It was thick weather when I traveled the country between Rhinebeck and Race Place, and the mist hid the distant hills and dulled the nearby Autumn tints, with now and then a shower to make the roads the better for the sprinkling. All nature had taken the veil, and there was little to see beyond the adjoining fields, and these, lacking the magic touch of the sun, were but dull companions. The towns, however, kept jogging past at frequent intervals, Red Hook being first on the list, the first mention of which is in 1751, when certain baptisms are recorded as occurring in Roode Hoek. The place is said to have its name from the fact that a marsh covered with ripe cranberries was the first thing that caught the Dutch eye in this spot. As one passes through the town he sees a guide-board pointing to Barrytown on the river, some three or four miles away, where that Gen. John Armstrong once lived, the author of those celebrated addresses published to the army at Newburg, which might have resulted in trouble among the troops had it not been for Washington's level head.
There are some old buildings in Red Hook, but none of historic interest. It was here that I passed the last of the old brown sandstone mile-stones; above here they are of some white stone that looks like coarse marble, and from their general illegibility are evidently not as well fitted to stand the rigorous northern climate as are their brown brothers from the south.
Upper Red Hook: The recorded history of most of these towns begins with the early church records. When the population grew dense enough to warrant it, a new church organization would be formed to accommodate those living in a neighborhood distant from the nearest house of worship, and as soon as this happened the good dominie or the scribe of the church would begin to record history; so of Upper Red Hook—all we know of its early beginnings, starting with a record of baptisms in December, 1785, comes from this source.
The road now passes into Columbia County, where everything is, was, and ever shall be, Livingston. The family manor is on the river bank, six miles away, but the family, like the locusts for number, has spread up and down the river for a hundred miles or more.
In this county the Township of Livingston contains the villages of Claremont, after the manor on the river; Johnstown, after John Livingston; and Linlithgow, after the old home in Scotland. Dutchess County knows them and knows them well, likewise Westchester, while Rensselaer, on the north, counts them among her prominent citizens.
ROBERT LIVINGSTON.
It appears that human nature was much the same two hundred years ago as at present. It is said of Robert Livingston, first lord of the manor, that he "was shrewd, persistent and very acquisitive; his zeal in this direction leading him sometimes to adopt questionable methods to advance his interests. He always exerted himself to obtain riches and strove continually to promote his family." But we have scripture for it that "men will praise thee when thou doest well to thyself." In March, 1711, Lord Clarendon wrote: "I think it unhappy that Colonel Hunter (Governor of the Province) at his first arrival fell into so ill hands, for this Levingston has been known many years in that province for a very ill man.... I am of opinion that if the substance proposed be allowed, the consequences will be that Levingston and some others will get estates, the Palatines will not be the richer."
ANTI-RENT TROUBLES.
The anti-rent troubles which occupied the attention of the state for one hundred and one years began on the Livingston Estate in the Fall of 1751. The tenants first neglected, then refused to pay rent. The boundary line between New York and Massachusetts was in dispute, both Provinces claiming this territory; and the malcontents, taking advantage of this to get some sort of title to their farms from the "Committee of the General Court of the Province of Massachusetts Bay," defied Robert Livingston Jr., the then proprietor, and a hard time he had of it to deal with both the discontented farmers and the government of the adjoining Province, New York being slow to take up the cudgels in his behalf.
From here the trouble spread to the Van Rensselaer and other manors, resulting in riots and small-sized warfare, with now and then the murder of a sheriff on the one side or an anti-renter on the other. The matter got into state politics and finally, in 1846, the tenants elected their Governor, and in 1852 the Court of Appeals decided in favor of the tenants, and the trouble was laid to rest.