Days Of Old Dutchess

DAYS OF OLD DUTCHESS

by Louise Tompkins

The war against rents of tenants on farms along the Hudson River was carried on during two centuries of oppression. Rent-burdened settlers fought the British in the belief that when the War of the Revolution was won, the federal system introduced by the first Van Rensselaer patroon would be supplanted by a new republican government. After that, they believed the large estates along the river would be divided into farms for independent and democratic farmers. But the estates were not broken up, and the antirent struggle was a long wax fought by successive generations. Basically, the war was a conflict between two ways of life, the fundamental ideas of both having been brought to the Hudson Valley from the Old World. One was the way of the aristocrat, based on the belief of the superiority of the few. This was Europe's old way of life. The other was the way of the democrat, based on the belief in the dignity and deserving of honest persons.

The people, dreaming of a land where men had equal rights, fought on decade after decade. The landholders, cherishing aristocratic privileges, prevented them from realizing their dreams.

According to Cooper's novel, "Satanstoe," the tenant farmer paid no rent on his farm of 500 acres for the first 10 years, the second 10 years he was required to pay six pence an acre, with the privilege of cutting timber. From that time on as long as the farmer occupied the land he paid six pence sterling for the land and 40 pounds currency ( $100.00) extra for the use of the mill site.

The Hudson River Valley developed rapidly in the first half of the 1700's. The poor Palatines were only one group of immigrants. Englishmen arrived in great numbers and settled along the river. They planted immense fields of flax, corn and wheat on the river acres which yielded abundant crops. The Manor lords increased their holdings enormously. By 1750, in Westchester County, five-sixths of the inhabitants were manor tenants. Similar conditions existed elsewhere in the Hudson Valley.

The road to Quaker Hill was rough and hard to climb in 1754. Even the strongest horse was winded before he reached the top. Not many travelers cared to make the effort to climb the hill. The Quakers residing on the summit liked it like that. They had settled there, hoping to live out their lives in peace, far from the turmoil of the world around them. At the foot of the hill, a Kilkenny Irish Protestant with charming ways and delightful wit, settled on a farm. His name was William Prendergast and he was destined to play an important part in preventing the Road to Freedom from reaching a dead end.

One day William climbed the hill to the tall house on the summit where Jedediah Wing lived. He met Jedediah's lovely daughter Mehitabel and observed her loving care of her 10 sisters and brothers. The Wings were orthodox Quakers.

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Ordinarily they did not approve of marriage with other sects, but William's Irish charm and his obvious devotion to Mehitabel won their hearts and over came their objections. When the young people were married, the Wings came down the hill to their farm more often than they returned to the old home.

William was not as fortunate as the hero of Cooper's novel in regard to his rent. He took his farm from Frederick Philipse in perpetual lease. The manor lord owned thousands of acres near William's farm and tens of thousands more in Westchester County, besides a great manor house overlooking the Hudson at Yonkers. He paid to the British crown each year quitrent of four pounds, twelve shillings for these vast holdings. Then he in turn charged William exactly the same sum for his few acres. He might not will his farm to anyone without Philipse's consent. If, after William's death, Philipse permitted Mehitabel or the sons to keep the farm, they would have to pay "a third of the value of the farm" besides "a portion of their crops, their poultry, their labor."

Hard times came and William's crops failed while at the same time his expenses increased with his growing family. He fell behind with his rent and was soon heavily in debt to the manor lord. He was not alone in his trouble. All around him, his farming neighbors were in the same miserable circumstances. Naturally they were all bitterly unhappy.

William decided to go to Yonkers to see the manor lord himself about this serious situation. He found Philipse "sitting in gross dignity over his manoral court" sentencing tenants behind with their rent to corporal punishment and imprisonment. William's Irish blood boiled at this injustice and he resolved to make the correcting of it his sole purpose in life. His magnetic personality and his earnest desire to correct the unfair rent system inspired confidence in the neighboring farmers. They believed in him and turned to him for advice.

Mehitabel, in the meantime, was expecting her third child and had much time to spend in quiet thought. She had been taught to abhor violence. As much as her Quaker soul revolted against even the thought of war, she must have known an outbreak was near. Yet it came with a suddenness that shocked her.

She heard that sheriffs had pounced on two farmers unable to pay their rent and had taken them to a New York jail from which their friends could not rescue them. She knew instinctively that William would go on the war-path when he heard about the farmers. She was right.

William was furious. He called for an army and, amazingly, more than 800 men rallied around him. With sword drawn, he told them that the landlords had made him a desperate man. He said, "If any officer attempts to take me 'til this dispute is settled, I'll make daylight shine through him!"

He drilled the men, marching them up and down their meadows until they acquired the martial tread of soldiers. "Pay your honest debts,"

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William told his farmer soldiers, "as honest men should — but not a shilling for rent!" After that, he made a sudden raid with some of his men on Justice Peters, whose harsh decisions had thrown many unfortunate tenant farmers in jail for not paying rent.

William gave that cruel magistrate a ducking; dragged him in the mud and beat him with a whip. When that unhappy man protested, saying he was a representative of his Majesty the King, William shouted in a terrible rage that if the king were there he would do the same to him.

Flushed with this victory, William and his men set out for New York to rescue their two comrades from the jail there. The army grew wonderfully as the excited farmers joined the marching throng. The New Yorkers heard of the approaching army and were on the verge of hysteria from fear. The British soldiers on the Island shook in their boots and prepared for the onslaught.

At Cortlandt Manor William declared all rents void, and gained three hundred followers. Arriving outside the city limits, William sent six trusted soldiers on to Fort George at the tip of Manhattan Island where their two comrades were jailed. The men told Sir Henry Moore, Baronet Governor of the province, that their quarrel was only with the landlords over unjust rent charges. They looked carefully at the 30 village grenadiers and other soldiers, then they decided a battle would bring about needless bloodshed. Returning to Wliliam they explained the situation, saying it was better to leave their comrades safely in jail. This sensible leader turned his army about and marched homeward again. As he went he restored all evicted tenants to their farms. The landlords denounced William and his army as "old-time communists" and dubbed them "Levelers". William liked the title, and thereafter called his army the Levelers. He proceeded to carry out his vow to correct the conditions of the tenant farmers.

The landlords demanded that Governor Moore put down this rebellion at once. Therefore, he ordered the Militia to prepare for battle, and offered a "Reward of One Hundred Pounds ( $500.00 )" for the capture of the terrible rebel "William Pendergrass".

Enthusiastically eager for the reward, Alderman Brevington of New York City boasted that he would catch single-handed the terrible Prendergast who was now cowardly running away. The alderman mounted a fast horse and rode for several hours along the Hudson River. He was joined by a genial traveller who proved to be an excellent companion. The alderman grew so fond of him that he confided his plan to capture the terrible rebel, there by winning the 100 Pound reward. At the turn of the road, the companion bade him farewell, and promised not to tell a soul about what he was attempting to do. Riding on alone the alderman soon met an acquaintance and inquired where he might find the terrible leader. "Why, you was just riding with him," replied the countryman. There is no record that the alderman fell from his horse in shock at the revelation, but he probably did.

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Frightened by the success with which William restored ousted tenants to their former farms, the landlords and their New York City Council manded that Governor Moore call in the Militia immediately to settle the matter in their favor. The Governor complied with their wishes and appealed to General Gage for troops. The General ordered the 28th Regiment of Grenadiers commanded by Major Browne to capture William. The regiment was travelling on sloops from Albany to New York when they were ordered to disembark at Poughkeepsie and search for the terrible Prendergast until they found him. Reaching Fredericksburg (now Patterson) the Grenadiers attempted to capture some Levelers in a corn field. The major lost two men and the farmers escaped unscathed. Try as he would the major could not catch William who remained at large among the hills, as great a menace as ever.

Mehitabel with all her Quaker dislike of war and bloodshed, decided that peace would reign again if William would surrender to the mercy of the Governor. So this lovely twenty-eight year old Quaker lady, wea,ring her Quaker dress and bonnet rode out into the hills to find her husband. Somehow she persuaded him to surrender and the two rode side by side into the Major's camp. The humiliated Major marched William to Poughkeepsie as fast as his tired soldiers could travel. The army of farmers followed at a safe distance, vowing they would tear the jail apart stone by stone. The sickening realization came to Mehitabel that instead of releasing William for surrendering as a rebel leader, the Governor was going to put him on trial for high treason. Her Quaker belief blinded her to the fact that the landlords and the Governor had entirely different views of peace. It was incredible to her Quaker mind that the landlords would desire to kill William. Apparently she believed they would be satisfied to have him give up his leadership in the rebellion; then they would allow him to retire to his farm after some slight punishment.

She had badly misjudged her adversaries and when she realized her mistake she worked with an iron determination for her husband's release.

All the lawyers in the province were related to the landlords by ties of blood or marriage and they all favored the landlords. There was no lawyer available to defend William. To make matters worse, the jury was composed entirely of landlords bent on hanging him for high treason. Apparently he was doomed.

Then Mehitabel made a great decision. She herself would defend her husband. No one had ever heard of a woman, especially a Quaker lady, presenting a case in a court of law. It just wasn't done! Mehitabel was not in the least dismayed. She walked into the old Courthouse at Poughkeepsie on August 6, 1766. Beside her walked her heavily guarded husband.

William's faithful followers crowded the courtroom and the street outside. They knew the odds against their beloved leader and they had a, grim angry look. The Honorable David Horsmanden Chief Justice of

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the Supreme Court of the province presided at the trial. The District Attorney of the province charged William with being a captain of rebels and speaker of treason against his royal majesty the King of England. For these crimes he was being tried for high treason.

Mehitabel arose to the defense of William with dignity and unassailable logic. She said William wanted only justice for the farmers; reform for the courts, making possible unprejudiced judiciary. He also desired inviolable land tenure as fair rents were paid, the land treated well and no more cruel evictions by a conspiracy of sheriffs and landlords. "Remove this woman from the courtroom," shouted the irate Attorney General to Chief Justice Horsmanden, "lest she too much influence the jury."

But he had spoken too late. Mehitabel's beauty and charm had already swayed the Chief Justice, who calmly replied, "She does not disturb the court, nor does she speak unseasonably." To this rebuff the Attorney General remarked, "Your lordship, I do not think that she should speak at all, and I fear her very looks may too much influence the jury." The judge silenced him by saying, "For the same reason you had might as well move the prisoner himself be covered with a veil." Mehitabel continued to hold the court room spectators entranced while she presented her husband's case in its most favorable light.

The jury wasn't listening to her at all. Their minds had been made up from the first to find William guilty of high treason. They deliberated very briefly before bringing in a verdict of "guilty". The Chief Justice indignantly ordered them to return to their deliberations and to consider the evidence in the case. They again returned in a few moments with the verdict of "guilty", blasting the hopes of all except the calm Quakeress. The Chief Justice had no further choice except to sentence William "to be hanged by the neck until he was dead." The date of the execution was set for Friday, September 26, 1766.

When William heard this awful verdict he cried out, "God have mercy upon my soul", in such a tone of voice that it "melted his audience to tears."

Mehitabel had already prepared for such a verdict. She had borrowed her sister's best blue striped linen dress, which she put in the saddlebag of a very fast horse. And while her husband was being led away to jail she was galloping madly toward New York City. It was a brave, almost foolhardly thing for a young woman to do in 1766.

The country was new and wild. Mehitabel was beautiful and in grave danger of attack by cruel men as well as by beasts of prey. Undaunted, she galloped down the King's road. The flying hoofs of her horse beat out a refrain of "Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!" as she raced toward New York. Past Fishkill where the dread cowboys lurked. These lawless men left their hiding place in the forest to pounce upon travellers, robbing

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them of their valuables. They also stole herds of cattle being driven to New York City by drovers. Because of these deeds they were called cowboys and this was how the term originated.

Past the waters of the Oscowanna Creek; past Peekskill, Tappan Bay, Ta,rrytown, past the great Philipse Manor House at Yonkers; then the full length of Manhattan Island she rode resolutely until she reached Fort George.

The ordeal of the trial had lasted 24 nerve-wracking hours. Yet Mehitabel set out for New York immediately afterward. She must have halted at the coach stops to change horses as no one horse could have travelled at that furious pace over the 80 miles of rough roads to Fort George.

At the fort she quickly attired herself in her sister's best dress and begged to see Governor Moore without delay. Her request was granted. She walked up and down before the governor pleading her husband's case convincingly. Her appearance was so charming and her voice so appealing that the governor fell under her spell. He was moved to tears, and said, "Your husband shall not suffer." He wrote out a reprieve delaying the execution until such a time as the pleasure of His Majesay George III should be known. Then he allowed Mehitabel to draw up in her own words .the petition for a royal pardon.

Mehitabel knew she must return to Poughkeepsie as rapidly as possible. William's loyal followers might forget their promise not to storm the jail. In that event, he very likely, would be killed by the Militia. Even if he were fortunate enough to escape, he would never receive a pardon from the king. At that very moment in Poughkeepsie the officials were calling for a hang-man. They had become uneasy at the sight of William's angry followers and had decided to get the execution over at once before a riot ensued. Several applied for the gruesome task. While one was being selected, Mehitabel arrived on her panting horse bearing the reprieve. She had not arrived a minute too soon either. This indomitable woman had ridden alone in less than 3 days for 160 miles, and had obtained the reprieve — all this without any rest after the trial ordeal of 24 sleepless hours. Her fatigue must have been incredable but her faith in God and her love of her husband enabled her to accomplish the seemingly impossible. Where in all American history can one find another woman with such courage and determination?

After William's legal difficulties had been straightened out, and he had received a full pardon from the king, he and Mehitabel returned to their happy life on the farm. What happened then? She bore him four more sons and six daughters making a total of thirteen children, all of whom lived to ma,turity. William and Mehitabel never felt comfortable again in Dutchess County after their terrifying experience at Poughkeepsie. In 1805 they

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started out for Tennessee with four sons, five daughters, several sons-inlaw, some grandchildren and a negro slave, 29 persons in all. Their household goods were packed in four covered wagons. The first two wagons were drawn by four horse teams and the last were drawn by three horse teams. Mehitabel brought up in the rear in the barouche. This wagon train wound through the Pennsylvania hills to Wheeling where they bought a flatboat. They drove the wagon train and live stock on to the flat boat and floated gaily to Louisville, Kentucky. From there they went overland to Duck Creek, near Nashville, Tennessee.

The bright hope for a happy life in this new land was soon dimmed. They did not like the climate, or any thing else about the South. Sensibly they turned Northward again travelling along General Paine's Lake Road in Ohio, they finally reached New York State, and then, at the head of Lake Chautauqua they settled on a farm, where they lived happily with two of their daughters. In 1810, a year before he founded Jamestown, their son James brought his wife for a long visit at the farm. The severe cold of that winter and the extreme age of 84 proved too much for William. He died in February of 1811. In 1812, just 46 years to a day of her great ride Mehitabel went to join her husband.

William had led the colonists back to the Road to Freedom. It was a rough, steep road beset by many perils. To travel it had cost many of them their very lives and all their possessions. But the goal at the end of it was worth the costly price paid. William had been a crusader "fighting for a cause every item of which has been enacted into law in England since 1875, and most of which has been won in these states". He was a hero of the farmer's cause and he should never be forgotten. He realized that the colonists could not attain the freedom they desired without a revolution. He owed his life to the kindness of George III who pardoned him after he had been sentenced to death for treason. He did not have the heart to revolt against the king's rule any longer, and returned to private life.

There was a determined group of colonists who were steadfast in their resolve to break away from the king's government and establish one of their own. And they did.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

OLD DUTCHESS FOREVER by H. N. MacCracken HISTORY OF DUTCHESS COUNTY by James Smith (1882) BOOKLETS OF QUAKER HILL SERIES (1902) JOHN WING AND HIS DESCENDANTS (1882)

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