The near approach of the great centennial celebration of Evacuation Day in New York naturally brings to the front many persons, events and places now almost forgotten by New Yorkers.
Years ago on the old Kingsbridge road there stood an old stone house which was one of the interestin’ relics of old New York. I have stopped at it now and then in my drives. It was close by the turn of the road that leads to the Bennett Place on Washington Heights. It was known for nearly a hundred and fifty years as the Blue Bell Tavern.
It wasn’t much of a place to look at, still it was substantial, and gave one an idea of “solid comfort.” Probably it had been originally a first-class farmhouse of its time, and had then taken to “keepin’ boarders.”
For several generations it was kept as an inn by a Dutchman called Vandeventer and his descendants. Under the Vandeventers it became quite noted for its well -ooked meals and good tap.
Such a place as this was, of course, full of memories, and some of ‘em were quite interestin’. In any other country or city there would have been books, or stories, or poems written on this old tavern, and it would be a kind of show place. Philadelphia, for instance, would have made by this time “a public buildin’” out of it. But hardly one New Yorker in a thousand knows anything of the romance that hangs around the old Blue Bell. Nobody even knows why it was ever called the Blue Bell. I don’t. Perhaps some reader better posted than I am will inform me sometime on this point.
At any rate, the good old Huguenots who came over here and settled in New Rochelle, and all about there, used to stop at the Blue Bell on Sunday on their way to and from the old French church in New York. It was quite a journey from New Rochelle to New York, but the Huguenots made it a matter of principle to make it every Sunday, takin’ in the old tavern as a sort of half-way house–to stop and water their horses at and get some refreshment for ‘emselves.
But a good many of the poorer Huguenots had no horses; still they attended church all the same, walkin’ all the way and back. The people found a little rest and refreshment at the Blue Bell particularly grateful.
The story goes that one pretty little mother carried her baby all the way in her arms from New Rochelle to New York and back (she havin’ no servant, and the baby’s father bein’ dead), to get the child baptized. And then the mother was taken sick with fatigue on the way back, but was kindly nursed by the womenfolks at the Blue Bell, who took care of her and her baby for a week free of charge.
A generation later there was a sensational suicide at the Blue Bell.
A governor of the province was found hangin’ on the limb of the tree in the back garden. He had had his supper at the Blue Bell that night, and then, durin’ the night, must have got up and hung himself. At any rate, there the governor was found swingin’ in the early mornin’, stone dead. It seems that he was of a nervous sort of a temperament, and found the duties of his office too much for him. Ten to one too he had the dyspepsia, for I find that it is the stomach that is generally and principally concerned in cases of suicide. Then he had lost his wife, too. But then, perhaps, that was a trifle.
Still later on there was a rather romantic weddin’ at the old Blue Bell, which was then kept by the original Vandeventer’s son or grandson, who had a very pretty sister. A good lookin’ Hessian officer stopped at the Blue Bell a while and seein’ the pretty sister fell desperately in love, after the good old fashion. The pretty girl returned the compliment, but somehow the brother, who kept the tavern, conceived a dislike to the young Hessian and forbade his sister to have anythin’ to do with him. But love was more than law, and besides the maternal Vandeventer was on the lover’s side. The girl’s mother was almost as fond of the young Hessian as the girl herself, and the still buxom and jolly widow vowed that if her daughter did not marry him soon she would. So to keep her mother from keepin’ her vow, the young girl married the handsome Hessian. The old lady fixed matters so that the weddin’ took place in the tavern itself right under Vandeventer’s roof, without the male Vandeventer knowin’ anythin’ about it till afterwards. The handsome Hessian’s commanding officer Colonel Ralle, of Kuyphansen’s army, had been through the mill himself and had a fellow feelin’ for his soldier, so the colonel came and took the best room at the Blue Bell and then sent for the chaplain and then on one excuse or another sent for the two lovers, one after the other, and then when all parties and the bride’s mother were all in the room at once, the chaplain came to the front and married the two in a jiffy.
The young husband not only fell in love with his wife, but with his wife’s country, settled down in America and raised a big family, several of whom are livin’ in Morristown, New Jersey, to-day.
And it was at this old Blue Bell Tavern of many memories that General Washington and Governor Clinton paused and rested awhile on their way to New York to once more occupy with the American Continental Army the city which the British troops evacuated.
[Editor’s notes: The source for this column was a more complete article, “The Blue Bell Tavern,” Appleton’s Journal, Dec 13 1873. More recently, the Bowery Boys [the spiritual inheritors of Harry Hill’s Gotham columns] podcast site has an excellent article on the Blue Bell Tavern.]
