From Historic Houses of New Jersey by W. Jay Mills, 1902
Edited by GET NJ, COPYRIGHT 2002
IN the foundation of his paternal
mansion, which was the first
house in Freehold burned by
the British soldiers on the day
of the battle of Monmouth, Dr.
Thomas Henderson built, shortly
after the Revolution, a large
frame dwelling of a much plainer style of architecture than that of his former home. In
honor of the newly-organized Society of the Cincinnati
he named it Cincinnati Hall, and by that name it became
noted as one of the most hospitable of New Jersey
homes.
Dr. Henderson was very prominent among the men
of old Monmouth. He was a member of the Provincial
Congress, Lieutenant-Colonel of David Forman's company of State militia during the Revolution, and after the
war became a member of the New Jersey Legislature., As
vice-president of the Council, he was acting governor of
the State during Governor Howell's absence from Trenton in quelling the Pennsylvania whiskey insurrection in
1794. Like that of other patriotic and high-minded Jerseymen, his fortune had been exhausted by the inroads
of the Revolution, and his new Cincinnati Hall was
not as elegant as many of the homes of his neighbors, – although his sister, Mrs. Tinney, who lived in a
great house on State Street, off Bowling Green, New
York City, wrote of it to a friend as "both commodious
and genteel."
The Henderson family in Scotland and America was
noted for its piety and deep religious feeling. One of
Dr. Henderson's ancestors was Alexander Henderson,
of catechism fame, who sleeps in the kirk-yard of old
Grey Friars, in Edinburgh, not far from the path where
Sir Walter Scott used to walk with his first love, the
beautiful Miss Stuart. (This Miss Stuart is said to have nearly broken Sir Walter Scott's
heart by refusing his suit. She afterwards married Sir William Forbes,
a wealthy banker.) Dr. Henderson followed in the
footsteps of his illustrious progenitor, and it is written of
him that he was never missed from the Henderson pew,
well up in the front of the quaint Tennent Church, on
Sabbath-days.
In his library at Cincinnati Hall the doctor compiled for his friend Elias Boudinot the interesting
account of the life and trance of the Rev. William
Tennent which created such a sensation when published
in "The Assembly's Missionary Magazine," and brought
about renewed discussion of that famous divine's mysterious journey to the unknown world, which is said
to have occurred in the home of his brother, the Rev.
Gilbert Tennent, then living on Burnet Street, New
Brunswick.
Owing to ignorance and village credulity, the old
Tennent parsonage in Freehold was pointed out
as the house where "Dominie Tennent had his
trance." It was the terror of all the bad children
of the village, who were told when they passed there
that Satan was liable to come out and carry off one of
their toes.
Cincinnati Hall in the old days was the social centre
of the community and the recognized hearth for consociation. Many a lumbering family coach, bearing
some state official and his family, journeyed in the first
part of the past century through Hunterdon County to
Monmouth, and finally took the road to Dr. Henderson's.
Freehold hospitality then was very much like that to be
found in the Southern States before the Civil War. No
traveller of good appearance and address knocked at the
door of the home of any of the first families without
obtaining a cordial welcome from master and mistress,
the cheerful slaves of the household ever ready to enjoy
the excitement of guests.
A Philadelphia gentleman, visiting Freehold eighty
years ago, dwelt with rapture on the charms of the
young ladies. He wrote of them as fine dancers, good
horsewomen, and skilful in all womanly accomplishments. At one of the houses where he rode to spend
the morning with a " Freehold beauty," he found his
fair inamorata sewing little silver spangles in love-knot
designs on a "palampour gown," to be worn at an
assembly that evening. He wrote that the material was
so thin and fine he could have held the length of it in
his closed hand. It is to be regretted that he did not describe the assembly, where the company no doubt
played whist and trump, and Mrs. Freneau, who was
then living in Freehold, sang, as she always did, "Diana's
Lament," or some other sentimental song, and the
beauty in the silvered gown, and the other beauties of
the neighborhood, danced until midnight to the music
of the negro fiddlers.
The old Freehold tavern on the main street was one
of the meeting places for the devotees of fox-hunting
in Monmouth. "Next to fine raiment, a good horse
becomes a gentleman," was a Freehold fetish, and many
of the neighborhood owned blooded horses. When the
green luxuriance of the town grew monotonous, the first
families would journey to the Branch for a breath of the
sea. Long Branch at that time was a miniature hamlet,
with only a few houses. A journey in the twenties from
Freehold to the spot which became so famous during
General Grant's Presidency was then looked upon like
a journey to Bath. It is true there was no Pump Room
to display finery, but there were the admiring eyes of
handsome officers in blue coats and glowing buttons,
and the Jersey maiden packed her boxes with much of
the delight of the earlier Mayfair belle anticipating a
minuet with the peerless Nash.
Dr. Henderson in early life married Rachael Burrowes,
a daughter of John Burrowes, of Middletown, and their
union was blessed with several daughters, all of whom
were Jersey belles. Perhaps the most noted was Eliza,
who married Angus Bruen. Eliza was twenty-one at
the outbreak of the War of 1812, and was still gracing
her father's mansion. She was a very beautiful girl, and of a sunny, vivacious temperament. Old letters
abound with eulogistic tributes to her personality. Her
sister Hope was nearly her age, and they were the life of
the Hall. Their correspondence is full of gay badinage
and feminine raillery. On the occasion of some entertainment at their father's mansion, Hope wrote to her
"sister of the heart:"
Eliza do skip over the floor with the agility of a reindeer and talk
with the eloquence of Cicero, and do not forget the retaliation that the
Pines deserve, speak of the society as you did to sister Anna, and as
much more as you please.
Eliza most likely skipped over the floor that evening,
her face wreathed in smiles and her coy head covered
with hundreds of little Josephine ringlets, which dangled
entrancingly at the gentlemen when she talked politics.
Politics always came before neighborhood gossip in
those days.
|
In a charming letter written to her from her friend and
cousin, Jane C. Green, of Cherry Grove, Maidenhead,
now Lawrenceville, which breathes the spirit of the time,
one can see the great interest Jersey girls of the period
must have taken in the welfare of their country. It
reads:
|
|
Cherry Grove, at Lawrenceville, the home of Jane C. Green, was
erected by Colonel John Dagworthy. Before the Revolution it came into
the possession of the Green family. About the time of the battle of
Trenton, Colonel Dagworthy and his men quartered themselves on George
Green, then its occupant, compelling his household to vacate the mansion.
It is standing to-day with its exterior entirely unchanged, and is a beautiful specimen of a colonial house. Harmony Hall, another Lawrenceville
house connected with the history of the same family, was torn down and
rebuilt in 1813. Under a large willow-tree on its lawn Whitfield
preached to an assemblage of five thousand Jerseymen.
|
|
CHERRY GROVE, Feb. 21, 1813. You say, my dear Elia, that you fear there are causes for my silence
of which you are totally ignorant.
"There are none, dearest girl, in which you are implicated, nor any
that I wish to conceal from you, but they are too numerous to be related
here.
I have been greatly disappointed in not receiving a visit from you
this winter. I looked for you every day during the fine sleighing, and
delayed making visits to many of my friends from the expectation of
having you to accompany me. I entreat you not to let me weary myself
with fruitless watching any longer, but come and gladden the heart, and
enliven the spirits of your Jane.
I suppose you will be pleased to hear that the gloom of the Democratic war is again lightened by a Federal victory. The Constitution,
Commodore Bainbridge, has made prize of the British frigate Java. The
Commodore was wounded, but has recovered. The Java was so much
injured that they were forced to sink her. Her commander died after
the action, of his wounds: He left a wife and two children to mourn
his loss. Commodore B. describes him as a brave officer and an amiable
man. Miss Bainbridge gave me this account, and as she received it from
her brother, who wrote to her by the same express that carried his messages to Washington, I therefore think it must be nearly correct. I
rejoice the more in the success of our Commodore as he has, tho' courageous, been hitherto very unfortunate. My fingers are stiffened with
the cold, I must therefore conclude by assuring you that
I remain,
Yours sincerely,
JANE C. GREEN.
My best love to your mamma and sisters, not forgetting my friend
Eliza.
Again, in April, when the cherry-trees were making
Cherry Grove a place of loveliness, Jane C. Green sent to her friend Eliza and her sisters another of her
chatty letters:
"I have just had one note from you, and I hear there is another following. That is doing very well, and I trust you will not let me suffer
again for the want of letters, as I am less able to endure fiunine now than
ever.
I have nothing new to inform you of – politics is the topic of the
day, and so completely does it occupy the attention of the community,
that I begin to fear that it will not be admissible to introduce any other
subject of conversation. That will be a sad stroke to me, as I generally
keep silent in political discussions. I have read in an old tome that they
were very bad for the complexion, symmetry of feature, sweetness of
expression, etc.
Aunt Churchill was here to-day. Charles Gustavus is getting better.
I have been some time engaged in reading Pope. His poetry is highly
polished, but I think it sometimes appears overstrained. 'Windsor
Forest' and 'The Temple of Fame' I admire exceedingly. His pastorals are sickening. The 'Iliad' and 'Odyssey' I have not seen, and
I anticipate much pleasure in perusing them.
Tell my dear Matilda that I know her Johnny has too much generosity to wish to engross her entirely, but tell him that to preserve this
good opinion of his cousin, he must see that his partner is kind to his
friends. Now, my dear girl, you know that I must be nonsensical
sometimes, and as I keep apartments in the fourth story to-day, you
must make great allowances for exuberances.
Given under my hand and seal this first day.
JANE C. GREEN.
Those days of the War of 1812 were often full
of dreariness for the old-time Jersey girls. The praying for sweethearts and brothers away. The weeks
of doubt and uncertainty, owing to the slowness with
which news travelled. No gay silks and calimancoes
from London delighted their simple hearts then. The "Freehold beauty" most likely gave up sewing silver
spangles on her gauzy gowns. All was gloom and talk
of the latest victory or defeat. No wonder Jane Green,
in her Cherry Grove, longed for her "dearest Eliza"
to gladden her heart and enliven her spirits. Later
the Henderson sleigh was brought forth from the Henderson stable, and " dearest Eliza" departed on the long
journey to Maidenhead, warmly wrapped up in a great
tippet and carrying a huge muff, while her little feet rested
on a foot-warmer, and her mitted hands held a hot stone
to protect them from the winter winds.
It has been said all the Freehold neighborhood
was entertained at Dr. Henderson's, regardless of station.
General Washington, Governor William Paterson, and
Judge Symmes honored it, the first having been a frequent
visitor at the Henderson house burned by the British.
Many of the pieces of furniture which graced the
Hall are still in existence. The well-known Mrs.
Flavel McGee (Miss Julia Randolph), a great-grand-daughter of Dr. Thomas Henderson, numbers several
among her priceless collection of heirlooms, which
includes specimens of Sheraton, Hipplewaite, Chipendale,
and the French periods. On Dr. Henderson's little tea-table, where General Washington was once served cake
and wine, Mrs. McGee has poured tea for almost every
one very distinguished in New Jersey society. Many
retain a pleasing picture of her bending over her antique
silver in the salons of the McGee mansion. Her gown
always a copy of a Romney, a Le Brun, or a Reynolds
portrait, and she herself a beautiful vision in an eighteenth-century environment.
Cincinnati Hall, the abode of hospitality, is rarely
called by that name now. It still retains much of its
old-time appearance, although it long ago passed out
of the possession of the Henderson family and its
happy period of prosperity. The Henderson girls are
often spoken of in Freehold to-day, and the highest compliment a Monmouth octogenarian can pay a modem
belle is to compare her to the doctor's lovely Eliza.
