Most of the famous structures as well as the popular resorts of old New York are literally wiped out and all together forgotten. Who knows, for instance, or cares, nowadays for the Indian Queen Garden? Yet time was when it was as familiar to a New Yorker as was Niblo’s Garden when it was a garden.
The Indian Queen Garden was on Greenwich street and was the great place for military parades and reviews. The Light Guard and other “crack” corps used to give their public drills here. When the famous French General Moreau visited this city, the military turned out in his honor, and afforded the general an “inspection” at the Indian Queen. On this occasion General Stevens and General Morton acted on Moreau’s staff. Over three thousand people witnessed the inspection, and it was the great event of the time.
“Tyler’s” was another garden near the North river, down town, where the students of old Columbia College used to have their social reunions and play their boyish pranks. The “commencement suppers” of Columbia College were held here. The site of Tyler’s has been occupied, many a year as a soup house and grocery.
There was a famous hotel on Broad Street called “Kent’s.” It was frequented chiefly by lawyers and politicians, and many a memorable discussion with many a memorable man has transpired within its walls, which have long since been torn down.
Then there was the once illustrious “White Hall,” which was regarded by the old New Yorker in much the same light as the Vanderbilt mansions are at this time–the finest house in the city; the architectural pride of the metropolis. It was owned and occupied in its flush times by Colonel John Moore, Merchant and alderman, but it now exists only in the name of a street, Whitehall street.
There was a fine Stone House occupied by Governor Jay at the lower end of Broadway. This has been wiped out. While St. John’s Park, though still nominally in existence, bears no proportion to the importance it once occupied. In the early days of Dr. Francis this park was a perfect botanical garden, laid out and planted by the distinguished artist and traveler, Louis Simond. It was once said of St. John’s Park that it contained a “greater number of varied trees than any other ground of equal size in the world,” yet now it is but a neglected place that no one would look at for a second time, there bein’ no earthly inducement for a second look.
Among the many once famous houses of New York which now look no longer exist are the mansions of Governor George Clinton, near the North river termination of Thirteenth street; Colonel Willitt’s, the hero of Fort Stanwix, cottage near the old Rutgers mansion, at the head of what is now Cherry street; the house once occupied by General Gates, near the foot of Twenty-fourth street and East river; the Beekman House, near Fiftieth street and East river; and the Green House, where Nathan Hale was condemned to death as a spy.
In London, any houses of equal historical importance would have been taken care of and preserved as part of the history of the country. In Philadelphia these and kindred places would have been made show places of; but here in New York they have simply been sold, or altered, or torn down, or forgotten.
One famous show place of New York has passed away, its very name now entirely unfamiliar. I allude to the Elgin Botanical Garden, founded by Dr. Hosack. It embraced over twenty acres, filled with flowers. It was considered the very finest botanic garden in America. As such it was described in books; as such was visited by scientific men from all parts of the world. But to-day I doubt if there a hundred people out of our two millions of population who can tell where the Elgin Botanic Garden once stood, or anythin’ about it.
Dr. Hosack, who was the head man of the Elgin Botanic Garden, had a custom of winding up his course of scientific lectures on botany by givin’ a strawberry festival. The good doctor would always apologize for givin’ the festival; would always try to pretend he was givin’ it on some scientific or medical grounds, such as that strawberries were healthy; that the great Linnaeus had cured his gout and saved his life by takin’ ‘em; or, that the strawberry was quite an important berry, scientifically considered, and all that. But, as a mere matter of fact, those strawberry festivals did not require any apology at all, and soon became by far the most popular portion of Dr. Hosack’s “course in botany.” They really were about the only times that the public in general ever visited the garden, and whatever receipts were taken in by the garden were generally derived from these festivals. So it may essentially be said that, in this instance, science was based upon and supported by strawberries.
Of all the houses with a history in old New York the one most conspicuous in its historically romantic associations was the residence on Richmond Hill, occupied at one time by Aaron Burr.
Its exact location was on the corner of what is now Varick and Vandam streets, and it overlooked the Lispenard meadows, now one of the most thoroughly settled sections of the city.
The house had several occupants before and after Burr. It was built by a man called Mortier, a paymaster in the British army. It really was, in every sense of the term, a gentleman’s residence, surrounded by a park full of shade trees, and in its forests strayed all sorts of game. This bein’ the case it soon became the stalkin’ ground for poachers, precisely as if the scene was laid in the heart of some English shire, instead of what is now the heart of New York.
Afterwards the house and estate passed into the hands of the elder Adams, then Vice-President, who wrote many beautiful letters about the place. It then became the property of Burr before his duel with Hamilton, Burr being then one of the most popular men in New York. Burr gave a good many dinners and suppers here which were attended by some of the most distinguished men of letters who have ever visited this country.
Talleyrand used to be a frequent visitor; Tallyrand admired both Hamilton and Burr, but of the two men he liked the latter the better. Volney also visited her a good deal; in fact, stayed at his place a while. Volney was not only a big traveler, but a big, portly man, and unlike most fat men, a tremendous feeder. He ate anythin’ and everythin’; had the eye of an eagle and the digestion of an ostrich. Before a meal he was one of the finest talkers in creation, but after a meal he was as dull and as torpid as an anaconda.
While Burr lived at Richmond Hill, Hamilton resided at his country seat, the Grange, a place which afterwards passed into the possession of the Ward family. The Grange was about two miles from what is now Manhattanville; stood on high ground and commanded an excellent view of both the North and the East rivers.
Hamilton was very fond of trees and bowers, and one of the prettiest conceits in this line was originated and executed by him at the Grange. There were originally thirteen states in the Union and Hamilton planted a gum tree for each of ‘em; thirteen gum trees in all, each with their characteristic star leaf. These thirteen trees stood in the coppice in front of the main entrance of the Grange and were very much admired. Hamilton saw to the trees personally and seem to have some superstition about ‘em. He attended to ‘em just the very day before his fatal duel with Aaron Burr.
Van Ness was the second of Burr in this memorable duel and was the first one to inform Burr that Hamilton was really fatally wounded. Burr wouldn’t believe it at first and insisted that “the little fellow,” as he called Hamilton, “was only shammin’.” But finding that Van Ness was correct, Burr hastily left the field at Weehawken and came straight to town and Richmond Hill.
A report was originated and was sanctioned by his friends that he had fled from the city to avoid mobbin’. But he had done nothin’ of the sort. On the contrary, he proceeded to make himself very comfortable at Richmond Hill and passed the afternoon subsequent to the duel in takin’ a bath and readin’ a French book.
After Burr gave up Richmond Hill it fell into the possession of John Jacob Astor, and is now as forgotten on its former site as if it never had been built.
[Editor’s notes: The source for the above column was Old New York : Or, Reminiscences of the Past Sixty Years by John Wakefield Francis. New York: W. J. Widdleton, 1866.]
