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Historic Houses
From Historic Houses of New Jersey by W. Jay Mills, 1902
SURROUNDED by the blue Bernard hills, near the present hamlet
of Stirling, was an old mansion
famous in history for having been
the country residence of the
American peer, William Alexander, better known as Lord
Stirling. A portion of it is still in existence, embedded in a modern dwelling. It was
erected in the year 1761 by this gentleman, who stands
forth in his period like some brilliant figure in romance.
Born to all the advantages of wealth and high position,
he rode through life on the triumphal car of hereditary
greatness. Fortunately, he had nobility of soul as well
as of name, and his arrogance and pomposity, maligned
and ridiculed by the society of his time, is easily overshadowed at this late day by the many great services he
rendered his country.
In 1761 Lord Stirling had just returned from abroad.
While in England he had pushed his claim to the Earldom of Stirling, which had been held in abeyance for
a number of years. All his efforts proved unsuccessful.
But the final decree of the House of Lords did not
dampen his spirits to any great degree, if we can judge
by the manner in which he journeyed home.* He arrived in New York on the man-of-war " Alcide," after a
voyage of three months. There his valet, French hairdresser, lackeys, chair-bearers, and a wardrobe of new
foreign fashions made him the sensation of the hour in
the salons of the fine houses then facing the Bowling
Green. His mind thoroughly imbued with English
customs, he began the erection of the Stirling Manor
on his Somerset estate in New Jersey. This tract of
about seven hundred acres was inherited from his father,
James Alexander, the surveyor-general of New Jersey.
A large portion of it was of great beauty and fertility.
The most skilled gardeners in America were hired to
design and lay out the immense park, containing an
enclosure for deer, a rose-garden, an Italian vineyard,
and other accessories of a nobleman's seat in the mother-country. Mrs. Eliza Susan Morton Quincy, wife of the
celebrated Josiah Quincy of Boston, who in her youth
had a home near the Stirling Manor, has left us a description of it as she knew it then. She says:
Although Mrs. Quincy wrote that the Manor was unfinished at the time of the Revolution, the family had
spent many summers there previous to 1776. Elegant
ladies and cavaliers ridirig in the Stirling coach emblazoned with coronets and panelled medallions were
familiar sights to the farmers of the neighborhood. So
great was Lord Stirling's generosity to the poor on the
outskirts of his estate that they bobbed and courtesied
to him whenever he passed in his chariot. His lordship
accepted all their kowtowing and obeisance with the
complacency of a man of his title. Among the Schuyler
traditions there is a story told that Mrs. Cochrane, the
sister of General Philip Schuyler, in a spirit of fun, when
courtesying to Lord Stirling, once touched her high
head-dress to the ground, whereupon his lordship was
vastly pleased. The company present were very much
amused at his display of vanity, and for a time society
called the low sweeping bow "the curtsy Stirling."
Another anecdote is told of Lord Stirling's feeling of
importance. On the occasion of the execution of a
British spy, Lord Stirling was standing near the gallows.
The soldier who was to hang the poor wretch gave him
a few moments to commune with his Maker and seek
peace for his soul. The fellow fell on his knees, and in a beseeching voice cried, " Lord, Lord, have mercy on
me!" Lord Stirling, imagining the supplication was
addressed to him, turned to the man, and said, in a loud
voice, "None, you rascal, none!"
In those few years before the war many people were
entertained at the partly-furnished country-seat. The
Rutherfords, the Watts family, the Livingstons of New
York and New Jersey, and the Jays, all connected with
them by marriage. The Cluxtells and Steptoes of the
South were among the great people constantly journey-
ing there. The fairest American beauties and hand-
somest beaux fluttered before the golden mirrors in the
stuccoed drawing-room during June and July. Wits
were there, too,-butterfly wits and waspish ones ; and
when the Revolution was on, and General Stirling had
taken a place among the most brilliant of our com-
manders, the latter class did not forget him. His regal
hospitality served him an ill turn then, and by reason of
it he was rendered a conspicuous target for every spiteful
and satirical lampooner. The acrimonious Jones wrote
very disparagingly of him, and Jonathan Odell published
a dastardly attack on his character, stinging, no doubt,
at the time, but only amusing to-day:
At the first sign of the severance of the relations
between the colonies and the home government Lord
Stirling ardently embraced the cause of liberty, and
practically laid his immense fortune, estimated at one
hundred thousand pounds, on the altar of his country's
welfare. He became a personal friend of General
Washington. That calm judge of mankind placed the utmost confidence in his ability and integrity. During
the early years of the war, while he was on Long Island,
to the front at the battle of Trenton, proving the hero at
bloody Brandywine and bloody Monmouth, and capturing honor after honor by his brave conduct, his manor
house up among the hills of Basking Ridge was not
deserted, and was still a centre of sociability.
After Washington vacated the Wallace House for the
Ford Mansion at Morristown, in 1779, General Greene
removed his pretty wife and staff from the Van der Vere
house to Basking Ridge, and established his head-quarters
at the Stirling Manor. With such agreeable hostesses
we can imagine that the merry, dancing Mrs. Greene was
in her element. We learn of her husband sending to
Philadelphia °° for a pasteboard for a bonnet" for her,
which gives us a hint that her wardrobe was being
replenished for this elegant household, whose management up to the time of Lady Kitty's wedding was conducted with some of its old-time state.
Of that fair belle's marriage to Colonel William Duer
of New York much has been written, as it is an interesting subject to most historians. The rich and handsome Colonel Duer was descended from the noble family
of De Vere. His father, a planter in the West Indies,
had left him a large fortune in early manhood. At the
time of his marriage he was considered the finest prize
in the matrimonial market of the colonies. Like the
Skinner family of Perth Amboy, there is a story told
that the Duers were a branch of a royal family, and
such a descent, added to great wealth, gave brilliant
lustre to Colonel Duer's popularity. He was, no doubt,
much sought after by designing mammas and eligible
daughters. But he remained indifferent to all the charms
displayed before him until the winsome Lady Kitty captured his heart, while visiting her sister, then Lady Mary
Watts, in New York. She did more than all the rest,
for she ran off with it to the Jerseys.
Out under tall old trees, heavy with July foliage, their
wedding took place, in the year 1779. Many of the
guests, as did the hundreds of pieces of paduasoy, satin,
laces, etc., which comprised the bride's trousseau, had to
find their way past sentinels and army lines to be
present. Governor Livingston had occasion to issue
many passes, acts which he generally did with very
poor grace. All of the neighboring gentry appeared on
the scene. The Southards, Kennedys, Hatfields, Lotts,
and Mortons. The presents to the bride were very fine
for the period. The Duchess of Gordon, always the
ardent friend of Lord Stirling, the Earl of Shelburne,
and several other members of the British nobility remembered his favorite daughter. It is a sad story that
many years after the bright wedding-day Lady Kitty
Duer, then a decrepit old woman keeping a boardinghouse in New York City, was forced by poverty to part
with the souvenirs of the happiest day of her life.
From family tradition we learn that the bride was
gowned in white, and made a beautiful picture as she
stood by the commanding figure of General Washington, under a cypress-tree, awaiting the coming of
the bridegroom. After the knot was tied, the' ladies,
escorted by the brilliantly uniformed officers, army
affairs were then in a better condition than earlier in
the war, trained their gay petticoats over the lawn to
the manor, where one of those bounteous old-time collations was served. Later, when the young people were
deciding to play games, "Langteraloo," " Kiss the
Bride," " Put," and all the forgotten merrymakings indulged in at weddings, a clamor arose outside the house.
The guests, rushing to the windows, found the house
surrounded by soldiers from a nearby camp, all shouting
with lusty voices for a view of the bride. Then it is we
obtain the prettiest picture of any scene in Lady Kitty's
career, as she steps out again upon the grass in her white
satin slippers and all her wedding finery to receive the
congratulations of her father's fellow-campaigners. They
gave them to her individually and then filed away with
great satisfaction.
The fete for Lady Kitty's marriage was the last entertainment ever given in the manor house by Lord Stir-
ling. The private affairs which he had neglected for his
sword gradually grew from bad to worse, and upon his
death, at the close of the war in 1784, he left his family
only an honored name. Lady Kitty Duer, through her
wealthy marriage, continued to live in New York in all
the luxury to which she had been accustomed at her
father's Jersey home. Manasseh Cutler, in his journal
of 1784, mentions having dined with the Duers. He
found them living in the most sumptuous style, served
by liveried footmen, with fourteen kinds of wines on the
table and all the elegancies of the time. Their names are
among the most frequent on the famous dinner-list of
Mrs. John Jay, the social register of old New York. It
is a strange and lamentable fact that very few of the
ancestors of the members of our present New York
society appear on that list, and it is sadder still that only
the names of a small number of the descendants of that
historic society of yesterday appear in the social columns
and social registers of to-day.
The Stirling Manor passed out of the possession of the
family immediately after the war, and for some time
it was a drug on the real estate market of the young
republic.
It is to be hoped that Lady Kitty did not visit it
in after years, as its glories soon departed. Before the
advent of the next century it was a scene of ruin. The
drawing-room, with its stuccoed ceiling and decorations
of goddesses and cupids, where Lord Stirling and his
daughters sang hymns to the accompaniment of a little
London spinet, still in existence, was a habitation for pigs.
The tiled courtyard, where many a lordly coach, had
rumbled, was broken up, and the Stirling gilt coach,
itself a reminder of Sir Charles Grandison's day, was a
roosting-place for fowl. The entire estate became a
dreary picture of neglect and ruin.
An evil star seemed to shine on the family fortunes.
Colonel Duer lost his immense estate in unwise speculations. Poor Lady Kitty survived him many years.
In the dark close of her life the remembrances of her
former happiness supported her, and she never ceased
talking of her past. The Misses Trumbull, daughters
of General Jonathan Trumbull, of Connecticut, in their
unpublished letters, written during a visit to New York,
have described her along with several others. Those
who had never seen the winsome Lady Kitty of Revolutionary days no doubt thought the withered, snuff-taking old woman "queer" and "slatternly." She had
outlived her period, and many of those who loved her
best were sleeping. But why dwell on the gloomy picture? For her the grand manor house among the quiet
hills of Basking Ridge still existed, and she dwelt in the
streets of memory, where she walked always fair and
beautiful.
Edited by GET NJ, COPYRIGHT 2002
The seat of Lord Stirling, called by the country-people 'The
Buildings,' was two miles distant. Designed to imitate the residence of
an English nobleman, it was unfinished when the war began. The stables, coach-houses, and other offices, ornamented with cupolas and
gilded vanes, were built behind a large paved court behind the mansion.
A large hall extended through the
able stream called the Black River. A large hall extended through the
centre of the house. On one side was a drawing-room with painted
walls and stuccoed ceiling. Being taken there as a child, my imagination was struck with a style and splendor so different from all around.
William Alexander was allowed his title in America by courtesy.
In Timothy Trueman's Almanac for the year 1776, printed by Isaac
Collins, of Burlington, his name is given among the members of his
majesty's council of New Jersey as "The Honorable Lord Stirling."
General Washington in his correspondence invariably addressed him as
"my lord."
Brighter and more beautiful than any jewel in the
Stirling coronet were Mary and Kitty Alexander, the
two daughters of Lord Stirling. Charming and quaint
they look at us to-day out of an old miniature done by
some stray limner in their girlhood. The Lady Stirling,
their mother, was a Livingston, a sister of Governor
Livingston of New Jersey, who presented such a poor
appearance in his youth that he was dubbed in New
York society "The Broomstick." She was not a
beauty, and whatever share of personal attractiveness
Ladies Mary and Kitty possessed was most likely inherited from their father. Lord Stirling was of fine
personal appearance, and closely resembled the immortal Washington in face and figure. The Countess
Stirling has been given one of the back pages in history,
owing to the greater brilliancy of the lives of her husband and daughters, especially that of Kitty. She was
"by nature mild, serene," and most likely a good portion
of her time was spent governing and caring for the
extensive household with which her husband always,
surrounded her. There is an unrecorded tradition that
she was very fond of pets, and her dogs, cats, birds,
and monkeys were the terror of her acquaintances.
Their pranks must have delighted her very vivacious
second daughter and those merry cousins, the girls of
Governor Livingston, who "under manners soft and
engaging" hid a great capacity for fun and frolic.
What matters what of Stirling may become?
The quintessence of whiskey, soul of rum!
Fractious at nine, quite gay at twelve o'clock,
From thence to bedtime stupid as a block.
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