The Remarkable Rise of Eliza Jumel

by Margaret A. Oppenheimer

  Eliza would say many years later that her favorite occupation was reading.22 Traces of this interest survive in a handful of books from this period that list her as a subscriber (the publication of books in the early nineteenth century was often funded by collecting subscriptions in advance). She appeared on a long roll of men and women (headed by Thomas Jefferson and John Adams) who subscribed to Donald Fraser’s Compendium of the History of All Nations, which traced the rise and fall of “empires, kingdoms, and states” from the creation of the world to the present.23 If this acquisition was made for her own edification, she may have had Mary in mind when she subscribed to a second Fraser production: The Mental Flower Garden: or, An Instructive and Entertaining Companion for the Fair Sex. This miscellany included “a variety of entertaining and moral Dialogues, partly original, calculated for Misses from Eight to Twelve Years.”24 Together Eliza and Mary could have enjoyed the Mental Flower Garden’s essays, devotional poems, and “interesting sketches of Female Biography.”

  For Sabbath reading, Eliza had her issues of the Churchman’s Magazine, an Episcopal publication designed “to promote the knowledge and the practice of the truths and precepts of Christianity,” and an abridged version of John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, which immortalized heroes and heroines who had died for their faith.25 For Mary, Foxe’s often-gory narratives could have functioned as Plutarch’s Lives did for another young girl: “like a long continued fairy story.”26

  The Jumels’ adopted daughter received the education of an upper-middle-class girl who would not have to earn her own living. In April 1813 Peter Smith was paid sixteen dollars “for Miss Jumels [sic] tuition on the Pianoforte,” and he continued to instruct her through the fall of 1814.27 Mary received painting and drawing lessons, too, in 1814 and early 1815.28 Nor were social skills neglected. In April 1815 Charles Bérault was paid fifty-four dollars for teaching dancing to “Mademoiselle Marie.”29 Eliza may have sat in on the piano lessons; at some point she acquired a modest competence on the keyboard, an accomplishment expected of genteel women.30

  The money for these luxuries came from Stephen’s shipping business, which flourished during the challenging decade leading up to the War of 1812. During the first dozen years of the nineteenth century, his ships navigated the waters of a world at war.

  10

  THE FORTUNES OF WAR

  On May 21, 1804, Stephen’s brig Minerva docked in New York after a sixty-day passage from Bordeaux.1 From her berth on the west side of the Old Slip, a visitor could have marveled at the “busy hum” of commerce pervading this “Tyre of the New World.” Wharves were “crowded with commodities of every description.” “Carts, drays, and wheel-barrows” rattled to and fro. “Hogsheads of sugar, chests of tea, puncheons of rum, and pipes of wine; boxes, cases, packs and packages of all sizes and denominations, were strewed upon the wharfs and landing-places, or upon the docks of the shipping. All was noise and bustle.”2 With her cargo of wine, brandy, dry goods, and oil, the Minerva had arrived at one of the busiest ports on earth.

  The cheerful bustle belied the dangers that the crew had experienced at sea. The Minerva had been boarded three times during her two-month passage: first by a British privateer, then by a French frigate, and finally by a naval schooner, also French, whose crew had commandeered a supply of wine.3 The probability that the vintage would be paid for was nil, but comparatively speaking, the Minerva was lucky. The whaler Hannah and Eliza had to return to port because ten of her crew members had been impressed into the British navy.4

  The Minerva’s thrice-disrupted voyage was the norm. France and Britain were at war almost uninterruptedly between 1793 and 1815, and American shippers and sailors were caught in the middle. England tried to prevent France and its allies from exporting goods or importing necessities. France tried to prevent England from doing the same. Neutral vessels (chiefly American) risked seizure by the British if they carried French merchandise and by the French if they carried British goods.5 Sometimes their crewmen were forced into the British naval service.6

  Stephen navigated these dangerous waters with flair. With his clerk, Benjamin Desobry, whom he took into a minority partnership at the beginning of 1805, he specialized in the trade between New York and Bordeaux.7 Between 1793 and 1815, he sent more bottoms to “the port of the moon” than any other American merchant.8 Even that statistic undercounts his activity, as it excludes shipments he sent in vessels owned by others and cargoes directed to nearby ports—most commonly, San Sebastián, in Spain—when Bordeaux was inaccessible due to British blockades.9

  Outward bound from New York, Stephen’s craft carried foodstuffs and agricultural commodities to Europe. Some of the items came from the United States: cotton and tobacco, beeswax to make candles, and staves for constructing barrels.10 But products from the Caribbean constituted the bulk of his cargoes: coffee, sugar, cocoa, pepper, and dyewoods such as logwood and fustic.11 Once purchased by an American merchant, they became, at least on paper, the property of a neutral, with a fighting chance of reaching Europe without being seized on the way.

  The profits from these commodities, eagerly awaited in Europe, were used to purchase return cargoes of high-end merchandise.12 Stephen imported an extensive array of dry goods, ranging from fabrics (silks, taffetas, linens, and lace) to ready-made items (handkerchiefs, stockings, shoes, and gloves). Elegant accessories arrived as well: satin ribbons, silk shawls, artificial flowers, and silk suspenders; pocketbooks for men and women and silk laces for stays. Vinegar, wines, and spirits (claret and cognac above all) came from the vineyards of his native southwest France. Olive oil (then called sweet oil) arrived in quantity too, along with other specialty foodstuffs from the Mediterranean: almonds, olives, capers, anchovies, and fruits preserved in brandy. As suggested by the inclusion of anchovies and capers—hardly popular with American cooks—most of the goods were designed for reexport.13 The lightly populated United States could not absorb such bounty, which went instead to colonists of European heritage prevented by war from trading directly with their mother countries. This explains the arrival of otherwise puzzling sundries, such as “five trunks’ hats for Spanish monks,” “brown linen for the Spanish and French islands,” and “four thousand strong canvas coffee bags, suitable for the West India plantations.”14 Like the Caribbean goods Stephen shipped to France, these items purchased in Europe would travel as American property, increasing the likelihood that they would reach their destinations.

  In this import-reexport trade, there were huge profits to earn, but equal risks to surmount. The travails of the brig Stephen, which bore the name of her owner, are instructive in this regard. She was seized four times in fewer than five years—on one occasion, by the officials of her own country!

  The Stephen’s troubles began in November 1807. Homeward bound from Bordeaux, she was taken by a privateer and condemned in a British prize court.15 Her captain repurchased her on Stephen’s instructions, to get the cargo (which was exonerated) home to New York.16 “God guide him!” Stephen wrote, as he passed on the glad news of the vessel’s imminent departure from England.17

  The Stephen returned home to an altered political situation. On December 22, 1807, the Jefferson administration had instituted the Embargo Act in retaliation for British impressment of American sailors and British and French interference with neutral commerce.18 The draconic edict, which would bankrupt more than a hundred American merchants, barred U.S. vessels from trading with foreign ports.19

  With her usual destinations off-limits, the Stephen was sent to New Orleans. She carried cheese, flour, butter, lard, and a modest selection of previously imported goods.20 Stephen and his partner wrote optimistically to her captain on the eve of the brig’s departure: “Your voyage being, as we may call it, a coastways one, we are little apprehensive that you should experience anything strange at the hands of any of the belligerent cruisers. Your vessel, cargo & freight are all American property; so we do not suppose any of them would be tempted to lay obstructions
in the way of our territorial navigation.”21 Their confidence was misplaced. The Stephen was seized by a British warship in the Mississippi River delta. A few days later her passengers and crew retook her—at the cost of two English lives.22

  Jefferson’s embargo on all foreign trade was discontinued in March 1809, replaced by a more-circumscribed Non-Intercourse Act directed against the French and British Empires.23 This was lifted in June with respect to Britain but not France, permitting the Stephen to return to the transatlantic trade.24

  August 1809 found her sailing sedately for Liverpool.25 Just after her arrival, “a dreadful gale of wind compelled her to cut both cables and run on shore.”26 The accident necessitated time-consuming repairs. When she returned to New York in March 1810, she was seized by the customs inspector for violating the Non-Intercourse Act, reinstated against Britain just after her departure from the United States. Jumel & Desobry had to appeal to Albert Gallatin, secretary of the treasury, to have the Stephen released.27

  Nor had her troubles ended. After a handful of uneventful voyages, the Stephen was in John Bull’s hands yet again. In January 1811 she was apprehended on a voyage from Liverpool to New Orleans and taken as a prize to British-owned Bermuda. The commander of the corvette that seized her wanted to try the claim from the prior capture she had escaped!28

  The Stephen’s captain, James Berry, wrote dolefully from the island, “this is one of the worst places I ever was in.” He feared that the authorities would “put off the tryall as long as they please,” although it was “well known” in the customs houses at New York and New Orleans “that there was not an article on board either of freight or owner’s property but what property belongd. to citizens of the U.S. at the time of the former Capture and Should they Condemn us it will be very unfair and what ought to be lookd. into by our Government.” Below his signature, Berry added a polite postscript: “Please to excuse the paper as it is the best I can find.”29

  “Very unfair” or not, the brig was condemned.30 Berry must have managed to repurchase her, however, as in July she was sailing from New Orleans to New York. She was detained for three hours by the British sloop of war Atalanta, but—for once—“treated politely.”31 Perhaps her luck had turned.

  The calamitous voyages of the Stephen raise the question of how merchants could make a living in those taxing times. Indeed, many could not—but successful voyages were so profitable that the risks were worth taking. Marine insurance, available for vessels and cargoes, helped to balance out the inevitable losses.32

  Skillful businessmen maximized the probability of success by constantly changing their vessels’ destinations, as dictated by political realities. In spite of Stephen’s preference for the Bordeaux run, over the years he sent cargoes to ports as diverse as Corunna (Spain) and Archangel (Russia).33 He chose accomplished captains, permitted them to trade on their own behalf, and allowed them the leeway to employ their own skill and judgment. Stephen’s wisdom is apparent in a letter to Captain John Skiddy, embarking on the Eliza for Tonningen, in Denmark (today Tonning, in Germany): “As in these stormy times for American commerce, it is impossible to foresee all the occurrences that may happen, we cannot likewise pretend to point out to you the remedy against every one. You have our entire confidence, your own property runs the same chance as ours, you will do for us as you will do for yourself, and we have no doubt that your prudence will direct you to those means of safety which we shall have reason to approve.”34

  Skiddy, Stephen’s most capable captain, kept the ship safe from the perils of the sea. But the journey was rife with frustrations and delays. The brig left port without full insurance, which had turned out to be unexpectedly difficult to obtain.35 The return trip to the United States proved even more troublesome. Skiddy arranged through Jumel & Desobry’s London bankers for insurance at a rate of 15 percent. On the same day, his employers obtained a policy at a 7 percent rate in New York.36 The partners negotiated politely but firmly for months to straighten out the mess caused by the duplicate contracts.

  If anyone could be blamed for the boondoggle, it was Skiddy. He had misjudged the situation when he had purchased the insurance, but it was not an easy call. Stephen understood that even the best men made mistakes, and he turned down the bank’s offer to charge the costs of the error to the captain. He “was certainly intrusted with our confidence and is still worthy of it,” Stephen informed the bankers, Batard, Sampson & Sharp, and “you were of course fully justified in giving faith to what he wrote you; but observe well that he has never mentioned to you that he had our instructions for requesting you to insure our property … We have reason to regret that you have not considered the matter in that way; but to go further and do anything that would in the end fall to his charge, we never had an idea; because we are sure that he has acted for the best, in his opinion.”37

  In truth, Skiddy’s error was aggravating, but Stephen had an unerring sense for the human compromises that successful trade required. Over months of persistent attempts to reach a resolution of the insurance tangle, he and his partner were never less than patient and courteous when addressing “their friends in England.” They even managed a touch of humor over the unfortunate affair. One letter to the bankers opened disarmingly, “We are doomed to experience further troubles respecting the double assurance on the cargo of the ship Eliza, Skiddy.”38

  Stephen was equally adept in his dealings with a network of fellow merchants that stretched from the eastern seaboard to the Baltic. Most of Stephen’s contacts were of French origin, and their shared language and culture knitted powerful bonds.39 His most important business relationship, with a Bordeaux merchant named Jean Pery, lasted some twenty-five years.40 Virtually all of his Bordeaux cargoes passed through Pery’s hands—transactions that in time involved a second generation of the Pery family.41

  Despite Stephen’s imagination and skill, trade with Europe became increasingly unrewarding as the first decade of the nineteenth century closed. The Margaret Tingey and the Sally Tracy, both bound for Bordeaux, were condemned by the British in 1808.42 The Collector sailed for San Sebastián in 1809 and was never heard from again.43 The Prosper, belying her name, was confiscated by the French on entering the port of San Sebastián in 1810.44 The Maria Louisa was wrecked on Gardiner’s Island (near New London, Connecticut) on her return from Bordeaux in 1811.45 The Gold Coiner, afloat notwithstanding the War of 1812, was captured by the English in 1813.46

  Given the paucity of promising opportunities at sea, Stephen employed a portion of his capital elsewhere. He and Desobry purchased stock in a variety of start-up ventures: the Hudson Manufacturing Company, the New Brunswick and Hudson Banks, a projected turnpike in New Jersey, and a planned toll bridge in Hartford.47 Above all Stephen made investments in land. He bought (or in one case, accepted in payment of a debt) two lots in lower Manhattan, 110 Greenwich and 57 Pearl Street; three hundred acres of farmland in Westchester; one thousand acres in Otsego County; and the six-acre property in Bloomingdale.48 Most important for Eliza, in 1810 he acquired a country seat.

  11

  MOUNT STEPHEN

  Seven days a week, the Albany stagecoach clattered and swayed northward from New York City.1 Once the metropolis was left behind, its passengers, crowded onto backless benches, saw little but fields, woods, and the occasional farmhouse.2 Occasionally the coach would draw to one side, giving way to lowing cows or bleating sheep being driven south to the city’s markets.3

  North of the valley of Harlem (125th Street today), the pace slowed as the elevation increased. On the coldest days, steam would rise from the horses’ backs as they strained their way up Harlem Heights. From his seat on the front bench of the coach, the driver would have been the first to spot a prominent local landmark: a stately, white mansion, its imposing portico formed of tall Tuscan columns surmounted by a triangular pediment. Commanding a bluff overlooking the Harlem River, the house, called Mount Morris by its original owners, was vacant except for its ghosts.


  Could it have spoken, it had a story to tell. Built in 1765 as a summer home by a British Army officer, Colonel Roger Morris, and his wife, local heiress Mary Phillipse Morris, the mansion had been commandeered as a military outpost during the American Revolution.4 For thirty-four days, it had served as General George Washington’s headquarters during the battle for New York.5 Subsequently it had housed British and Hessian officers.6

  After the war, the house was seized and sold by a committee on forfeiture as the former property of a Tory.7 Since then it had passed through several hands. Although run briefly as an inn from 1786 to 1787, mainly it had stood vacant or been occupied by farmers who rented the surrounding land.8 The mansion stood in lonely splendor, waiting to recover its former glory.

  In March 1810 Stephen and Eliza purchased 104 acres of the old Morris estate at auction for $9,927.50.9 Their newly acquired lands included a mix of woodlands, meadows, and grasslands for pasturage. The mansion and thirty-six acres of land surrounding it—the “homestead lot”—passed into their possession a month later, for an additional ten thousand dollars.10 In total, their acreage extended some three-quarters of a mile from south to north (approximately between today’s 159th and 174th Streets). On the east it was bordered by the Harlem River and on the west by the Kingsbridge Road (today known as Saint Nicholas Avenue up to 168th Street and as Broadway north of 168th). The strip of property was unbroken except for a narrow horizontal band owned by the Wear family that bisected it a quarter mile north of the mansion. A single plot stretched southwestward from the Kingsbridge Road to the Hudson River (approximately between today’s 172nd and 175th Streets on the east and 171st and 174th Streets on the west). It contained forty acres of farmland.11