The Prince and the Private: The Unlikely Friendship of Cornelius Rose and Herman Knickerbocker (1812)

Historical Note: My. fifth-generation grandfather, Cornelius Rose (b 1757) was an amazing man and I wish there were documented written stories about him. Thankfully there is enough of a record to reconstruct some.

Not only do we know that he fought in the famous Green Mountain Boys Reigment, under Ethan Allen, in the early days of the war, after his duty with them, he moved to Schaghticoke New York and joined the Albany Militia serving under another famous figure, Colonel John Knickerbocker.

As I explored what is known, it became clear how astonishing was the name of the fifth child born to Cornelius and his wife Sarah in 1812. I've decided to dramatize the likely events of that naming as a screenplay set in three scenes: a Sunday morning worship serivce in the Dutch Reformed Church, on the front porch of the man whose permission he sought to name his son, followed by the baptism itself of Herman Knickerbocker Rose.

CHARACTERS:

• CORNELIUS ROSE (50s): A Revolutionary War Private. Lean, weathered by frontier winters, dressed in clean but faded home-spun linen. A man of quiet, ironclad humility. Cornelius was married in 1787 to Sarah Earls.

• HERMAN KNICKERBOCKER (33): "The Prince of Schaghticoke." Wealthy lawyer, former U.S. Congressman. Charismatic, meticulously dressed in a fine blue broadcloth coat, possessing a booming voice and an oversized personality. He was married to Arietta and would eventually have five children.

• DOMINE JESSE FONDA (60s): The longtime pastor of the congregation had recently passed away after a long illness and the pulpit was being supplied by Jesse Fonda, a traditionalist pastor from neighboring Shodack NY. He would eventually accept the call from the Schaghticoke Dutch Reformed Church.

SCENE 1: SCHAGHTICOKE DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH SUNDAY  OCTOBER 1812

A cold autumn wind rattled the windows of the large, bleak church.  The sanctuary was a massive, high-ceilinged room smelling of dried timber, linseed oil, and woodsmoke.

High above the floor was the Dutch minister:  Domine Jesse Fonda . He was perched on a pedestal pulpit beneath a heavy wooden canopy serving as a soundboard. The Domine (Dutch term for minister) was preaching his weekly sermon. Though most of the congregation were fluent in their ancestral tongue, hearing it spoken so purely was becoming an oddity, especially for the younger members. Even so, it would be another two hundred years before many Dutch reformed congregations would tolerate sermons in English. 

The main floor beneath the pulpit was a microcosm of Dutch society in 19th century

Rensselaer County. Beneath the pedestal pulpit, in the front of the sanctuary, was the lavishly appointed box pew of Herman Knickerbocker. Son of war hero, Colonel John Knickerbocker, Herman, accompanied by his wife and young children were dressed finely, Herman in a tailored blue wool coat and freshly polished black boots  And his young wife, Arietta, unlike the aristocratic wives of urban counterparts, was dressed modestly in a tailored silk gown with a high neckline and long sleeves. Like the other women, she wore a “church bonnet” in obedience to the biblical command for women to cover their heads. 

Though the sanctuary had a wood burning stove, it was particularly chilly this autumn Sunday so Herman’s servant had fired up small copper foot-warmers to stave off the cold for the family. 

.

Thirty feet behind him, on a plain wooden bench at the back of the sanctuary, sat an older man. His name was Cornelius Rose. He was dressed in a simple homemade linen shirt, tattered wool overcoat and dark breeches. His boots were as weathered and worn as his gray bearded face. 

Cornelius surveyed the congregation, fully aware of the broader events outside the four walls. His own war wounds still visiting him every day, he could not imagine going back to those days–he learned to fight years before in the Vermont Green Mountain Boys Battalion of Ethan Allen. Later, he joined the Albany Regiment of Colonel John Knickerbocker–one of the finest gentlemen Cornelius ever met. 

After marriage and the birth of children in Schaghticoke, Cornelius wished those days were over and prayed his sons would never hold a musket or be threatened with a bayonet. But he feared the worst. The winds of revolution were once again blowing. Threats of another British invasion from the north were stoking the hostility. Even in the congregation that morning he knew the divisions ran deep.  

Cornelius’ snapped back to the present moment.  The minister, Domine Jesse Fonda  was just concluding the benedictory, in his heavy Dutch accent: 

En God zeide: Het zij alzo! Amen.

The service was over. The congregation rose to their feet. Herman was the first to step out of his box pew with an effortless, regal grace befitting a man of great influence and self-confidence. He smiled and nodded to the other wealthy landowning families of Schaghticoke. 

From his obscure bench in the back, Cornelius quietly stood, waiting and watching. In his weathered hands he clutched a scroll of parchment to his chest. He alone knew its contents: the Rose Family Ledger: a copy of the official baptismal records for his family: 

Cornelius and Sarah had their first child, Elias. September 1, 1789. Elias was baptized before the congregation on September 25 and added to the registry. (the official baptismal records of the church mark only the births and the names are not legible until Herman) 

1798 was marked by two births: one at the beginning of the year and one at the end. Peter and Joseph. The family registry in his hand simply noted the stillbirth of a daughter in 1805. But the simple notation could never capture the devastation of the loss, particularly to Sarah who had prayed for a daughter.  Now, in 1812, God blessed them with another: a son. Cornelius was determined to give this son a grand name: a name that would memorialize his deep appreciation for the man whose son, stood a few feet away: 

He watched as Knickerbocker and family exited the sanctuary. Cornelius had come determined to talk to Herman. He began a move toward him but then decided against it. Now was not the time. 

SCENE 2. THE SABBATH VISIT

THE KNICKERBOCKER MANSION - FRONT PORCH - LATER THAT AFTERNOON

The sprawling brick estate of Herman Knickerbocker sat proudly against the autumn foliage near the Hoosic River.  Herman Knickerbocker sat comfortably in a wide wicker chair on the expansive porch, surveying his lands he had much to feel good about. However, the events in Washington and the northern frontier cast a shadow he wished he could ignore. 

Legal careers in 18th century America began not with law school but apprenticeship under an established attorney. After completing an apprenticeship with prominent Albany attorney John Vernon Henry in 1803, Herman ran for the US Congress on a strong Federalist platform. Federalists championed state’s rights in general but in particular were fierce opponents of any more hostilities with Britain. Republicans, like Jefferson and Madison were pounding the drums of war once again and stoking the flames for more. Knickerbocker was no pacifist! His anti war stance was strictly practical: It wasn’t only the war with England. It was also the trade embargo that remained a crippling impediment to economic recovery.

Though Herman and his family were wealthy and not feeling the hardship, those in his church and community felt it every day. When his first term expired he decided not to run again. He returned to the banks of the Hoosic River to help his people recover as best as they could. 

Holding a glass of imported Madeira in his hand, Herman’s deep reflections were interrupted by movement. He looked up to see a figure slowly approaching the porch. It was the man Cornelius Rose. Rose stood a respectful distance away, his tricorn hat in one hand and a small scroll tied with leather in the other. 

HERMAN (Booming with good humor) By the saints, Cornelius Rose! Do you intend to stand down there in the dirt until the frost takes you? Come up here, man! The British couldn’t keep you on the other side of the river. Why should my steps?

CORNELIUS Good afternoon, Congressman. I did not mean to disturb your sabbath rest.

HERMAN  Nonsense, my friend. Rest is the only thing a retired politician has left to manage, Come, Cornelius. Sit. Drink with me. 

Herman gestured to an empty wicker chair. He deftly poured another glass of wine. Cornelius continued to stand. 

CORNELIUS Sir, I came today on a matter of gravity.. My wife, Sarah, has put a healthy son into the cradle.

HERMAN (Beaming) A son! Praise be to the Almighty. The Rose line grows stouter. Arietta and I were saddened to hear of your last miscarriage. A daughter was she? 

The older man looked down and though somber in his lingering grief, quickly  rallied with his greater purpose. 

CORNELIUS I have come to ask your leave, Sir... Sarah and I would like to name this son, Herman Knickerbocker Rose.

Herman lowered the glass from his lips. He shot an intense gaze into Cornelius' face. The jovial demeanor of a moment ago had shifted. Setting his madeira down with a slow, deliberate clink, the two looked at each other and Cornelius grew awkward in the silence. Finally, Herman spoke.

HERMAN (Quietly, testing the boundaries) You know the custom of the Valley, Cornelius. My family’s name is stamped upon the deeds of the Corporate Lands and many of its businesses. The Knickerbocker name is engraved upon the front pews of the Consistory and in most of the public laws To place it upon a tenant’s child–i do not need to tell you that the town will wonder. They may view it–they may view you, Cornelius, as a political opportunist, attempting to stake a political claim. An entitlement for this boy. 

Cornelius and Sarah had certainly discussed the implications of his request. They knew what others might say. But Cornelius was compelled by a deeper purpose. 

CORNELIUS   I ask it not for politics, sir. Nor do I seek entitlement or land. I ask because of the debt I owe to your father.

Herman had not anticipated this response. He leaned forward in his seat. His curiosity was piqued by the shift in the private's tone. It was not the mere supplication of a peasant. Rather, it was the whisper of something settled from long ago, something that Herman somehow knew he could not brush aside. 

HERMAN My father? Colonel John?

CORNELIUS You may have never heard the story. But In August of '77, when Burgoyne’s scouts burned the outer flats, I was a private under your father's command. 

We were hauling heavy iron guns down from Fort Edward through the black mud. My boots had rotted long before. Like many others, my feet were bleeding into the soil. It was then that the Colonel rode past on his great grey mare. 

He stopped as did his entourage. Without saying a word, your father got down from his mare standing in the mud beside me. He reached into his saddlebag and found a spare wool stocking. He didn’t just offer them to me but, kneeling down in the mud, pulled off the old boot and forced his own stocking onto my feet. 

Standing, he looked me in the eye and said, 'Private, a Republic cannot stand if its defenders have frozen feet. The humor of the moment made him smile and even wink his eye. He remounted his horse and rode off. I will never forget his kindness. It possibly spared my life.

Cornelius looked down at the porch floorboards.

HERMAN. I had never heard that story but I knew many others like it. The Colonel was indeed a great patriot and a good man. 

CORNELIUS I survived the Saratoga push because of your father's mercy. When he passed away, a piece of this valley’s heart went with him. I have no manor to pass down to my children.  I have no status in the consistory. But.I do have a name and I wish to attach it to yours so that every time I speak his name in my small house, I am reminded that the rulers of this country can be men of profound mercy.

Herman looked away. Now it was his turn to look at the porch floor. His eyes glistening slightly with memories, he picked up his glass once again. Walking to the edge of the porch and looking off at the Hossic River, the Prince of Schaghticoke turned to look again at the Private. 

HERMAN (Voice thick) You do not ask for a patron, Cornelius. You ask to bear a burden of memory.

CORNELIUS  Yes, Sir, I ask only to honor a debt of the spirit. If it brings scandal to your house, I will bury the request here on this porch, and never speak of it again. That is my promise to you.

Herman turns back around. A brilliant, genuine smile breaks across his face—the look of "The Prince" completely transformed by a profound sense of shared humanity.

HERMAN Scandal? 

Herman’s jovial vigor returned with a flurry and open mouthed laughter. He clapped Cornelius on the back. 

Let the old Dutch uncles in the Consistory choke on their pipes! You bring my father’s ghost back to Hoosic Valley, Cornelius! I am now in your debt. 

After a momentary pause, the younger man had another thought. 

Cornelius, your request is granted.  It would be my highest honor. But I do have one condition...

CORNELIUS Sir?

HERMAN When the child is presented, I will not sit in the front box. My wife Arietta and I will stand at the font with you and your wife. We will be the witnesses of the covenant.  As your friend.

SCENE 3: SCHAGHTICOKE DUTCH REFORMED CHURCH - WEEKS LATER

The baptism of a child was a time of great celebration and joy in the Dutch reformed tradition. Unlike the papists, the Protestant Dutch understood baptism as an outward sign of an inward grace. 

The Domine prefaced the baptism itself with a brief sermon about the meaning. Though he would have preached in Dutch, here is the English translation: 

Sunday Morning Sermon: The Seal of the Covenant

“For the promise is unto you, and to your children…” — Acts 2:39

Beloved in the Lord,

We gather this morning in a season of heavy clouds. Rumors of war trouble our borders once again, and the fracturing spirit of faction threatens our young Republic. Yet, within these walls, we stand upon an ancient, unshakeable bedrock: the Covenant of Grace. Today, we witness this covenant sealed upon the brow of an infant child, Harman Knickerbacker Rose. Though he is presented by his parents, Cornelius and Sarah, as a child of the covenant today we all join in presenting him to our Gracious Lord. 

You are aware that because our names and our allegiances are closely watched these days by those hostile to liberty, it is necessary that we understand exactly what we are joining to do at this font. It is a somber reminder in these times of the pure, Reformed truth delivered to our fathers and how it differs from the errors of the Church of Rome.

Though Papists look upon the baptismal waters and see magic we do not believe this water holds magical power, nor do we believe it regenerates a cold heart by its physical touch. Salvation belongs to the sovereign grace of God alone, chosen before the foundation of the world, and applied by the Holy Spirit when and to whom He pleases.

Why then do we bring this child to the font if the water does not magically save him?

This water is a mirror. It shows Cornelius and Sarah and reminds the rest of us that their child is born in sin and in need of God’s gracious favor. The sacrament also shows the promise of the Gospel. Do not look to the water, look to the Promise. Let us depart today knowing that while kingdoms rise and fall, and earthly nations clash in fury, the covenant of our God endures from generation to generation.

Amen.

Minister Fonda summoned Cornelius, Sarah and the young Herman to the font. That was expected. What was not and caused a stir in the pews was what happened next. As Cornelius stepped forward, holding his infant son wrapped in a simple, bleached linen cloth, his namesake, Herman Knickerbocker, accompanied by Wife Arietta, removed from their box and soberly took a place around the baptismal font. 

The surprise delighted Herman and a faint smile crossed his lips. Domine Fonda was also surprised and, looking over his spectacles, proceeded with the ceremony. 

DOMINE  What is the name of this child?

CORNELIUS (Clear, resonant, echoing off the timber rafters) Herman Knickerbocker Rose

A collective sharp intake of breath rippled through the front box pews. Domine Fonda paused, looking at Herman. Such things did not normally happen!  Herman nodded slowly, a firm smile on his lips.

Having been given permission to proceed the Domine dropped a handful of water onto the baby’s forehead. In Dutch he continued, 

DOMINE Herman Knickerbocker Rose, I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

The Domine next turned to the heavy leather-bound parish registry resting on the clerk's desk adjacent to the baptismal font. Dipping the quill in ink, Fonda meticulously wrote out the entry:

With polite smiles (and lingering puzzlement by others), the baptism was complete. Cornelius proudly held his little boy in his arms. As he looked up, it was to see Herman’s waiting eyes. 

Herman extended his hand to Cornelius. The hand of the Prince and the hand of the Private locked together tightly before the congregation, bridging two worlds. :The old-world remained, for now with its castes and classes, its rigid rules and restrictions. But the handshake also represented the birth of a new world that was replacing the old. A new America. In this world, a  Prince and a Private could stand together, not as master and servant, but as friends, united by a higher fealty than a crown or social status: they stood equal in the cause of liberty.