from there.” The boy gives a blank look. Again, one of the adult tourists waves the little boy down. I find the events rather amusing– not in a funny way, but just interesting. The children do not know how to conduct themselves in a church. It’s not limited to foreign children, by any means. I feel a little melancholy when I think about it.

My attention is turned to my daughter, who nudges me and whispers, “This is it. This is where Hammy sat with his family.” Hammy is our little nickname for Alexander Hamilton, our hero. My daughter knows everything there is to know about Hamilton and his wife, Eliza. We sit reverently in the pew #92.

We wander the sanctuary, taking terrible photos because of the poor lighting and my poorer photography skills. The building is so beautiful.

My daughter nudges me again, “There’s a museum down here.”

What?! “Where?!” I whisper incredulously.

“Down here,” she repeats.

I have been to this church twice and never knew there was a hallway that led to a museum. Of course, she’s the expert– she knows the history of this church like the back of her hand. She leads me toward the museum… I’ll have to make a Part 3 for this part of our adventure, as there is much to tell!

Sir William Cosby, loyal subject of the British crown. Served a New York’s royal governor for four long years, from 1732 to 1736. He was born in Ireland, worked his way up into the British military, married a wealthy women with connections to Buckingham Palace. Before his appointment as NY governor by King George II, Cosby made a great name for himself by illegally seizing a Portuguese ship and taking the cargo of snuff for himself.

Andrew Hamilton, Esquire, a Scotsman by birth (1676) and emigrated to the American colonies in 1697. He studied law and settled in Philadelphia. He became the 18th Speaker of the Pennsylvania House of Representatives, serving two terms, one in 1729 to 1732 and a second in 1734 to 1738. Hamilton made the phrase “Philadelphia lawyer” famous, as used in the old proverb “Only a Philadelphia lawyer could have done it!”

The Story

In 1734 before the American colonies became independent states, John Peter Zenger published anonymously-written, highly critical articles about Governor William Cosby. Outraged, Cosby tried to organize a public bonfire of Zenger’s paper, The New York Weekly Journal. When that didn’t work out, Cosby sued Zenger for seditious libel, and Zenger was jailed. Cosby “stacked” the deck in his own favor by appointing a hand-picked court to sentence Zenger and had Zenger’s bail set so high that Zenger couldn’t possibly see the light of day again. When Zenger’s lawyers criticized Governor Cosby’s court appointments and high bail, they were disbarred from practicing law!

Zenger seemed to take the entire fiasco like the typical cocky New Yorker. He publicly apologized to his readers that his paper had skipped a week, as he explained that he was in jail without supplies. The excessive bail prevented him from freedom, and he was forced to dictate his newspaper instructions through a small hole in the jail wall to his hapless wife and servants. Zenger remained in jail for 8 months.

The case got extra-colonial attention, garnering even the intervention of fellow printer, Benjamin Franklin. Franklin realized Zenger would need a new (and brilliant) attorney, so he persuaded young Andrew Hamilton from Philadelphia to take Zenger’s case. Hamilton did on a pro bono basis, receiving no payment for his efforts.

The court case was wrought with as much excitement, corruption, and sensational media attention as modern cases today. During the proceedings, the prevailing judge instructed the New York jurors to resist the slanderous defense that Andrew Hamilton was sure to give, and dole a guilty verdict for the malicious, libelous Zenger.

Hamilton’s defense centered on the fact that while Zenger’s newspaper did indeed publish very critical and harsh statements, the statements were all TRUE and therefore not libelous. Hamilton probably drew from an article that Zenger had published over a year previously regarding libel and freedom of the press. According to the February edition of The New York Weekly Journal, a writer named “Cato” proclaimed that the word “libel”:

…only holds true as to private and personal failings; and it is quite otherwise when the Crimes of Men come to Affect the Publick. Every Crime against the publick, is a great crime…

…The exposing therefore of Publick Wickedness, as it is a Duty which every Man owes to the Truth and his Country, can never be a Libel in the Nature of Things.

…almost all over the Earth, the People for one Injury they do their Governor, receive Ten Thousand from them. Nay, in some Countries it is made Death and Damnation, not to bear all the Oppression and Cruelties, which Men made Wanton by Power inflict upon those that gave it them.”

The trial slogged through the hot summer of Manhattan here at the site of Federal Hall National Memorial. But finally, on August 5, 1735, the jurors reached their decision and submitted the verdict.

NOT GUILTY.

The ramifications of the verdict exploded throughout the colonies, ringing aloud that truth is an absolute defense against libel.

Zenger, like any good newspaperman, later published an account of the trial in his pamphlet A Brief Narrative of the Case and Trial of John Peter Zenger. This case is considered a landmark case that paved the way for the First Amendment right “freedom of the press.”

The Result

Many of America’s founding fathers point to this case and the many printed publications contained within the Weekly Journal as the impetus for the growing sentiment of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness– of a government of the people, by the people, for the people. Morris called Hamilton the “day-star of the American Revolution” and Hamilton was hailed across the country and in England as a defender for the common rights of man.

Andrew Hamilton was honored by New York City for his eloquent and gracious service. The Common Council of New York City gave him the “freedom of the city,” recognition with great honors. A group of New Yorkers gave Hamilton a gold box engraved with Latin phrases from Cicero, translated to say: “For let the laws be never so much overborne by some one individual’s power, let the spirit of freedom be never so intimidated, still sooner or later they assert themselves” and “Acquired not by money but by virtue.”

Fifty-six years later, the United States of America granted liberty by law– freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right of the people to assemble peacefully and our right to petition the government for grievances:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Of course, man is man. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, eh? The First Amendment does not guarantee that government (men in power) will never attempt to silence critics. But the First Amendment gives the people teeth to proclaim these encroaches as unjust and the power to fight back when need be.

Sources:
The Trial Of John Peter Zenger
Peter Zenger and the Freedom of the Press
John Peter Zenger Trial 1735

While the National Women’s Rights Hall of Fame honors various American women, the Women’s Rights National Park honors the women’s rights movement. The movement officially began in 1848, when a large group of 300 women assembled on this corner to petition for equality of women in society and business.

The museum is filled with displays. When you first walk in, you see a group of life-like statues by the information desk. It’s very impressive.

I am not familiar with the ladies, but that looks like the great abolitionist Frederick Douglas in the center.

Most of the displays are either all visual or textual. There were large portions of wall space dedicated to posters of the plight of women before equal rights and after.

I have read various biographies of notable women. One of the best was a biography of Elizabeth Blackwell (I don’t remember the author, as I read it as a child). Elizabeth Blackwell was from England but emigrated to America as a child. She became very concerned about the deplorable conditions of women in society. It was once said that the only three employment positions for women that men encouraged were governess, seamstress and prostitute. Blackwell would visit women in the slums who had been abandoned by drunkard husbands; these women often resorted to prostitution to keep food on the table. Blackwell began a series of social reforms to enable women to work honorably, and she also became a doctor (woman to graduate from medical school!) to help these women.

The museum showed both sides of the spectrum– the poor women trapped in her poverty, and the rich woman trapped in society’s demands. One very interesting display showed the detrimental effects of the corset.

Women died in childbirth all too frequently during the “corset” age. Lord, that’s just terrible.

The museum had dozens upon dozens of displays, most of them very large billboards for reading. We could easily have spent the entire day reading everything. I didn’t have that kind of time, unfortunately, so I read displays and snapped photos of the things that caught my eye.

In 1871, women’s rights activist and friend of Susan B. Anthony, Pauline Kellogg Wright Davis wrote a book about the history of the women’s rights movement. She said that the women’s rights was a direct result of the religious revivals by Charles Finney in Upstate New York. Finney allowed women to pray and preach to mixed-gender groups; he also encouraged women’s social rights and abolition. Some say the revivals of the Second Great Awakening entirely altered American society and government– where a person should LIVE out his Christian faith not just on Sundays but throughout his entire life (the totality of Christ) throughout society by ensuring justice for all.

Black women slaves such as Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth (born as Isabella Baumfree) were very outspoken about slavery and women’s rights. This display on Truth was very haunting. Slavery was bad enough, but if you were also a woman, it was a very bleak life indeed.

The Women’s Rights National Park is free admission. It’s a marvelous place to take children, too. There are few hands-on displays, but the history is just oozing out of the walls. It all makes for a very good history lesson.