As I Remember
by Marian Gouverneur · English · Gutenberg #28384 · 825,576 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: As I Remember
Author: Marian Gouverneur
Release date: March 22, 2009 [eBook #28384]
Language: English
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| Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in |
| this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of |
| this document. |
| Text printed using the Greek alphabet in the original book |
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| Superscript letters are shown as follows: Jan^y |
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AS I REMEMBER
[Illustration: MRS. GOUVERNEUR.]
AS I REMEMBER
_Recollections of American Society
during the Nineteenth Century_
BY
MARIAN GOUVERNEUR
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1911
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
TO THE MEMORY OF
MY FATHER
Judge James Campbell
WHOSE BENIGN INFLUENCE I STILL FEEL
AND TO
MY HUSBAND
Samuel L. Gouverneur, Jr.
THE COMPANION AND PILLAR OF STRENGTH
OF MY LATER YEARS
THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED
PREFACE
The rambling personal notes threaded together in these pages were
written at the urgent request of my family, and have provided a pleasant
diversion during otherwise lonely hours. The idea of their publication
was highly distasteful to me until the often repeated importunities of
many of those whose judgment commands my respect persuaded me that some
of the facts and incidents I have recalled would prove of interest to a
large circle of readers. The narrative is concerned with persons and
events that have interested me during the busy hours of a lengthy life.
I have been deeply impressed by the changes wrought by time in the modes
of education, which are now so much at variance with those of my
childhood, and in the manners and customs of those with whom I have
mingled.
I should be guilty of an act of grave injustice if I failed to express
my grateful acknowledgments for the aid so unselfishly rendered, in a
score of ways, by my daughter, Mrs. Roswell Randall Hoes, without which
these pages would not, and could not, have been written.
M. GOUVERNEUR.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--EARLY LONG ISLAND DAYS 1
II.--NEW YORK AND SOME NEW YORKERS 21
III.--SCHOOL-DAYS AND EARLY FRIENDS 50
IV.--LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE METROPOLIS 69
V.--LONG BRANCH, NEWPORT AND ELSEWHERE 96
VI.--SOME DISTINGUISHED ACQUAINTANCES 118
VII.--FASHION AND LETTERS 138
VIII.--WASHINGTON IN THE FORTIES 170
IX.--SOCIAL LEADERS IN WASHINGTON LIFE 194
X.--DIPLOMATIC CORPS AND OTHER CELEBRITIES 229
XI.--MARRIAGE AND CONTINUED LIFE IN WASHINGTON 256
XII.--SOJOURN IN CHINA AND RETURN 288
XIII.--THE CIVIL WAR AND LIFE IN MARYLAND 312
XIV.--VISIT TO THE FAR SOUTH AND RETURN TO WASHINGTON 335
XV.--TO THE PRESENT DAY 365
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Mrs. Gouverneur _Frontispiece_
Samuel L. Gouverneur, Junior 116
Mrs. John Still Winthrop, _née_ Armistead, by Sully 146
Mrs. Charles Eames, _née_ Campbell, by Gambadella 178
Brigadier General Winfield Scott, U.S.A., by Ingham 202
Mrs. James Munroe, _née_ Kortright, by Benjamin West 258
Miniature of James Monroe, painted in Paris in 1794 by Semé 284
Mrs. Gouverneur's three daughters, Miss Gouverneur, Mrs. Roswell
Randall Hoes, Mrs. William Crawford Johnson 310
AS I REMEMBER
CHAPTER I
EARLY LONG ISLAND DAYS
I do not know of a spot where, had I been accorded the selection, I
should have preferred first to see the light of day, nor one more in
keeping with the promptings of sentiment, than the southern shore of
Long Island, N.Y., where I was born. My home was in Queens County, on
the old Rockaway Road, and often in childhood during storms at sea I
have heard the waves dash upon the Rockaway beach. Two miles the other
side of us was the village of Jamaica, and from our windows we caught
glimpses of the bay that bore its name. My first home was a large
old-fashioned house on a farm of many acres, ornamented by Lombardy
poplars which stood on each side of the driveway, a fashion introduced
into this country by Lafayette. My maternal grandfather, Captain John
Hazard, who had commanded a privateersman during the Revolution,
purchased the place from "Citizen" Edmond Charles Genet, the first
Minister of France to the United States, and I have the old parchment
deed of transfer still in my possession. During the War of the
Revolution my Grandfather Hazard's ship was captured by Admiral George
B. Rodney, and I have often heard my mother tell the story she received
from his lips, to the effect that after he was "comfortably housed in
irons" on Rodney's ship he overheard a conversation in which his name
was frequently mentioned. The subject under discussion was the form of
punishment he deserved, and the cheerful remark reached his ear: "Hang
the damned rebel." This incident made an indelible impression upon my
mother's memory, which was emphasized by the fact that her father bore
the scars of those irons to the day of his death.
I have no recollection of my Grandfather Hazard, as he died soon after
my birth. Jonathan Hazard, his brother, espoused the English cause
during the Revolution. This was possibly due to the influences of an
English mother, whose maiden name was Sarah Owen, of Shropshire. I have
heard my mother say that her grandmother was a descendant of Dr. John
Owen, Chaplain of Oliver Cromwell. A piece of silver bearing the Owen
coat of arms is still in the possession of a member of my family. He
entered the British navy, changed his name to Carr, and soon rose to the
rank of Post-Captain. He eventually drifted back to America and died
unmarried at my grandfather's home on Long Island many years after the
war. The trite saying that history repeats itself is here forcibly
illustrated by brother fighting against brother. It brings to mind our
own fraternal troubles during the Civil War, which can never be effaced
from memory.
Much of the furniture of my first home was purchased from Citizen Genet
when my grandfather took possession of the house and farm. We understood
that the French minister brought it with him from France, and many of
the pieces, some of which are mahogany, are still in my possession. A
bedstead which I still occupy has been said to be the first of its
design brought from France to this country. Hanging in my bedroom is a
set of engravings entitled "Diligence and Dissipation," after Hogarth,
and also a handsome old print of the Savior in the Pharisee's House, all
of which were purchased at the same time. Two alabaster ornaments are
memories of my earliest childhood, one of which was a column casting a
shadow that formed a likeness of Louis XVI.
My Grandfather Hazard had many slaves, and I remember hearing of one of
them who ran away and took with him a carriage and pair of horses, and,
who, when called to account for the act, threatened my grandfather's
life. My mother, although suffering from a severe indisposition, ran out
of the house for succor. The slave was taken into custody, and was
eventually sent South and sold. Some of the other slaves I well
remember. Among them was a very old couple with numerous progeny who
lived not far from us in a hut in the woods on the Hazard estate. In
subsequent years I heard my mother remark, upon the occasion of a
marriage in the family connection, that when "Cuff" and "Sary" were
married her father gave the clergyman five dollars for his services.
Cuff was an old-fashioned, festive negro born in this country, and with
the firm belief that existence was bestowed upon him solely for his own
enjoyment. He possessed a genius for discovering holidays, and added
many to the calendar that were new to most of us. For example, sometimes
when he was given a task to accomplish, he would announce that he could
not work upon that day as it was "Paas Monday," or "Paas Tuesday," and
so on, continuing as the case required, through the week. He had supreme
contempt for what he called "Guinea niggers," a term he applied to those
of his race who came directly from Africa, in contradistinction to those
who had been born in this country. One of Cuff's predecessors in the
Hazard family was named Ben, and I have the original deed of his
purchase from Hendrick Suydam, dated April 28th, 1807. The price paid
was two hundred dollars.
In the village of Jamaica was a well known academy where my mother
received the early part of her education. One of her preceptors there
was the Hon. Luther Bradish, who some years later became Lieutenant
Governor of the State of New York, and who at the time of his death was
president of the New York Historical Society. Her education was
continued at Miss Sarah Pierce's school in Litchfield, Connecticut, one
of the most fashionable educational institutions of that period. I have
heard my mother say that, accompanied by her father, she made the
journey to Litchfield in a chariot, the name applied to carriages in
those days, this, of course, being before there was any rail
communication with that place. In close proximity to Miss Pierce's
establishment was the law school of Judge James Gould, whose pupils were
a great social resource to Miss Pierce's scholars. This institution was
patronized by many pupils from the South, and during my mother's time
John C. Calhoun was one of its students. A few years ago a history of
the school was published, and a copy of the book was loaned me by the
late Mrs. Lucius Tuckerman of Washington, whose mother was educated
there and whose grandfather was the celebrated Oliver Wolcott of
Connecticut. After my mother's marriage, she and my father visited Miss
Pierce in Litchfield. This was during the Jackson campaign, while
political excitement ran so very high that a prominent physician of the
place remarked to my father, in perfectly good faith, that Jackson could
not possibly be elected President as he would receive no support from
Litchfield.
In Jamaica was the last residence of the Honorable Rufus King, our
minister to England under Washington and twenty years later a candidate
for the presidency. His son, Charles King, was the beloved President of
Columbia College in New York, and his few surviving students hold his
memory in reverence. The house in which the King family resided was a
stately structure with an _entourage_ of fine old trees. It eventually
passed into other hands, and a few years ago the entire property was
generously donated by the Daughters of the American Revolution to the
town of Jamaica, and is now called "King's Manor."
My grandfather, Captain John Hazard, was about fifty years old at the
time of his marriage to my grandmother, Miss Leupp, of New Jersey, who
died soon after, leaving an only child, my mother. A few years later he
married Lydia Blackwell at her home on Blackwell's Island, which her
father, Jacob Blackwell, had inherited from his father, Jacob Blackwell,
the son of Robert Blackwell, who was the progenitor of the family in
this country and gave his name to the island upon which he resided.
Several years later Captain Hazard was heard to remark that matrimony
was a lottery, and that he had drawn two prizes. I have in my possession
an old letter written by Miss Blackwell to my grandfather previous to
their marriage, which is so quaint and formal that I am tempted to give
it in full:
Miss Blackwell's compliments to Captain Hazard and desires
to know how he does--and if well enough will be glad to see
him the first leisure day--as she has something of
consequence to communicate and is sorry to hear that he has
been so much indisposed as to deprive his friends of the
pleasure of his company for this last fortnight--May you
enjoy every happiness this imperfect estate affords is the
sincere wish of your friend,
L. B.
Let me see you on Sunday.
Burn this.
Captain Hazard brought his new bride to the old home on the Rockaway
Road where I was subsequently born, and she immediately took under her
protecting wing my mother, who was then but little more than an infant.
The babe grew and thrived, and never knew until she was a good-sized
girl that the woman who had so lovingly nurtured her was only a
step-mother. She learned the fact from a schoolmate who told her out of
revenge for some fancied wrong; and I shall always remember my mother
telling me how she hurried home feeling all the time that the cruel
story was untrue, only to have it confirmed by the lips of the woman who
had been as affectionate and unselfish as any mother could possibly have
been to her own child. In subsequent years, when my mother gathered her
own children around her, she held her step-mother up to us as the
embodiment of all female virtue and excellence, all of which is
confirmed by my own recollection of her remarkable character and
exemplary life.
On the farm adjoining us lived a crusty old bachelor by the name of
Martin, who in his earlier life had been professionally associated with
Aaron Burr. No human being was allowed to cross his threshold, but I
recall that years after his death I saw a large quantity of silver which
he had inherited, and which bore a martin for a crest. He was a terror
to all the children in our vicinity, and it was his habit to walk on the
neighboring roads clad in a dressing gown. More than once as I passed
him he accosted me with the interrogative, "Are you Nancy Hazard's
brat?"--a query that invariably prompted me to quicken my pace. Mr.
Martin kept a fine herd of cattle, among which was an obstreperous bull
whose stentorian tones were familiar to all the residents of the
adjoining places. When the children of our household were turbulent my
mother would often exclaim, "Listen to Martin's bull roaring!" This
invariably had a soothing effect upon the children, and strange to say
this trivial incident has descended among my kindred to the fourth
generation, for my mother's great-grandchildren are as familiar with
"Martin's bull" as my sisters and brothers and I were in our own
childhood.
Malcolm Campbell, my paternal grandfather, left Scotland subsequently to
our Revolution, accompanied by his wife and son James (my father), and
after a passage of several weeks landed in New York. His wife was Miss
Lucy McClellan. His father, Alexander Campbell, fought in the battle of
Culloden, and I have heard my father say that his grandfather's regiment
marched to the song of:
"Who wadna fight for Charlie?
Who wadna draw the sword?
Who wadna up and rally,
At their royal prince's word?
Think on Scotia's ancient heroes,
Think on foreign foes repell'd,
Think on glorious Bruce and Wallace,
Who the proud usurpers quell'd."
It is said he had previously been sent to Italy to collect arms and
ammunition for the "Young Pretender," the grandson of James II. The
battle of Culloden, which was fought on the 16th of April, 1746, and
which has often been called the "Culloden Massacre," caused the whole
civilized world to stand aghast. The order of the Duke of Cumberland to
grant no quarter to prisoners placed him foremost in the ranks of
"British beasts" that have disgraced the pages of history, and earned
for him the unenviable title of "The Butcher of Culloden." It has been
suggested in extenuation of his fiendish conduct that His Grace was
"deep in his cups" the night before the battle, and that the General to
whom the order was given, realizing the condition of the Duke, insisted
that his instructions should be reduced to writing. His Grace thereupon
angrily seized a playing card from the table where he was engaged in
gambling, and complied with the request. This card happened to be the
nine of diamonds, and to this day is known as "the curse of Scotland." A
long period elapsed before those who had sympathized with the Young
Pretender's cause were restored to the good graces of the English
throne, and it was Scotland that was compelled to bear the brunt of the
royal displeasure. The sins of the fathers were visited upon their
children, and it is not at all unlikely that the sympathies of Alexander
Campbell's son, Malcolm (my grandfather), for the last of the House of
Stuart developed a chain of circumstances that resulted, with other
causes, in his embarkation for America.
During the early period of my childhood I became familiar with the
Jacobite songs which my father used to sing, and which had been handed
down in the Campbell family. I was so deeply imbued during my early life
with the Jacobite spirit of my forefathers that when I read the account
in my English history of George I, carrying with him his little
dissolute Hanoverian Court and crossing the water to England to become
King of Great Britain, I felt even at that late day that the act was a
personal grievance. Through the passage of many years a fragment of one
of these Jacobite songs still rings in my ears:
"There's nae luck aboot the hoose,
There's nae luck ava [at all];
There's little pleasure in the hoose
When our gude man's awa."
Even now some of those songs appeal to me possibly in the same manner as
the "Marseillaise" to the French, or the "Ranz de Vaches" to the Swiss
who have wandered from their mountain homes, or as the strains of our
national hymn affect my own fellow countrymen in foreign lands, whose
hearts are made to throb when with uncovered heads they listen, and are
carried back in memory to the days of "auld lang syne."
My grandfather, Malcolm Campbell, received the degree of Master of Arts
from the University of St. Andrews, the great school of Scottish
Latinity, and his diploma conferring upon him that honor is still in the
possession of his descendants. Before leaving Scotland he had formed an
intimacy with Andrew Picken, and during the voyage to America enjoyed
the pleasing companionship of that gentleman together with his wife and
their two children. Mrs. Picken was the only daughter of Sir Charles
Burdette of London, whose wife was the daughter of the Earl of Wyndham.
She and Andrew Picken, who was a native of Stewarton, in Ayrshire, a
younger branch of a noble family, four years previously had made a
clandestine marriage and, after vainly attempting to effect a
reconciliation with her father, resolved upon emigrating to America.
Their daughter, Mrs. Sara Jane Picken Cohen, widow of the Rev. Dr.
Abraham H. Cohen of Richmond, Virginia, wrote the memoirs of her life,
and in describing her parents' voyage to this country says: "It was one
of those old-time voyages, of nine weeks and three days, from land to
land, and a very boisterous one it was. There had been a terrific storm,
which had raged violently for several days." This friendship formed in
the mother country was naturally much strengthened during the long
voyage, and when the two families finally reached New York, Mrs. Cohen
writes: "Here we settled down our two families, strangers in a strange
land. But the lamp of friendship burned brightly and lit us on the way;
our children grew up together in early childhood, and as brothers and
sisters were born in each family they were named in succession after
each other." It is pleasant to state that this friendship formed so many
generations ago is still continued in my family, as my daughters and I
frequently enjoy in our Washington home the pleasing society of Mr. and
Mrs. Roberdeau Buchanan, the latter of whom is the great granddaughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Picken.
Soon after his arrival in New York Malcolm Campbell established a
classical school at 85 Broadway nearly opposite Trinity Church. He
edited the first American edition of Cicero's orations and of Cæsar's
commentaries, and also revised and corrected and published in 1808
l'Abbé Tardy's French dictionary. His first edition of Cicero is
dedicated to the "Right Reverend Benjamin Moore, D.D., Bishop of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in the State of New York, and President of
Columbia College," and another edition with the same text and imprint is
dedicated, in several pages of Latin, to the learned Samuel L. Mitchell,
M.D. He and his wife were buried in the graveyard of the Wall Street
Presbyterian Church. It may not be inappropriate in this connection to
refer to another instructor of an even earlier period which has come
within my notice, who taught reading, writing and arithmetic "with
becoming accuracy." In _The New York Journal Or The General Advertiser_
of the 30th of April, 1772, appears the following advertisement:
THE RESPECTABLE PUBLIC is hereby informed that, agreeable to
a former advertisement, a Seminary of Learning was opened at
New Brunswick, last November, by the name of _Queen's
College_,[1] and also a Grammar School, in order to prepare
Youth for the same. Any Parents or Guardians who may be
inclined to send their Children to this Institution, may
depend upon having them instructed with the greatest Care
and Diligence in all the Arts and Sciences usually taught in
public Schools; the strictest Regard will be paid to their
moral Conduct, (and in a word) to every Thing which may tend
to render them a Pleasure to their Friends, and an Ornament
to their Species.
Also to obviate the Objection of some to sending their
Children on Account of their small Proficiency in English, a
proper Person has been provided, who attends at the Grammar
School an Hour a Day, and teaches Reading, Writing and
Arithmetic with becoming Accuracy--It is hoped that the
above Considerations, together with the healthy and
convenient Situation of the Place, on a Pleasant and
navigable River, in the midst of a plentiful Country; the
Reasonableness of the Inhabitants in the Price of Board, and
the easy Access from all Places, either by Land or Water
will be esteemed by the considerate Public, as a sufficient
Recommendation of this infant College, which (as it is
erected upon so Catholic a Plan) will undoubtedly prove
_advantageous_ to our new American World, by assisting its
SISTER SEMMINARIES to cultivate Piety, Learning, and
Liberty.
_Per Order of the Trustees_,
FREDERICK FRELINGHUYSEN, Tutor.
N.B. The Vacation of the College will be expired on
Wednesday the 6th of May, any Students then offering
themselves shall be admitted into such Class, as (upon
Examination) they shall be found capable of entering.
The signer of this interesting advertisement was graduated from
Princeton College in 1770, and subsequently became a lawyer. His
distinguished son, Theodore, was widely known as a philanthropist and
Christian statesman, and at various periods was United States Senator,
Chancellor of the New York University, President of Rutgers College, a
candidate for the Vice Presidency of the United States, and President of
the American Bible Society. A grandson of the signer was the Hon.
Frederick Theodore Frelinghuysen, the well remembered United States
Senator and Secretary of State under President Arthur.
Speaking of the Frelinghuysen family, I recall an amusing story told at
the expense of Newark, New Jersey. When the late Secretary Frelinghuysen
presented himself at the gates of Heaven he was surprised not to be
recognized by St. Peter, who asked him who he was. "I am the Hon.
Frederick T. Frelinghuysen," was the response. "From where?" "Newark,
New Jersey." "Newark?" quoth St. Peter, "I never heard of that place,
but I will look on my list. No, it isn't there. I can not admit you, Mr.
Frelinghuysen." So the old gentleman proceeded and knocked at another
gate in the boundless immensity. The devil opened it and looked out. The
same conversation occurred as with St. Peter. Newark wasn't "on the
list." "My Heavens, Mr. Satan, am I then doomed to return to Newark?"
exclaimed the New Jersey statesman, and went back to the Newark
graveyard.
My father, James Campbell, was born in Callander, Scotland, and, as I
have before stated, came to this country with his parents as a very
young child. Both he and his father were clad in their Highland dress
upon their arrival in New York. His childhood was spent in the great
metropolis, and he subsequently studied law in Albany, with the Hon.
Samuel Miles Hopkins, the grandfather of Mrs. Arent Schuyler
Crowninshield. He was admitted to the bar, and almost immediately became
a Master in Chancery. In 1821 he was appointed Surrogate of New York, a
position which he retained for twenty years. He was always a pronounced
democrat, but notwithstanding this fact he was reappointed ten
successive times. In 1840, however, the Whig party was in the ascendency
in the New York Legislature, and through the instrumentality of William
H. Seward, who introduced a system called "pipe laying," the whole
political atmosphere was changed. "Pipe laying" was an organized scheme
for controlling votes, and derived its name from certain political
manipulations connected with the introduction of Croton water in New
York City. I have learned in later years that more approved methods are
frequently used for controlling votes. Modern ethics has discovered a
more satisfactory method through means of powerful corporations with
coffers wide open in the holy cause of electing candidates.
This unfortunate state of affairs resulted in the removal of my father
from office, and he immediately resumed the practice of law. Some of his
decisions as Surrogate are regarded as precedents to this day. Two of
the most prominent of these are "Watts and LeRoy vs. Public
Administrator" (a decision resulting in the establishment of the Leake
and Watts Orphan House) and "In the matter of the last Will and
Testament of Alice Lispenard, deceased." He is said to have owned about
this time the largest private library in New York City, composed largely
of foreign imprints, as he seemed to have but little regard for American
editions. The classical portion of his library, especially the volumes
published in Paris, was regarded as unusually choice and well selected.
He had also a large collection of Greek Testaments which he read in
preference to the translations. He owned a copy of Didot's Virgil and I
have always understood that, with the exception of one owned in the
Brevoort family of New York, it was at that time the only copy in
America. He retained his scholarly tastes throughout his whole life, and
in looking back I delight to picture him as seated in his library
surrounded by his beloved books. In 1850, about two years after his
death, his library was sold at auction, the catalogue of which covers
114 closely printed pages. Among the purchasers were William E. Burton,
the actor, Chief Justice Charles P. Daly and Henry W. Longfellow.
Professor Charles Anthon of Columbia College dedicated his Horace to my
father in the following choice words:
To
My old & valued friend
James Campbell, Esq.,
who, amid the graver duties of a judicial station,
can still find leisure to gratify a pure and
cultivated taste, by reviving the
studies of earlier years.
The following letter from Professor Anthon, the original of which is
still retained by the family, was addressed to my mother shortly after
my father's death.
COL[UMBIA] COLL[EGE], Sep. 3d 1849.
Dear Madam,
I dedicated the accompanying work to your lamented husband
in happier years, while he was still in the full career of
honourable usefulness; and, now that death has taken him
from us, I deem it but right that the volume which bore his
name while living, should still continue to be a memento of
him. May I request you to accept this humble but sincere
tribute to the memory of a most valued friend?
I remain, very respectfully and truly,
CHAS. ANTHON.
Mrs. Campbell,
Houston Street.
When Professor Anthon was about forty-eight years of age Edgar Allan Poe
described him as "about five feet, eight inches in height; rather stout;
fair complexion; hair light and inclined to curl; forehead remarkably
broad and high; eye gray, clear, and penetrating; mouth well-formed,
with excellent teeth--the lips having great flexibility, and consequent
power of expression; the smile particularly pleasing. His address in
general is bold, frank, cordial, full of _bonhomie_. His whole air is
_distingué_ in the best understanding of the term--that is to say, he
would impress anyone at first sight with the idea of his being no
ordinary man. He has qualities, indeed, which would have assured him
eminent success in almost any pursuit; and there are times in which his
friends are half disposed to regret his exclusive devotion to classical
literature."
My father was a trustee of the venerable New York Society Library and
one of the directors of the old United States Bank in Philadelphia; and
I have in my possession a number of interesting letters from Nicholas
Biddle, its president, addressed to him and asking his advice and
counsel. For eighteen years he was a trustee of Columbia College in New
York, and enjoyed the close friendship of President William A. Duer,
Reverend and Professor John McVickar, James Renwick, Professor of
Chemistry, whose mother, Jennie Jeffery, was Burns's "Blue-e'ed
Lassie," and Professor Charles Anthon, all of whom filled chairs in
that institution with unquestioned ability. My father was also a member
of the St. Andrews Society of New York. After his death, President Duer
in an impressive address alluded to him in the following manner:
"Two of our associates with whom I have been similarly connected and
have known from boyhood have also departed, leaving sweet memories
behind them, James Campbell and David S. Jones, the former a scholar and
a ripe and good one, once honoring the choice of his fellow citizens and
winning golden opinions as Surrogate of this city and county."
President Duer had a most interesting family of children. His eldest
married daughter, Frances Maria, was the wife of Henry Shaeffe Hoyt of
Park Place, and died recently in Newport at a very advanced age. Eleanor
Jones Duer, another daughter, married George T. Wilson, an Englishman.
She was a great beauty, bearing a striking resemblance to Fanny Kemble,
and was remarkable for her strong intellect. Her marriage was
clandestine, and the cause, as far as I know, was never explained. Still
another daughter, Elizabeth, married Archibald Gracie King of Weehawken,
and was a Colonial Dame of much prominence in her later years. She was
the mother of the authoress, Mrs. John King Van Rensselaer. President
Duer's wife was Hannah Maria Denning of Fishkill, New York. I knew her
only as an elderly woman possessing a fine presence and social tastes.
In my early life the students of Columbia College enjoyed playing
practical jokes upon its dignified professors. As an illustration, I
remember once seeing the death of Professor Renwick fictitiously
published in one of the daily journals, much to the sorrow and
subsequently the indignation of a large circle of friends. Professor
Anthon, too, although a confirmed bachelor, had to face his turn, and
his marriage to some unknown bride bearing an assumed name was an
occasional announcement. But the most amusing feature of the joke would
appear in the morning, when an emphatic denial would be seen in the
columns of the same newspaper, accompanied by a quotation in spurious
Latin. Professor Anthon lived with his two spinster sisters in one of
the college buildings, and their home was a rendezvous for an
appreciative younger generation. In connection with his duties at the
college, he was the head of the Columbia College Grammar School, and I
have always understood that he strictly followed the scriptural
injunction not "to spare the rod." His victims were repeatedly heard to
remark that these flagellations partially counterbalanced the lack of
exercise which he felt very keenly in his sedentary life. But with all
his austerity his pupils would occasionally be astonished over the
amount of humor that he was capable of displaying. His handwriting was
exquisitely minute in character, and I have in my possession two
valentines composed by him and sent to me which are quaintly beautiful
in language and, although sixty years old, are still in a perfect state
of preservation.
_To Miss Marian Campbell._
The Campbell is coming! Ye Gentles beware,
For Don Cupid lies hid in her dark flowing hair,
And her eyes, bright as stars that in mid-heaven roll,
Pierce through frock-coat and dickey right into the soul!
And ye lips which the coral might envy, I ween,
And ye pearl rows that peep from the red lips between,
And that soft-dimpled cheek, with the hue of the rose,
And that smile which bears conquest wherever it goes,
Oh, could I but think that you soon would be mine,
I'd send Marian each morning a sweet valentine.
Feb'y 14, 1844.
(Written a few years later.)
Sweet girl! within whose laughing eye
A thousand little Cupids lie,
While every curl, that floats above
Thy noble brow, seems fraught with love.
Oh, list to me, my loved one, list!
Thy Tellkampf's suit no more resist,
But give to him, to call his own,
A heart where Kings might make their throne.
John Louis Tellkampf, to whom Anthon so facetiously alludes in the
second valentine, was a young German who frequently came to our house,
and who, through my father's aid and influence, in subsequent years
became professor of German in Columbia College. When we first knew him
he spoke English with much difficulty, and it was a standing joke in our
household that once when he desired to say that a certain person had
been born he expressed the fact as "getting alive."
Malcolm Campbell, a younger brother of mine, was graduated in 1850 from
Columbia College near the head of his class. Among his classmates were
Charles Seymour, subsequently Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church
of Illinois, and the distinguished lawyer Frederick R. Coudert, whose
father kept a boys' French school in Bleecker Street. My brother
subsequently studied law in the office of Judge Henry Hilton, and for
many years practiced at the New York bar. Upon a certain occasion he and
Samuel F. Kneeland were opposing counsel in an important suit during
which Mr. Kneeland kept quoting from his own work upon "Mechanics'
Liens." My brother endured this as long as his patience permitted and
then, slowly rising to his feet, said: "I have cited decisions on the
point in controversy, but my learned opponent cites nothing except his
own opinions printed in his own book. With such persistency has he done
this that I have been tempted to write these lines:
"Oh, Kneeland! dear Kneeland, pray what do you mean
By such a fat book on the subject of Lien?
Was it for glory or was it for pelf,
Or just for the pleasure of quoting yourself?"
It seems almost needless to add that this doggerel was followed by a
round of applause, and that Chief Justice Charles P. Daly and Judge
Joseph F. Daly, as well as Judge George M. Van Hoesen, who were on the
bench at this time, joined in the merriment.
The commencement exercises of Columbia College, as I remember them, took
place every summer in St. John's Church opposite St. John's Park, and I
often attended them in my early days. Columbia College at this period
was in the lower part of the city between College and Park Places, and
was the original King's College of colonial days. All of the professors
lived in the college buildings in a most unostentatious manner, and I
readily recall frequent instances during my early childhood when, in
company with my father, I walked to the college and took a simple six
o'clock supper with Professor Anthon and his sisters.
My mother met my father while visiting in New York, and the acquaintance
eventually resulted in a runaway marriage. They were married on the 10th
of June, 1818, and nine days later the following notice appeared in _The
National Advocate_:
_Married._
At Flushing, L.I., by the Rev. Mr. [Barzilla] Buckley, James
Campbell esq. of this city, to Miss Mary Ann Hazard,
daughter of John Hazard, esq. of Jamaica, Long Island.
The objection of my Grandfather Hazard to my mother's marriage was not
unnatural, as she was his only child, and being at this time well
advanced in years he dreaded the separation. But the happy bride
immediately brought her husband to live in the old home where she had
been born, where the young couple began their married life under
pleasing auspices, and my father continued his practice of law in New
York. I had the misfortune of being a second daughter. Traditionally, I
know that my grandfather most earnestly desired a grandson at that time,
and when the nurse announced my birth, she was not sufficiently
courageous to tell the truth, and said: "A boy, sir!" Her faltering
manner possibly betrayed her, as the sarcastic retort was: "I dare say,
an Irish boy."
My ambitious parents sent me with my oldest sister, Fanny, at the early
age of four, to a school in the village of Jamaica conducted by Miss
Delia Bacon. My recollection of events occurring at this early period is
not very vivid, but I still recall the vision of three beautiful women,
Delia, Alice and Julia Bacon, who presided over our school. This
interesting trio were nieces of the distinguished author and divine, the
Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon, who for fifty-seven years was pastor of the
First Congregational Church of New Haven. Many years subsequent to my
school days, Delia Bacon became, as is well known, an enthusiastic
advocate of the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare's plays. I have
understood that she made a pilgrimage to Stratford-on-Avon hoping to
secure the proper authority to reopen Shakespeare's grave, a desire,
however, that remained ungratified. She was a woman of remarkable
ability, and I have in my possession the book, written by her nephew,
which tells the story of her life. I was Miss Bacon's youngest pupil,
and attended school regularly in company with my sister, whither we were
driven each morning in the family carriage. My studies were not
difficult, and my principal recollection is my playing out of doors with
a dog named Sancho, while the older children were busy inside with their
studies.
During my Long Island life, as a very young child, I was visiting my
aunts in Jay Street, New York, when I was taken to Grant Thorburn's seed
shop in Maiden Lane, which I think was called "The Arcade." There was
much there to delight the childish fancy--canaries, parrots, and other
birds of varied plumage. Thorburn's career was decidedly unusual. He
was born in Scotland, where he worked in his father's shop as a
nailmaker. He came to New York in 1794 and for a time continued at his
old trade. He then kept a seed store and, after making quite a fortune,
launched into a literary career and wrote under the _nom de plume_ of
"Laurie Todd."
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Now Rutgers College.
CHAPTER II
NEW YORK AND SOME NEW YORKERS
About 1828 my parents moved to New York, and immediately occupied the
house, No. 6 Hubert Street, purchased by my father, and pleasantly
located a short distance from St. John's Park, then the fashionable
section of the city. This park was always kept locked, but it was the
common play-ground of the children of the neighborhood, whose families
were furnished with keys, as is the case with Gramercy Park to-day. St.
John's Church overlooked this park, and the houses on the other three
sides of the square were among the finest residences in the city. Many
of them were occupied by families of prominence, among which were those
of Watts, Gibbes, Kemble, Hamilton and Smedberg. Next door to us on
Hubert Street lived Commander, subsequently Rear Admiral, Charles
Wilkes, U.S.N., and his young family. His first wife was Miss Jane
Jeffrey Renwick, who was a sister of Professor James Renwick of Columbia
College, and after her death he married Mary Lynch, a daughter of Henry
Lynch of New York and the widow of Captain William Compton Bolton of the
Navy. This, of course, was previous to his naval achievements, which are
such well known events in American history. In after life Admiral and
Mrs. Wilkes moved to Washington, D.C., where I renewed my friendship of
early days and where members of his family still reside, beloved and
respected by the whole community.
Mr. Thomas S. Gibbes of South Carolina, whose wife was Miss Susan
Annette Vanden Heuvel, daughter of John C. Vanden Heuvel, a wealthy
land owner, lived on Hudson Street, facing St. John's Park. Their elder
daughter Charlotte Augusta, who married John Jacob Astor, son of William
B. Astor, was an early playmate of mine, and many pleasant memories of
her as a little girl cluster around St. John's Park, where we romped
together. When I first knew the Gibbes family it had recently returned
from a long residence in Paris, an unusual experience in these days, and
both Charlotte Augusta and her younger sister, Annette Gibbes, sang in a
very pleasing manner French songs, which were a decided novelty to our
juvenile ears. Mrs. Gibbes's sisters were Mrs. Gouverneur S. Bibby and
Mrs. John C. Hamilton.
Directly opposite St. John's Park, on the corner of Varick and Beach
streets, was Miss Maria Forbes's school for young girls, which was the
fashionable school of the day. I attended it in company with my sister
Fanny and my brother James who was my junior. Miss Forbes occasionally
admitted boys to her school when accompanied by older sisters. Our life
there was regulated in accordance with the strictest principles of
learning and etiquette, and a child would have been deficient indeed who
failed to acquire knowledge under the tuition of such an able teacher.
School commenced promptly at eight o'clock and continued without
intermission until three.
The principal of the school was the daughter of John Forbes, who for
thirty years was the librarian of the New York Society Library. He was a
native of Aberdeen in Scotland, and was brought to this country in
extreme youth by a widowed mother of marked determination and piety,
with the intention of launching him successfully in life. He early
displayed a fondness for books, and must have shown an uncommon maturity
of mind and much executive ability, as he was only nineteen when he was
appointed to the position just named. It is an interesting fact that he
accepted the librarianship in 1798 with a salary of two hundred and
fifty dollars a year in addition to the fines and two and a half per
cent. upon all moneys collected, besides the use or rental of the lower
front room of the library building. After many years of labor his salary
was raised to five hundred dollars. Upon his death in October, 1824, the
trustees, out of respect to his memory, voted to attend his funeral in a
body and ordered the library closed for the remaining four days of the
week. He married Miss Martha Skidmore, daughter of Lemuel Skidmore, a
prominent iron and steel merchant of New York, and I have no doubt that
Maria Forbes, their daughter and my early teacher, inherited her
scholarly tastes from her father, of whom Dr. John W. Francis in his
"Old New York" justly speaks as a "learned man."
Miss Forbes was a pronounced disciplinarian, and administered one form
of punishment which left a lasting impression upon my memory. For
certain trivial offenses a child was placed in a darkened room and
clothed in a tow apron. One day I was subjected to this punishment for
many hours, an incident which naturally I have never yet been able to
forget. On the occasion referred to Miss Forbes was obliged to leave the
schoolroom for a few minutes and, unfortunately for my happiness,
appointed my young brother James to act as monitor during her absence.
His first experience in the exercise of a little authority evidently
turned his head, for upon the return of our teacher I was reported for
misbehavior. The charge against me was that I had smiled. It is too long
ago to remember whether or not it was a smile of derision, but upon
mature reflection I think it must have been. I knew, however, in my
childish heart that I had committed no serious offense and, as can
readily be imagined, my indignation was boundless. It was the first act
of injustice I had ever experienced. Feeling that the punishment was
undeserved, and smarting under it, with abundance of leisure upon my
hands, I bit the tough tow apron into many pieces. When Miss Forbes
after a few hours, which seemed to me an eternity, came to relieve me
from my irksome position and noticed the condition of the apron, she
regaled me with a homily upon the evils of bad temper, and gave as
practical illustrations the lives of some of our most noted criminals,
all of whom had expiated their crimes upon the gallows.
In recalling these early school days it seems to me that the rudiments
of education received far more attention then than now. Spelling was
regarded as of chief importance and due consideration was given to
grammar. There were no "frills" then, such as physical culture, manual
training and the like, and vacation lasted but thirty days, usually
during the month of August. Some of my earliest friendships were formed
at Miss Forbes's school, many of which I have retained through a long
life. Among my companions and classmates were the Tillotsons, Lynches,
Astors, Kembles, Hamiltons, Duers, and Livingstons.
But in spite of the severe discipline of Miss Forbes's school, her
pupils occasionally engaged in current gossip. It was in her schoolroom
I first made the discovery that this earth boasted of such valuable
adjuncts to the human family as title-bearing gentlemen, and in this
particular case it was a live Count that was brought to my notice. Count
Louis Fitzgerald Tasistro had recently arrived in New York, and his
engagement to Adelaide Lynch, a daughter of Judge James Lynch, of an old
New York family, was soon announced. On the voyage to America he had
made the acquaintance of a son of Lord Henry Gage of England, whose
principal object in visiting this country was to make the acquaintance
of his kinsman, Mr. Gouverneur Kemble. Through his instrumentality
Tasistro was introduced into New York's most exclusive set, and soon
became the lion of the hour. We girls discussed the engagement and
subsequent marriage of the distinguished foreigner (_sub rosa_, of
course), and to our childish vision pictured a wonderful career for this
New York girl. The marriage, however, soon terminated unfortunately, and
to the day of his death Tasistro's origin remained a mystery. He was an
intellectual man of fine presence and skilled in a number of foreign
languages. He claimed he was a graduate of Dublin College. Many years
later, after I had become more familiar with title-bearing foreigners,
Tasistro again crossed my path in Washington, where he was acting as a
translator in the State Department; but after a few years, owing to an
affection of the eyes, he was obliged to give up this position, and his
condition was one of destitution. Through the instrumentality of my
husband he obtained an annuity from his son, whom, by the way, he never
knew; and for some years, in a spirit of gratitude, taught my children
French. His last literary effort was the translation of the first two
volumes of the Comte de Paris's "History of the Civil War in America."
His devotion to my husband was pathetic, and I have frequently heard the
Count say during the last years of his life that he never met him
without some good fortune immediately following.
After Mr. Gouverneur's death I received the following letter from
Tasistro, which is so beautiful in diction that I take pleasure in
inserting it:
WASHINGTON, April 26, 1880.
My dear Mrs. Gouverneur,
Had I obeyed implicitly the impulses of my heart, or been
less deeply affected by the great loss which will ever
render the 5th of April a day of sad & bitter memories to
me, I should perhaps have been more expeditious in rendering
to you the poor tribute of my condolence for the terrible
bereavement which it has pleased the Supreme Ruler of all
things to afflict you with.
My own particular grief in thus losing the best & most
valued friend I ever had on earth, receives additional
poignancy from the fact that, although duly impressed with
an abiding sense of the imperishable obligation, conferred
upon me by my lamented friend, I have been debarred, by my
own physical infirmities, from proffering those services
which it would have afforded me so much consolation to
perform.
I should be loath, however, to start on my own journey for
that shadowy land whose dim outlines are becoming daily more
& more visible to my mental eye, without leaving some kind
of record attesting to the depth of my appreciation of all
the noble attributes which clustered around your husband's
character--of my intense & lasting gratitude for his
generous exertions in my behalf, & my profound sympathy for
you personally in this hour of sorrow & affliction.
Hoping that you may find strength adequate to the emergency,
I remain, with great respect,
Your devoted servant,
L. F. TASISTRO.
A valued friend of my father's was Dr. John W. Francis, the "Doctor
Sangrado" of this period, who, with other practitioners of the day,
believed in curing all maladies by copious bleeding and a dose of
calomel. He was the fashionable physician of that time and especially
prided himself upon his physical resemblance to Benjamin Franklin. He
had much dramatic ability of a comic sort, and I have often heard the
opinion expressed that if he had adopted the stage as a profession he
would have rivalled the comedian William E. Burton, who at this time was
delighting his audiences at Burton's Theater on Chambers Street. In my
early life when Dr. Francis was called to our house professionally the
favorite dose he invariably prescribed for nearly every ailment was
"calomel and jalap."
One day during school hours at Miss Forbes's I was suddenly summoned to
return to my home. I soon discovered after my arrival that I was in the
presence of a tribunal composed of my parents and Dr. Francis. I was
completely at a loss to understand why I was recalled with, what seemed
to me, such undue haste, as I was entirely unconscious of any
misdemeanor. I soon discovered, however, that I was in great trouble. It
seems that a young girl from Santa Cruz, a boarding pupil at our school,
had died of a malady known at this period as "iliac passion," but now as
appendicitis. Her attending physician was Dr. Ralph I. Bush, a former
surgeon in the British Navy, and I soon learned to my dismay that I was
accused of having made an indiscreet remark in regard to his management
of my schoolmate's case, although to this day I have never known exactly
how Dr. Francis, as our family physician, was involved in the affair. I
stood up as bravely as I could under a rigid cross-examination, but,
alas! I had no remembrance whatever of making any remark that could
possibly offend. At any rate, Dr. Bush had given Dr. Francis to
understand that he was ready to settle the affair according to the
approved method of the day; but Dr. Francis was a man of peace, and had
no relish for the code. Possibly, with the reputed activity of Sir
Lucius O'Trigger, Dr. Bush had already selected his seconds, as I have
seldom seen a man more unnerved than Dr. Francis by what proved after
all to be only a trifling episode. Soon after my trying interview,
however, explanations followed, and the two physicians amicably adjusted
the affair.
It seems that this unfortunate entanglement arose from a
misunderstanding. There were two cases of illness at Miss Forbes's
school at the same time, the patient of Dr. Bush already mentioned and
another child suffering from a broken arm whom Dr. Francis attended. He
set the limb but, as he was not proficient as a surgeon, the act was
criticized by the schoolgirls within my hearing. My sense of loyalty to
my family doctor caused me to utter some childish remark in his defense
which was possibly to the effect that he was a great deal better doctor
than Dr. Bush, who had failed to save the life of our late schoolmate.
In recalling this childish episode which caused me so much anxiety I am
surprised that such unnecessary attention was paid to the passing remark
of a mere child.
Dr. Francis was as proficient in quoting wise maxims as Benjamin
Franklin, whom he was said to resemble. One of them which I recall is
the epitome of wisdom: "If thy hand be in a lion's mouth, get it out as
fast as thou canst."
I may here state, by the way, that in close proximity to Dr. Francis's
residence on Bond Street lived Dr. Eleazer Parmly, the fashionable
dentist of New York. He stood high in public esteem and a few still
living may remember his pleasing address. He accumulated a large fortune
and I believe left many descendants.
The girls at Miss Forbes's school were taught needle work and
embroidery, for in my early days no young woman's education was regarded
as complete without these accomplishments. I quote from memory an
elaborate sampler which bore the following poetical effusion:
What is the blooming tincture of the skin,
To peace of mind and harmony within?
What the bright sparkling of the finest eye
To the soft soothing of a kind reply?
Can comeliness of form or face so fair
With kindliness of word or deed compare?
No. Those at first the unwary heart may gain,
But these, these only, can the heart retain.
It seems remarkable that after spending months in working such effusive
lines, or others similar to them, Miss Forbes's pupils did not become
luminaries of virtue and propriety. If they did not their failure
certainly could not be laid at the door of their preceptress.
Miss Forbes personally taught the rudiments but Mr. Luther Jackson, the
writing master, visited the school each day and instructed his scholars
in the Italian style of chirography. Mr. Michael A. Gauvain taught
French so successfully that in a short time many of us were able to
place on the amateur boards a number of French plays. Our audiences were
composed chiefly of admiring parents, who naturally viewed the
performances with paternal partiality and no doubt regarded us as
incipient Rachels. I remember as if it were only yesterday a play in
which I took one of the principal parts--"Athalie," one of Jean Racine's
plays.
This mode of education was adopted in Paris by Madame Campan, the
instructor of the French nobility as well as of royalty during the First
Empire. In her manuscript memoirs, addressed to the children of her
brother, "Citizen" Edmond Charles Genet, who was then living in America,
and of which I have an exact copy, she dwells upon the histrionic
performances by her pupils, among whom were Queen Hortense and my
husband's aunt, Eliza Monroe, daughter of President James Monroe and
subsequently the wife of Judge George Hay of Virginia. She gives a
graphic account of the Emperor attending one of these plays, when
"Esther," one of Racine's masterpieces, was performed.
The dancing master, who, of course, was an essential adjunct of every
well regulated school, was John J. Charraud. He was a refugee from Hayti
after the revolution in that island, and opened his dancing-school in
New York on Murray Street, but afterwards gave his "publics" in the City
Hall. He taught only the cotillion and the three-step waltz and came to
our school three times a week for this purpose. Much attention was given
to poetry, and I still recall the first piece I committed to memory,
"Pity the Sorrows of a Poor Old Man." My father thoroughly believed in
memorizing verse, and he always liberally rewarded me for every piece I
was able to recite. I may state, by the way, that Blair's Rhetoric was
a textbook of our school and the one which I most enjoyed.
Miss Forbes had a number of medals which the girls were allowed to wear
at stated periods for proficiency in their studies as well as for
exemplary deportment. There was one of these which was known as the
"excellence medal," and the exultant pupil upon whom it was bestowed was
allowed the privilege of wearing it for two weeks. Upon it was inscribed
the well known proverb of Solomon, "Many daughters have done virtuously,
but thou excellest them all."
Among the pleasant memories of my early life are the dinners given by my
father, when the distinguished men of the day gathered around his
hospitable board. In New York at this time all the professional cooks
and waiters in their employ were colored men. Butlers were then unknown.
It was also before the days of _à la Russe_ service, and I remember
seeing upon some of these occasions a saddle of venison, while at the
opposite end of the table there was always a Westphalia ham. Fresh
salmon was considered a _pièce de résistance_. Many different wines were
always served, and long years later in a conversation with Gov. William
L. Marcy, who was a warm friend of my father, he told me he was present
on one of these occasions when seven different varieties of wine were
served. I especially remember a dinner given by him in honor of Martin
Van Buren. He was Vice-President of the United States at the time and
was accompanied to New York by John Forsyth of Georgia, a member of
Jackson's cabinet. Some of the guests invited to meet him were Gulian C.
Verplanck, Thomas Morris, John C. Hamilton, Philip Hone and Walter
Bowne. The day previous to this dinner my father received the following
note from Mr. Van Buren:
My dear Sir,
Our friend Mr. Forsyth, is with me and you must send him an
invitation to dine with you to-morrow if, as I suppose is
the case, I am to have that honor.
Yours truly,
M. VAN BUREN.
Sunday, June 9, '33.
J. Campbell, Esq.
Martin Van Buren was a political friend of my father's from almost his
earliest manhood. Two years after he was appointed Surrogate he received
the following confidential letter from Mr. Van Buren. As will be seen,
it was before the days when he wrote in full the prefix "Van" to his
name:
_Private._
My dear Sir,
Mr. Hoyt wishes me to quiet your apprehensions on the
subject of the Elector.[2] I will state to you truly how the
matter stands. My sincere belief is that we shall succeed;
at the same time I am bound to admit that the subject is
full of difficulties. If the members were now, and without
extraneous influence, to settle the matter, the result would
be certain. But I know that uncommon exertions have been,
and are making, by the outdoor friends of Adams & Clay to
effect a co-operation of their forces in favor of a divided
ticket. Look at the "National Journal" of the 23d, and you
will find an article, prepared with care, to make influence
there. A few months ago Mr. Adams would have revolted at
such a publication. It is the desperate situation of his
affairs that has brought him to it. The friends of Clay
(allowing Adams more strength than he may have), have no
hopes of getting him (Clay) into the house, unless they get
a part of this State. The certain decline of Adams in other
parts & the uncertainty of his strength in the east alarm
his friends on the same point. Thus both parties are led to
the adoption of desperate measures. Out of N. England Adams
has now no reason to expect more than his three or four
votes in Maryland. A partial discomfiture in the east may
therefore bring him below Mr. Clay's western votes, & if it
should appear that he (Adams) cannot get into the house, the
western votes would go to Crawford. If nothing takes place
materially to change the present state of things, we hope to
defeat their plans here. But if you lose your Assembly
ticket, there is no telling the effect it may produce, & my
chief object in being thus particular with you is to conjure
your utmost attention to that subject. About the Governor's
election there is no sort of doubt. I am not apt to be
confident, & _I aver that the matter is so._ But it is to
the Assembly that interested men look, and the difference of
ten members will (with the information the members can have
when they come to act) be decisive in the opinion of the
present members as to the complexion of the next house.
There are _other points of view_ which I cannot now state to
you, in which the result I speak of may seriously affect the
main question. Let me therefore entreat your serious
attention to this matter. _Be careful of this._ Your city is
a gossiping place, & what you tell to one man in confidence
is soon in the mouths of hundreds. You can impress our
friends on this subject without connecting me with it. Do
so.
Your sincere friend,
M. V. BUREN.
Albany, Octob. 28, 1824.
James Campbell, Esq.
The Mr. Hoyt referred to in the opening sentence of this letter was
Jesse Hoyt, another political friend of my father's who, under Van
Buren's administration, was Collector of the Port of New York. During my
child life on Long Island he made my father occasional visits, and in
subsequent years lived opposite us on Hubert Street. He was the first
one to furnish me with a practical illustration of man's perfidy. As a
very young child I consented to have my ears pierced, when Mr. Hoyt
volunteered to send me a pair of coral ear-rings, but he failed to carry
out his promise. I remember reading some years ago several letters
addressed to Hoyt by "Prince" John Van Buren which he begins with "Dear
Jessica."
Table appointments at this time were most simple and unostentatious.
Wine coolers were found in every well regulated house, but floral
decorations were seldom seen. At my father's dinners, given upon special
occasions, the handsome old silver was always used, much of which
formerly belonged to my mother's family. The forks and spoons were of
heavy beaten silver, and the knives were made of steel and had ivory
handles. Ice cream was always the dessert, served in tall pyramids, and
the universal flavor was vanilla taken directly from the bean, as
prepared extracts were then unknown. I have no recollection of seeing
ice water served upon any well-appointed table, as modern facilities for
keeping it had yet to appear, and cold water could always be procured
from pumps on the premises. The castors, now almost obsolete, containing
the usual condiments, were _de rigueur_; while the linen used in our
home was imported from Ireland, and in some cases bore the coat of arms
of the United States with its motto, "_E Pluribus Unum_." My father's
table accommodated twenty persons and the dinner hour was three o'clock.
These social functions frequently lasted a number of hours, and when it
became necessary the table was lighted by lamps containing sperm oil and
candles in candelabra. These were the days when men wore ruffled shirt
fronts and high boots.
I still have in my possession an acceptance from William B. Astor, son
of John Jacob Astor, to a dinner given by my father, written upon very
small note paper and folded in the usual style of the day:
Mr. W. Astor will do himself the honor to dine with Mr.
Campbell to-day agreeable to his polite invitation.
May 28th.
James Campbell Esq.
Hubert Street.
I well remember a stag dinner given by my father when I was a child at
which one of the guests was Philip Hone, one of the most efficient and
energetic Mayors the City of New York has ever had. He is best known
to-day by his remarkable diary, edited by Bayard Tuckerman, which is a
veritable storehouse of events relating to the contemporary history of
the city. Mr. Hone had a fine presence with much elegance of manner, and
was truly one of nature's noblemen. Many years ago Arent Schuyler de
Peyster, to whom I am indebted for many traditions of early New York
society, told me that upon one occasion a conversation occurred between
Philip Hone and his brother John, a successful auctioneer, in which the
latter advocated their adoption of a coat of arms. Philip's response was
characteristic of the man: "I will have no arms except those Almighty
God has given me."
In this connection, and _àpropos_ of heraldic designs and their
accompaniments, I have been informed that the Hon. Daniel Manning,
Cleveland's Secretary of the Treasury, used upon certain of his cards of
invitation a crest with the motto, "Aquila non capit muscas" ("The eagle
does not catch flies"). This brings to my mind the following anecdote
from a dictionary of quotations translated into English in 1826 by D. N.
McDonnel: "Casti, an Italian poet who fled from Russia on account of
having written a scurrilous poem in which he made severe animadversions
on the Czarina and some of her favorites, took refuge in Austria. Joseph
II. upon coming in contact with him asked him whether he was not afraid
of being punished there, as well as in Russia, for having insulted his
high friend and ally. The bard's steady reply was 'Aquila non capit
muscas.'" Sir Francis Bacon, however, was the first in the race, as long
before either Manning or Casti were born he made use of these exact
words in his "Jurisdiction of the Marshes."
In my early days John H. Contoit kept an ice cream garden on Broadway
near White Street, and it was the first establishment of this kind, as
far as I know, in New York. During the summer months it was a favorite
resort for many who sought a cool place and pleasant society, where they
might eat ice cream under shady vines and ornamental lattice work. The
ice cream was served in high glasses, and the price paid for it was
twelve and one-half cents. Nickles and dimes were of course unknown, but
the Mexican shilling, equivalent to twelve and one-half cents, and the
quarter of a dollar, also Mexican, were in circulation.
There were no such places as lunchrooms and tearooms in my early days,
and the only restaurant of respectability was George W. Browne's "eating
house," which was largely frequented by New Yorkers. The proprietor had
a very pretty daughter, Mrs. Coles, who was brought prominently before
the public in the summer of 1841 as the heroine of an altercation
between August Belmont and Edward Heyward, a prominent South Carolinian,
followed by a duel in Maryland in which Belmont is said to have been so
seriously wounded as to retain the scars until his death.
Alexander T. Stewart's store, corner of Broadway and Chambers Street,
was the fashionable dry goods emporium, and for many years was without a
conspicuous rival. William I. Tenney, Horace Hinsdale, Henry Gelston,
and Frederick and Henry G. Marquand were jewelers. Tenney's store was on
Broadway near Murray Street; Gelston's was under the Astor House on the
corner of Barclay Street and Broadway; Hinsdale's was on the east side
of Broadway and Cortlandt Street; and the Marquands were on the west
side of Broadway between Cortlandt and Dey Streets.
James Leary bore the palm in New York as the fashionable hatter, and his
shop was on Broadway under the Astor House. As was usual then with his
craft, he kept individual blocks for those of his customers who had
heads of unusual dimensions. In his show window he sometimes exhibited a
block of remarkable size which was adapted to fit the heads of a
distinguished trio, Daniel Webster, General James Watson Webb, and
Charles Augustus Davis. Miss Anna Leary of Newport, his daughter and a
devout Roman Catholic, received the title of Countess from the Pope.
The most prominent hostelry in New York before the days of the Astor
House was the City Hotel on lower Broadway. I have been informed that
the site upon which it stood still belongs to representatives of the
Boreel family, descendants of the first John Jacob Astor. Another, but
of a later period, was the American Hotel on Broadway near the Astor
House. It was originally the town house of John C. Vanden Heuvel, a
member of one of New York's most exclusive families. Upon Mr. Vanden
Heuvel's death this house passed into the possession of his son-in-law,
John C. Hamilton, who changed it into a hotel. Its proprietor was
William B. Cozzens, who was so long and favorably known as a hotel
proprietor. At this same time he had charge of the only hotel at West
Point, and it was named after him. If any army officers survive who were
cadets during Cozzens's _régime_ they will recall with pleasure his
kindly bearing and attractive manner. Mr. Vanden Heuvel's country
residence was in the vicinity of Ninetieth Street overlooking the Hudson
River. His other daughters were Susan Annette, who married Mr. Thomas S.
Gibbes of South Carolina, and Justine, who became the wife of Gouverneur
S. Bibby, a cousin of my husband.
As I first remember Union Square it was in the outskirts of the city.
Several handsome houses had a few years previously been erected there by
James F. Penniman, the son-in-law of Mr. Samuel Judd, the latter of whom
amassed a large fortune by the manufacture and sale of oil and candles.
Miss Lydia Kane, a sister of the elder De Lancey Kane and a noted wit of
the day, upon a certain occasion was showing some strangers the sights
of New York, and in passing these houses was asked by whom they were
occupied. "That one," she responded, indicating the one in which the
Pennimans themselves lived, "is occupied by one of the _illuminati_ of
the city."
Robert L. Stuart and his brother Alexander were proprietors of a large
candy store on the corner of Chambers and Greenwich Streets, under the
firm name of R. L. & A. Stuart. Their establishment was a favorite
resort of the children of the day, who were as much addicted to sweets
as are their more recent successors. "Broken candy" was a specialty of
this firm, and was sold at a very low price. Alexander Stuart frequently
waited upon customers, and as a child I have often chattered with him
over the counter. He never married.
The principal markets were Washington on the North River, and Fulton on
the east side. The marketing was always done by the mistress of each
house accompanied by a servant bearing a large basket. During the season
small girls carried strawberries from door to door, calling out as they
went along; and during the summer months hot corn, carried in closed
receptacles made for the purpose, was sold by colored men, whose cries
could be heard in every part of the city.
Mrs. Isaac Sayre's bakery was an important shop for all housewives, and
her homemade jumbles and pound cake were in great demand. Her plum cake,
too, was exceptionally good, and it is an interesting fact that it was
she who introduced cake in boxes for weddings. Her shop survived for an
extraordinary number of years and, as far as I know, may still exist and
be kept by some of her descendants.
I must not omit to speak of a peculiar custom which in this day of
grace, when there are no longer any old women, seems rather odd. A
woman immediately after her marriage wore a cap made of some light
material, which she invariably tied with strings under her chin. Most
older women were horrified at the thought of gray hairs, and immediately
following their appearance false fronts were purchased, over which caps
were worn. I well recall that some of the most prominent women of the
day concealed fine heads of hair in this grotesque fashion. Baldheaded
men were not tolerated, and "scratches" or wigs provided the remedy.
Marriage announcements were decidedly informal. When the proper time
arrived for the world to be taken into the confidence of a young couple,
they walked upon Broadway arm in arm, thus announcing that their
marriage was imminent.
A dinner given in my young days by my parents to Mr. and Mrs. William C.
Rives still lingers in my memory. Mr. Rives had just been appointed to
his second mission to France, and with his wife was upon the eve of
sailing for his new post of duty. I remember that it was a large
entertainment, but the only guests whom I recall in addition to the
guests of honor were Mr. and Mrs. James A. Hamilton. He was a son of
Alexander Hamilton, and was at the time United States District Attorney
in New York. It seems strange, indeed, that the other guests should have
escaped my memory, but a head-dress worn by Mrs. Hamilton struck my
young fancy and I have never forgotten it. As I recall that occasion I
can see her handsome face surmounted by a huge fluffy pink cap. This Mr.
and Mrs. Hamilton were the parents of Alexander Hamilton, the third, who
married Angelica, daughter of Maturin Livingston, and who, by the way,
as I remember, was one of the most graceful dancers and noted belles of
her day.
Thomas Morris, son of Robert Morris the great financier of the
Revolution, was my father's life-long friend. He was an able
_raconteur_, and I recall many conversations relating to his early
life, a portion of which had been spent in Paris at its celebrated
Polytechnic School. One incident connected with his career is especially
interesting. When the sordid Louis Philippe, then the Duke of Orleans,
was wandering in this country, teaching in his native tongue "the young
idea how to shoot," he was the guest for a time of Mr. Morris. Several
years later when John Greig, a Scotchman and prominent citizen of
Canandaigua, New York, was about to sail for France, Mr. Morris gave him
a letter of introduction to the Duke. Upon his arrival in Havre after a
lengthy voyage he found much to his surprise that Louis Philippe was
comfortably seated upon the throne of France. Under these altered
conditions he hesitated to present his letter, but after mature
consideration sought an audience with the new King; and it is a pleasing
commentary upon human nature to add that he was welcomed with open arms.
The King had by no means forgotten the hospitality he had received in
America, and especially the many favors extended by the Morris family.
Mr. Morris's wife was Miss Sarah Kane, daughter of Colonel John Kane,
and she was beautiful even in her declining years. She also possessed
the wit so characteristic of the Kanes, who, by the way, were of Celtic
origin, being descended from John Kane who came from Ireland in 1752.
She was the aunt of the first De Lancey Kane, who married the pretty
Louisa Langdon, the granddaughter of John Jacob Astor. Their daughter,
Emily Morris, made frequent visits to our house. She was renowned for
both beauty and wit. I remember seeing several verses addressed to her,
the only lines of which I recall are as follows:
That calm collected look,
As though her pulses beat by book.
Another intimate friend of my father was Frederick de Peyster, who at a
later day became President of the New York Historical Society. He
habitually took Sunday tea with us, and always received a warm welcome
from the juvenile members of the family with whom he was a great
favorite. He was devoted to children, and delighted our young hearts by
occasional presents of game-chickens which at once became family pets.
In 1823 and 1824 my father's sympathies were deeply enlisted in behalf
of the Greeks in their struggles for independence from the Turkish rule.
It will be remembered that this was the cause to which Byron devoted his
last energies. The public sentiment of the whole country was aroused to
a high pitch of excitement, and meetings were held not only for the
purpose of lending moral support and encouragement to the Greeks, but
also for raising funds for their assistance. Among those to whom my
father appealed was his friend, Rudolph Bunner, a highly prominent
citizen of Oswego, N.Y. Although a lawyer he did not practice his
profession, but devoted himself chiefly to his extensive landed estates
in Oswego county. He was wealthy and generous, a good liver and an
eloquent political speaker. He served one term in Congress where, as
elsewhere, he was regarded as a man of decided ability. He died about
1833 at the age of nearly seventy. The distinguished New York lawyer,
John Duer, married his daughter Anne, by whom he had thirteen children,
one of whom, Anna Henrietta, married the late Pierre Paris Irving, a
nephew of Washington Irving and at one time rector of the Episcopal
church at New Brighton, Staten Island. Mr. Bunner's letter in response
to my father's appeal is not devoid of interest, and is as follows:
OSWEGO, 12 Jan'y 1824.
My dear Sir,
Though I have not written to you yet you were not so soon
forgotten. Nor can you so easily be erased from my memory as
my negligence might seem to imply. In truth few persons
have impressed my mind with a deeper sentiment of respect
than yourself; you have that of open and frank in your
character which if not in my own, is yet so congenial to my
feelings that I shall much regret if my habitual indolence
can lose me such a friend. Your request in favor of the
Greeks will be hard to comply with. If I can be a
contributor in a humble way to their success by my exertions
here they shall not want them, but I fear the _angusta res
domi_ may press too heavily upon us to permit of an
effectual benevolence. If you wanted five hundred men six
feet high with sinewy arms and case hardened constitutions,
bold spirits and daring adventurers who would travel upon a
bushel of corn and a gallon of whiskey per man from the
extreme point of the world to Constantinople we could
furnish you with them, but I doubt whether they could raise
the money to pay their passage from the gut of Gibraltar
upwards. The effort however shall be made and if we can not
shew ourselves rich we will at least manifest our good will.
Though Greece touches few Yankee settlers thro the medium of
classical associations yet a people struggling to free
themselves from foreign bondage is sure to find warm hearts
in every native of the wilderness. We admire your noble
efforts and if we do not imitate you it is because our
purses are as empty as a Boetian's skull is thick. We know
so little of what is _really_ projecting in the cabinets of
Europe that we are obliged to believe implicitly in
newspaper reports, and we are perhaps foolish in hoping that
the Holy Alliance intends to take the Spanish part of the
New World under their protection. In such an event our
backwoodsmen would spring with the activity of squirrels to
the assistance of the regenerated Spaniards and perhaps
_there_ we might fight more effectually the battle for
universal Freedom than either at Thermopylæ or Marathon.
There indeed we might strike a blow that would break up the
deep foundations of despotic power so as that neither art or
force could again collect and cement the scattered elements.
We are too distant from Greece to make the Turks feel our
physical strength and what we can do thro money and
sympathy is little in comparison with what we could if they
were so near as that we might in addition pour out the tide
of an armed northern population to sweep their shores and
overcome the tyrants like one of their pestilential winds.
Nevertheless, sympathy is a wonderful power and the sympathy
of a free nation like our own will not lose its moral
effect. I calculate strongly on this. It is a more refined
and rational kind of chivalry--this interest and activity in
the fate of nations struggling to break the oppressor's rod,
and it should be encouraged even where it is not directed so
as to give it all adequate force. They who would chill it,
who would reason about the why and the wherefore ought to
recollect that such things can not be called forth by the
art of man--they must burst spontaneously from his nature
and be directed by his wisdom for the benefit of his
kind.... We are all here real Radical Democrats and though
some of us came in at the eleventh hour we will not go back,
but on--on--on though certain of missing the penny fee. In
truth this is the difference between real conviction and the
calculating policy which takes sides according to what it
conceives the vantage ground. A converted politician is as
obstinate in his belief as one born in the faith. The man of
craft changes his position according to the varying aspect
of the political heavens. The one plays a game--the other
sees as much of reality (or thinks he sees) in politicks as
he does in his domestic affairs and is as earnest in the one
as the other.
Salve--[Greek: Kai Chaire]
R. BUNNER.
8 o'clock.
I have had a full meeting for your Greeks--and found my men
of more mettle than I hoped for. We will do something thro
the _Country_--We have set the Parsons to work and one
shilling a head will make a good donation. We think we can
give you 4 or 5 hundred dollars.
Mr. Bunner was over sixty years old when he went to live in Oswego, but
he soon became identified with the interests of the place and added much
by his activities to its local renown. In an undated letter to my
father, he thus expatiates upon his situation in his adopted home, and
paints its advantages in no uncertain colors:--
I am here unquestionably an exile but I will never dispond
at my fate nor whimper because my own folly, want of tact or
the very malice of the times have placed me in Patmos when I
desire a more splendid theatre. I can here be useful to my
family--to my district. I can live cheaply, increase my
fortune, be upon a par with the best of my neighbors, which
I prefer to the feasts of your ostentatious mayor or the
more real luxury of Phil Brasher's Table. Our population is
small, our society contracted, but we are growing rapidly in
numbers; and the society we have is in my opinion and to my
taste fully equal to anything in your home. We possess men
of intelligence without pretention, active men as Jacob
Barker without his roguery--men whom nature intended to
flourish at St. James, but whose fate fortune in some fit of
prolifick humor fixed and nailed to this Sinope. We have
however to mitigate the cold spring breezes of the lake a
fall unrivalled in mildness and in beauty even in Italy, the
land of poetry and passion. We have a whole lake in front,
whose clear blue waters are without a parallel in Europe. We
have a beautiful river brawling at our feet, the banks of
which gently slope and when our village is filled I will
venture to say that in point of beauty, health and variety
of prospect it has _nil simile aut secundum_.
Our house was the rendezvous of many of the learned and literary men of
the day, who would sit for hours in the library discussing congenial
topics. Among others I well recall the celebrated jurist, Ogden Hoffman.
He had an exceptionally melodious voice, and I have often heard him
called "the silver-tongued orator." It has been asserted that in
criminal cases a jury was rarely known to withstand his appeal. He
married for his second wife Virginia E. Southard, a daughter of Judge
Samuel L. Southard of New Jersey, who throughout Monroe's two
administrations was Secretary of War. In the "Wealthy Citizens of New
York," edited in 1845 by Moses Y. Beach, an early owner in part of _The
New York Sun_, the Hoffman family is thus described: "Few families, for
so few a number of persons as compose it, have cut 'a larger swath' or
'bigger figure' in the way of posts and preferment. Talent, and also
public service rendered, martial gallantry, poetry, judicial acumen,
oratory, all have their lustre mingled with this name." I regard this
statement as just and truthful.
Still another valued associate of my father was Hugh Maxwell, a
prominent member of the New York bar. In his earlier life he was
District Attorney and later Collector of the Port of New York. The
Maxwells owned a pleasant summer residence at Nyack-on-the-Hudson, where
we as children made occasional visits. Many years later one of my
daughters formed an intimate friendship with Hugh Maxwell's
granddaughter, Virginia De Lancey Kearny, subsequently Mrs. Ridgely
Hunt, which terminated only with the latter's death in 1897.
From my earliest childhood Gulian C. Verplanck was a frequent guest at
our house. He and my father formed an intimacy in early manhood which
lasted throughout life. Mr. Verplanck was graduated from Columbia
College in 1801, the youngest Bachelor of Arts who, up to that time, had
received a diploma from that institution of learning. Both he and my
father found in politics an all-absorbing topic of conversation,
especially as both of them took an active part in state affairs. I have
many letters, one of them written as early as 1822, from Mr. Verplanck
to my father bearing upon political matters in New York. For four terms
he represented his district in Congress, while later he served in the
State Senate and for many years was Vice Chancellor of the University of
the State of New York. He was an ardent Episcopalian and a vestryman in
old Trinity Parish. He was a brilliant conversationalist, and his
tastes, like my father's, were decidedly literary. In connection with
William Cullen Bryant and Robert C. Sands, he edited _The Talisman_, an
annual which continued through the year 1827. Mr. Verplanck lived to an
old age and survived my father for a long time, but he did not forget
his old friend. Almost a score of years after my father's death, on the
4th of July, 1867, Mr. Verplanck delivered a scholarly oration before
the Tammany Society of New York, in which he paid the following glowing
tribute to his memory:
In those days James Campbell, for many years the Surrogate
of this city, was a powerful leader at Tammany Hall, and
from character and mind alone, without any effort or any act
of popularity. He was not college-bred, but he was the son
of a learned father, old Malcolm Campbell, who had been
trained at Aberdeen, the great school of Scotch Latinity.
James Campbell was, like his father, a good classical
scholar, and he was a sound lawyer. He was not only an
assiduous, a kind, sound and just magistrate, but one of
unquestioned ability. In his days of Surrogateship, the days
of universal reporting, either in the multitudinous volumes
in white law bindings on the shelves of lawyers, or in the
crowded columns of the daily papers, had not quite arrived
though they were just at hand. Had he lived and held office
a few years later, I do not doubt that he would have ranked
with the great luminaries of legal science. As it is, I fear
that James Campbell's reputation must share the fate of the
reputations of many able and eminent men in all professions
who can not
Look to Time's award,
Feeble tradition is their memory's guard.
The most prominent newspaper in New York in my early days was the
_Courier and Enquirer_, edited by General James Watson Webb, a man of
distinguished ability. He began his literary career by editing the
_Morning Courier_, but as this was not a very successful venture he
purchased the _New York Enquirer_ from Mordecai Manasseh Noah, and in
1829 merged the two papers. Several leading journalists began their
active careers in his office, among others James Gordon Bennett,
subsequently editor of _The New York Herald_, Henry J. Raymond, the
founder of _The New York Times_, and Charles King, father of Madam Kate
King Waddington and Mrs. Eugene Schuyler, who at one time edited _The
American_ and subsequently became the honored president of Columbia
College. James Reed Spaulding, a New Englander by birth, was also
connected with the _Courier and Enquirer_ for about ten years. In 1860
he became a member of the staff of the New York _World_, which, by the
way, was originally intended to be a semi-religious sheet. During
President Lincoln's administration General Webb sold the _Courier and
Enquirer_ to the _World_, and the two papers were consolidated. William
Seward Webb of New York was a son of this General Webb, and the latter's
daughter, Mrs. Catharine Louisa Benton, the widow of Colonel James G.
Benton of the army, lived until recently in Washington, and is one of
the pleasant reminders left me of the old days of my New York life.
_The New York Herald_ was established some years after the _Courier and
Enquirer_ and was from the first a flourishing sheet. It was
exceptionally spicy, and it dealt so much in personalities that my
father, who was a gentleman of the old school with very conservative
views, was not, to say the least, one of its strongest admirers. Several
years before the Civil War, at a time when the anti-slavery cauldron was
at its boiling point, its editor, the elder James Gordon Bennett,
dubbed its three journalistic contemporaries in New York, the World, the
Flesh, and the Devil--the _World_, representing human life with all its
pomps and vanities; the _Times_, as a sheet as vacillating as the flesh;
and the _Tribune_, as the virulent champion of abolition, the
counterpart of the Devil himself.
During the winter of 1842 James Gordon Bennett took his bride, who was
Miss Henrietta Agnes Crean of New York, to Washington on their wedding
journey. As this season had been unusually severe, great distress
prevailed, and a number of society women organized a charity ball for
the relief of the destitute. It was given under the patronage of Mrs.
Madison (the ex-President's widow), Mrs. Samuel L. Gouverneur (my
husband's mother), Mrs. Benjamin Ogle Tayloe (Julia Maria Dickinson of
Troy, New York), and other society matrons, and, as can readily be
understood, was a financial as well as a social success. Tickets were
eagerly sought, and Mr. Bennett applied for them for his wife and
himself. At first he was refused, but after further consideration Mrs.
Madison and Mrs. Gouverneur of the committee upon invitations granted
his request on condition that no mention of the ball should appear in
the columns of the _Herald_. Mr. Bennett and his wife accordingly
attended the entertainment, where the latter was much admired and danced
to her heart's content. Two days later, however, much to the chagrin and
indignation of the managers, an extended account of the ball appeared in
the _Herald_. This incident will be better appreciated when I state that
at this time the personal mention of a woman in a newspaper was an
unheard-of liberty. It was the old-fashioned idea that a woman's name
should occur but twice in print, first upon the occasion of her marriage
and subsequently upon the announcement of her death. My husband once
remarked to me, upon reading a description of a dress worn by one of my
daughters at a ball, that if such a notice had appeared in a newspaper
in connection with his sister he or his father would have thrashed the
editor.
John L. O'Sullivan, a prominent literary man and in subsequent years
minister to Portugal, edited a periodical called the _Democratic
Review_, which was published in magazine form. I well recall the first
appearance of _Harper's Magazine_ in June, 1850, and that for some time
it had but few illustrations. _The Evening_ Post was established in
1801, many years prior to the _Courier and Enquirer_. It was always
widely read, was democratic in its tone, and its editorials were highly
regarded. While I lived in New York, and also much later, it was edited
by William Cullen Bryant, who was as gifted as an editor as he was as a
poet. I have before me now a reprint of the first issue of this paper,
dated Monday, November 16, 1801. I copy some of the advertisements, as
many old New York names are represented:
FOR SALE BY HOFFMAN & SETON
Twelve hhds. assorted Glass Ware.
2 boxes Listadoes,
1 trunk white Kid Gloves,
200 boxes Soap & Candles,
60 bales Cinnamon, entitled to drawback.
Nov. 16.
* * * * *
FREIGHT
For Copenhagen or Hamburgh,
The bark BERKKESKOW, Capt.
Gubriel Tothammer, is ready to receive
freight for either of the above places, if application
is made to the Captain on board, at Gouverneur's
Wharf.
GOUVERNEUR & KEMBLE.
* * * * *
FOR SALE
Gin in pipes; large and small green Bottle
Cases, complete; Glass Ware, consisting of
Tumblers, Decanters, &c.; Hair Brushes, long and
short; black and blue Dutch Cloth; Flour, by
FREDERICK DE PEYSTER.
A STORE HOUSE in Broad-street to let, apply
as above. Nov. 16.
* * * * *
THE SUBSCRIBER has for sale, remaining from
the cargo of the ship Sarson, from Calcutta,
an assortment of WHITE PIECE GOODS.
Also
50 tierces Rice, 60 hhds. Jamaica Rum,
15 bales Sea-Island 10,000 Pieces White
Cotton, Nankeens,
29 tierces and 34 bls. A quantity of Large
Jamaica Coffee, Bottles in cases,
And as usual, Old
Madeira Wine, fit for immediate use.
ROBERT LENOX.
FOOTNOTES:
[2] Possibly this word is "Election."
CHAPTER III
SCHOOL-DAYS AND EARLY FRIENDS
I must return to my school days. After several years spent at Miss
Forbes's my parents decided to afford me greater advantages for study,
and especially for becoming more proficient in the French language, and
I was accordingly sent to Madame Eloise Chegaray's institution, which
for many years was regarded as the most prominent girls' school in the
country. It was a large establishment located on the corner of Houston
and Mulberry Streets, where she accommodated boarding pupils as well as
day scholars. Many years later this building was sold to the religious
order of the _Sacre Coeur_. The school hours were from nine until three,
with an intermission at twelve o'clock. The vacation, as at Miss
Forbes's, was limited to the month of August. The discipline was not so
rigid as at Miss Forbes's, as Madame Chegaray, who, by the way, taught
her pupils to address her as _Tante_, governed almost entirely by
affection. She possessed unusual grace of manner and great kindness of
heart, and her few surviving pupils hold her name and memory in the
highest esteem. Her early history is of exceptional interest. She was a
daughter of Pierre Prosper Désabaye, and came with her father and the
other members of his family from Paris to New York on account of his
straitened circumstances, caused by an insurrection in San Domingo,
where his family owned large estates. Madame Chegaray commenced as a
mere girl to teach French in a school in New Brunswick, New Jersey, kept
by Miss Sophie Hay, and was retained on account of the extreme purity of
her accent.
I chance to have in my possession Madame Chegaray's own account of her
early struggles after leaving Miss Hay, from which I take great pleasure
in quoting:
Among the royal _émigrés_ to this country was the Countess
de St. Memin who kept a school. As my brother Marc had
removed to New York we joined him and I was employed as
French governess in the school of Mademoiselle de St. Memin.
But I still knew nothing but to speak my own native tongue.
One day I was bewailing my ignorance in the presence of M.
Felix de Beaujour, Consul General of France to this country.
"Mlle. Eloise," he said, "quand on sait lire on peut
toujours s'istruire."
This gave me a new thought. I set seriously about studying.
I took classes. What I was to teach on the morrow I studied
the night before. I worked early and late. With the return
of Louis Philippe the St. Memins returned to France and I
became a teacher in the school of Madame Nau. Here I studied
and taught. On me fell all the burden of the school while
Madame Nau amused herself with harp and piano. For this I
had only $150 a year. To further assist my family I knit
woolen jackets. They were a great deal of trouble to me and
I was very grateful to Madame Isaac Iselin, the mother of
Mr. Adrain Iselin, who always found purchasers to give me
excellent prices. Ah, I was young then. I thought that I
earned that money. Now I know that it was only her delicate
manner of doing me a service. Madame Iselin bought my
jackets and then gave them away.
Feeling that I was worth much to Madame Nau, and that I must
do more to relieve my brother Marc, my brother Gustave
having gone to sea with Captain de Peyster, I begged Madame
Nau to give me $250. This she refused. Her reply, "Me navra
le coeur," overwhelmed me. It was Saturday. I started home
in great distress and met on the way the dear admirable Miss
Sophy Hay to whom I told my sorrow.
"Miss Hay," I exclaimed, "I will open a school for myself."
She tapped me on the forehead. "Do, dear Eloise, and God
will help you."
How all difficulties were smoothed away! The dear Madame
Iselin took charge of all my purchases, advancing the money.
They were very simple, those splint chairs and carpets and
tables, for we were simpler-minded then. On the 1st of May
1814 I opened my school on Greenwich Street with sixteen
pupils. Good M. Roulet gave me his two wards. I received
several scholars from a convent just closed and I had my
nieces Améline and Laura Bérault de St. Maurice and Clara
the daughter of Marc [Désabaye], who afterward married Ponty
Lemoine, the lawyer in whose office Charles O'Conor studied.
Thus was my school started, and I take this occasion to
express my gratitude to those who confided in so young an
instructress--for I was only twenty-two--the education of
their daughters, and I pray God to bless them and their
country....
Many well-known women were educated at this school, and one of the first
pupils was Miss Sarah Morris, the granddaughter of Lewis Morris, the
Signer, and the mother of the senior Mrs. Hamilton Fish. A younger
sister of Mrs. Fish, Christine, who many years later was a pupil of
Madame Chegaray, and who is now Mrs. William Preston Griffin of New
York, ministered to Madame Chegaray in her last illness, and told me
that her parting words to her were, "_Adieu, chère Christine, fidèle
amie._" In spite of her extreme youth Madame Chegaray took an
exceptionally serious view of life, even refusing to wear flowers in her
bonnets or to sing, although she had a very sweet voice. She dearly
loved France, but she was a broad-minded woman and her knowledge of
American affairs was as great as that of her own country. She rounded
out nearly a century of life, the greater part of which was devoted to
others, and I pay her the highest tribute in my power when I say that
she faced the many vicissitudes of life with an undaunted spirit, and
bequeathed to her numerous pupils the inestimable boon of a wonderful
example.
All the teachers in Madame Chegaray's school were men, with the single
exception of Mrs. Joseph McKee, the wife of a Presbyterian clergyman.
Among those who taught were John Bigelow, who is still living in New
York at an advanced age, and who in subsequent years was Secretary of
State of New York and our Minister to France; Thatcher T. Payne; Edward
G. Andrew, who became in the course of years a Bishop in the Methodist
Church; Professor Robert Adrain, who taught mathematics, and who at the
same time was one of the faculty of Columbia College; and Lorenzo L. da
Ponte. The latter was a man of unusual versatility, and was especially
distinguished as a linguist. He taught us English literature in such a
successful manner that we regarded that study merely as a recreation.
Mr. da Ponte was a son of Lorenzo da Ponte, a Venitian of great
learning, who after coming to this country rendered such conspicuous
services in connection with Dominick Lynch in establishing Italian opera
in New York. He was also a professor of Italian for many years in
Columbia College, the author of a book of sonnets, several works
relating to the Italian language and of his own life, which was
published in three volumes. Mr. Samuel Ward, a noted character of the
day, the brother of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe and who married Emily Astor,
daughter of William B. Astor, wrote an interesting memoir of him. Madame
Chegaray taught the highest classes in French. "If I had to give up all
books but two," she was fond of saying, "I would choose the Gospels and
La Fontaine's Fables. In one you have everything necessary for your
spiritual life; in the other you have the epitome of all worldly
wisdom."
When I entered Madame Chegaray's school she had about a hundred pupils,
a large number of whom were from the Southern States. How well I
remember the extreme loyalty of the Southern girls to their native soil!
I can close my eyes and read the opening sentence of a composition
written by one of my comrades, Elodie Toutant, a sister of General
Pierre G. T. Beauregard of the Confederate Army--"The South, the South,
the beautiful South, the garden spot of the United States." This
chivalric devotion to the soil whence they sprang apparently was
literally breathed into my Southern school companions from the very
beginning of their lives. Their loyalty possessed a fascination for me,
and although I was born, reared and educated in a Northern State, I had
a tender feeling for the South, which still lingers with me, for most of
the friendships I formed at Madame Chegaray's were with Southern girls.
My first day at Madame Chegaray's, like many other beginnings, was
something of an ordeal, but it was my good fortune to meet almost
immediately Henrietta Croom, a daughter of Henry B. Croom, a celebrated
botanist of North Carolina, but who, with his family, had spent much of
his life in Tallahassee. Many are the pleasant hours we spent together,
but to my sorrow she graduated at an early age, and a few months later
embarked, in company with her parents, a younger brother and sister and
an aunt, Mrs. Cammack, upon a vessel called the _Home_ for Charleston,
South Carolina, where they had planned to make their future residence.
When they had been several days at sea their vessel encountered a severe
storm off Cape Hatteras, and after a brave struggle with the terrific
elements every member of the family sank with the ship within a few
miles of the spot where the Crooms had formerly lived. This occurred on
the 9th of October, 1836. They had as fellow voyagers a brother of
Madame Chegaray, who, with his wife and three children, had only just
left the school to make the voyage to Charleston. They, too, lost their
lives. Over Madame Chegaray's school as well as her household at once
hung a pall, and gloom and mourning prevailed on every side; indeed, the
whole city of New York shared in our sorrow. The newspapers of the day
were filled with accounts of this direful disaster, but there were few
survivors to tell the tale. My late playmate, Henrietta Croom, was one
of the most popular girls at school, possessing great attractions of
both mind and person, and, although at the time she was merely a child
in years, the New Year's address of a prominent daily newspaper of the
day contained an extended reference to her which strongly appealed to my
grief-stricken fancy. Though more than sixty years have passed I have
always preserved it with great care in memory of the "sweet damsel" of
long ago. The following are the lines to which I have just referred:
Dear Home! what magic trembles in the word;
Each bosom's fountain at its sound is stirred,
Disgusted worldlings dream of early love
And weary Christians turn their eyes above--
Well was't thou nam'd, fair bark, whose recent doom
Has many a household wrapt in deepest gloom!
On earth no more those voyagers' steps shall roam
That cast their anchor at an Heavenly "Home"!
High beat their hearts, when first their fated prow
Cut through the surge that boils above them now,
They saw in vision rapt their fatherland
And felt once more its odorous breezes bland--
The frozen North receded from their sight
And fancy's dream entranced them with delight--
Oh! who can tell what pangs their soul assail'd
When every hope of life and rescue fail'd,
When wild despair their throbbing bosoms wrung
And winds and waves a doleful requiem sung?
There stood the husband whose protecting arm
'Till now had kept his lov'd ones safe from harm.
Remorseless grown, the demon of the storm
Swept from his grasp her trembling, fragile form.
Vague fear o'er children's lineaments convuls'd,
But selfish hands their frenzied cling repuls'd.
When death's grim aspect meets the startl'd view
To grovelling souls fair mercy bids adieu!
And thou, sweet damsel! who in girlhood's bloom
Descended then to fill an ocean tomb--
What were _thy_ thoughts, when roaring for their prey
The foaming billows choked the watery way!
'Tis said that souls have giv'n in parting hour
A vast and fearful and mysterious power.
A chart pictorial of the past is made,
In which minute events are all portray'd--
One painful glance the scroll entire surveys
And then in death the blasted eye-balls glaze--
Perchance at that dark moment when the maid
On life's dim verge her coming doom survey'd,
Such vision flash'd across her spirit pure,
And help'd the youthful beauty to endure.
Her infant sports beneath the spreading lime,
Her recent school-days, in a northern clime--
Her gentle deeds--her treasur'd thoughts of love--
All plum'd her pinions for a flight above!
The Croom family owned large plantations in the South together with many
slaves. A short time after it was definitely known that not a member of
the family had survived, there was a legal contest over the estate by
the representatives of both sides of the household, the Crooms and the
Armisteads. Eminent members of the Southern bar were employed, among
whom were Judge John McPherson Berrien of Savannah and Joseph M. White
of Florida, often called "Florida White." After about twenty years of
litigation the suit was decided in favor of the Armisteads. It seems
that as young Croom, a lad of twelve, nearly reached the shore he was
regarded as the survivor, and his grandmother, Mrs. Henrietta Smith of
Newbern, North Carolina, his nearest living relative, became his heir. I
have always understood that this hotly contested case has since been
regarded as a judicial precedent.
A few days after receiving the news of the shipwreck of the _Home_, I
found by accident in my father's library an _édition de luxe_, just
published in London, of "Les Dames de Byron." In it was an illustration
entitled "Leila," which bore a wonderful resemblance to my best friend,
Henrietta Croom. Beneath were the following lines, which seemed to
suggest her history, and the coincidence was so apparent that I
immediately committed them to memory, and it is from memory that I now
give them:
She sleeps beneath the wandering wave;
Ah! had she but an earthly grave
This aching heart and throbbing breast
Would seek and share her narrow rest.
She was a form of life and light
That soon became a part of sight,
And rose where'er I turned mine eye--
The morning-star of memory.
Another schoolmate and friend of mine at Madame Chegaray's was Josephine
Habersham of Savannah, a daughter of Joseph Habersham and a
great-granddaughter of General Joseph Habersham, who succeeded Timothy
Pickering as Postmaster General during Washington's second term and
retained the position under Adams and Jefferson until the latter part of
1801. She was one of Madame Chegaray's star pupils in music. She
frequently made visits to my home, remaining over Saturday and Sunday,
and delighted the family by playing in a most masterly manner the
Italian music then in vogue. A few years after her return to her
Southern home she married her cousin, William Neyle Habersham, an
accomplished musician. For many years they lived in Savannah in the
greatest elegance, until the Civil War came to disturb their tranquil
dreams. Two young sons, both under twenty-one, laid down their lives for
the Southern cause during that conflict. After their great sorrow music
was their chief solace, and they delighted their friends by playing
together on various musical instruments.
New Orleans was represented at our school by a famous beauty, Catharine
Alexander Chew, a daughter of Beverly Chew, the Collector of the Port of
New Orleans, and whose wife, Miss Maria Theodosia Duer, was a sister of
President William Alexander Duer of Columbia College. He and Richard
Relf, cashier of the Louisiana State Bank, were the business partners
and subsequently the executors of the will of Daniel Clark of the same
city, and it was against them that the latter's daughter, Myra Clark
Gaines, the widow of General Edmund Pendleton Gaines, U.S.A., fought her
famous legal battles for over half a century. Miss Chew married Judge
Thomas H. Kennedy of New Orleans and left many descendants. The sister
of General Pierre G. T. Beauregard, Elodie Toutant, whom I have already
mentioned, was also from Louisiana. She was a studious girl, and a most
attractive companion. The original family name was Toutant, but towards
the close of the sixteenth century the last male descendant of the
family died, and an only surviving daughter having married Sieur Paix de
Beauregard, the name became Toutant de Beauregard, the prefix _de_
having subsequently been dropped.
Still another friendship I formed at Madame Chegaray's school was with
Elizabeth Clarkson Jay, which through life was a source of intense
pleasure to me and lasted until her pure and gentle spirit returned to
its Maker. She was the daughter of Peter Augustus Jay, a highly
respected lawyer, and a granddaughter of the distinguished statesman,
John Jay. She was a deeply religious woman, and died a few years ago in
New York after a life consecrated to good works.
One of the brightest girls in my class was Sarah Jones, a daughter of
one of New York's most distinguished jurists, Chancellor Samuel Jones.
She and another schoolmate of mine, Maria Brandegee, who lived in LeRoy
Place, were intimate and inseparable companions. The mother of the
latter belonged to a Creole family from New Orleans, named Déslonde, and
was the aunt of the wife of John Slidell of Confederate fame. The
Brandegees were devout Roman Catholics, while the members of the Jones
family were equally ardent Episcopalians. Archbishop Hughes of New York
was a welcome and frequent visitor at the Brandegee house, where, in my
younger days, I frequently had the pleasure of meeting him and listening
to his attractive conversation. In this manner Sarah Jones also came
into contact with him. Deeply impressed by his teachings, she followed
him to the Cathedral, where she soon became a regular attendant. In the
course of time she became a member of the Roman Catholic Church, and a
few years later entered the order of the _Sacre Coeur_, at
Manhattanville, where she eventually became Mother Superior and remained
as such for many years.
Quite a number of years ago I was the guest of the family of Charles
O'Conor, the distinguished jurist and leader of the New York bar, at his
handsome home at Fort Washington, a suburb of New York. He was the son
of the venerable Thomas O'Conor, editor of _The Shamrock_, the first
paper published in New York for Irish and Catholic readers, and also the
author of a history of the second war with Great Britain. One afternoon
Mr. O'Conor suggested that I should accompany him upon a drive to the
Convent of the _Sacre Coeur_ a few miles distant. He was anxious to
confer with Madame Mary Aloysia Hardey, who was then Mother Superior. I
was delighted to accept this invitation, as Mr. O'Conor was an
exceptionally agreeable companion and his spare moments were but few and
far between. Before reaching our destination, I remarked that Madame
Jones, an old schoolmate of mine, was an inmate of this Convent, and
that I should be very glad to see her again. Upon our arrival, Sarah
Jones greeted me in the parlor and seemed glad to see me after the lapse
of so many years. Leading as she was the life of a _religieuse_, our
topics of conversation were few, but I noticed that she seemed
interested in discussing her own family, about whom evidently she was
not well informed. After a brief visit and while homeward bound, Mr.
O'Conor inquired whether Madame Jones knew that her father, the
Chancellor, was rapidly approaching death. I replied that apparently she
had no knowledge of his serious condition, and several days later I saw
his death announced in a daily newspaper. Many years after my interview
with Sarah Jones I met at the residence of Mrs. Henry R. Winthrop of New
York an older sister of hers, Mary Anna Schuyler Jones, who at the time
was the widow of the Reverend Dr. Samuel Seabury of the Episcopal
Church. We lunched together, and the conversation naturally drifted back
to other days and to my old schoolmate, her sister, Sarah Jones. She
told me that she had seen but little of her in recent years, but related
a curious episode in regard to meeting her under unusual circumstances.
It seems that Mrs. Seabury, accompanied by a young daughter, was
returning from a visit to Europe, when she noticed that the occupants of
the adjoining state-room were unusually quiet. In time she made the
discovery that they were nuns returning from a business trip abroad.
Upon examination of the passenger list, she discovered to her
astonishment that her sister, Madame Jones, was occupying the adjoining
room. They met daily thereafter throughout the voyage, and afterwards
returned to their respective homes.
I especially remember an incident of my school-life which was decidedly
sensational. Sally Otis, a young and pretty girl and a daughter of James
W. Otis, then of New York but formerly of Boston, was in the same class
with me. One morning we missed her from her accustomed seat, but during
the day we learned the cause of her absence. The whole Otis family had
been taken ill by drinking poisoned coffee. Upon investigation the cook
reported that a package of coffee had been sent to the house, and,
taking it for granted that it had been ordered by some member of the
household, she had used it for breakfast. The whole matter was shrouded
in mystery, and gossip was rife. One story was that a vindictive woman
concentrated all of her malice upon a single member of the family
against whom she had a grievance and thus endangered the lives of the
whole Otis family. Fortunately, none of the cases proved fatal, but
several inmates of the house became seriously ill.
A few years before I entered Madame Chegaray's school, Virginia Scott,
the oldest daughter of Major General Winfield Scott, enjoyed _Tante's_
tutelage for a number of years. She was a rare combination of genius and
beauty, and, apart from her remarkable personality, was a skilled
linguist and an accomplished vocal and instrumental musician. This
unusual combination of gifts suggests the Spanish saying: "Mira
favorecida de Dios" ("Behold one favored of God!"). Her life, however,
was brief, though deeply interesting. In the first blush of womanhood
she accompanied her mother and sisters to Europe, and, after several
years spent in Paris, made a visit to Rome, where she immediately became
imbued with profound religious convictions. Through the instrumentality
of Father Pierce Connelly, a convert to Catholicism, she was received
into the Roman Catholic Church while in the Holy City, and made her
profession of faith in the Chapel of St. Ignatius, where the ceremony
took place by the special permission of the Most Rev. John Roothan,
General of the Jesuits. General Scott meanwhile had returned to the
United States, having been promoted to the rank of Commander-in-Chief of
the Army with headquarters in Washington. Accompanied by her mother,
Virginia Scott returned to America and, after a short time spent with
her parents in Washington, drove to Georgetown and, without their
knowledge or consent, was received there as an inmate of the "Convent of
the Visitation." Her family was bitterly opposed to the step, more
especially her mother, whose indignation was so pronounced that she
never to the day of her death forgave the Church for depriving her of
her daughter's companionship. General Scott, however, frequently visited
her in her cloistered home, and always manifested much consideration for
the Convent as well as for the nuns, the daily companions of his
daughter. Although she possessed a proud and imperious nature, combined
with great personal beauty and much natural _hauteur_, she soon became
as gentle as a lamb. She died about a year after entering the Convent,
but she retained her deep religious convictions to the last. She is
buried beneath the sanctuary in the chapel of the Georgetown Convent. In
connection with her a few lines often come to my mind which seem so
appropriate that I can not deny myself the pleasure of quoting them:
She was so fair that in the Angelic choir,
She will not need put on another shape
Than that she bore on earth.
I have heard it stated that during Virginia Scott's residence in Paris
there existed a deep attachment between herself and a young gentleman of
foreign birth. The story goes that in the course of time he became as
devoted to his religion as he had hitherto been to the beautiful
American, and that it was agreed between them that they should both
consecrate themselves thereafter to the service of God. He accordingly
entered at once upon a religious life. I have heard that they afterwards
met at a service before the altar, but that there was no recognition. As
intimate as I became with the members of the Scott family in subsequent
years, I never heard any allusion to this incident in their family
history, and I can readily understand that it was a subject upon which
they were too sensitive to dwell.
Father Connelly, whom I have mentioned in connection with Miss Scott's
conversion, began his career as an Episcopal clergyman. There was a
barrier to his becoming a Roman Catholic priest, as he was married; but
his wife soon shared in his religious ardor, and when he entered the
priesthood she became a nun. He lacked stability, however, in his
religious views, and was subsequently received again into the Episcopal
Church. It was his desire that his wife should at once join him but she
refused to leave the Convent, and she finally became the founder of the
Order of the "Sisters of the Holy Child." I have heard that he took
legal measures to obtain possession of her, but if so he was
unsuccessful in his efforts.
Another one of Madame Chegaray's distinguished pupils was Martha Pierce
of Louisville. As she attended this school some years before I entered,
I knew of her in these days only by reputation. But some years later I
had the pleasure of knowing her quite intimately, when she talked very
freely with me in regard to her eventful life. She told me that upon a
certain occasion in the days when women rarely traveled alone she was
returning to Kentucky under the care of Henry Clay, and stopped in
Washington long enough to visit the Capitol. Upon its steps she was
introduced to Robert Craig Stanard of Richmond, upon whom she apparently
made a deep impression, for one year later the handsome young Southerner
carried the Kentucky girl, at the age of sixteen, back to Virginia as
his bride. During her long life in Richmond her home, now the
Westmoreland Club, was a notable _salon_, where the _beaux esprits_ of
the South gathered. She survived Mr. Stanard many years. Beautiful, even
in old age, gifted and cultivated, her attractions of face and intellect
paled before her inexpressible charm of manner. She traveled much abroad
and especially in England. A prominent Kentuckian once told me that he
heard Washington Irving say that Mrs. Stanard received more attention
and admiration in the highest circles of English society than any other
American woman he had ever known. She corresponded for many years with
Thackeray, the Duke of Wellington and many other prominent Englishmen,
and in her own country was equally distinguished. In the course of one
of our numerous conversations she told me that after the death of Edward
Everett she loaned his biographer the letters she had received from that
distinguished orator. During the latter part of her life she gave up her
house in Richmond and came to Washington to reside, where she remained
until the end of her life. She left no descendants. Her husband's
mother, Jane Stith Craig, daughter of Adam Craig of Richmond, was
immortalized by Edgar Allan Poe, who, fictitiously naming her "Helen,"
paid feeling tribute to her charms in those beautiful verses commencing:
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
Among my other schoolmates at Madame Chegaray's were Susan Maria
Clarkson de Peyster, a daughter of James Ferguson de Peyster, who
subsequently married Robert Edward Livingston; Margaret Masters, a
daughter of Judge Josiah Masters of Troy, New York, and the wife of John
W. King; Virginia Beverly Wood, a daughter of Silas Wood of New York,
who became the wife of John Leverett Rogers; and Elizabeth MacNiel,
daughter of General John MacNiel of the Army and wife of General Henry
W. Benham of the U.S. Engineer Corps.
After a number of years spent in teaching, Madame Chegaray gave up her
New York school and moved to Madison, New Jersey (at one time called
Bottle Hill), with the intention of spending the remainder of her life
in retirement; but she was doomed to disappointment. Discovering almost
immediately that through a relative her affairs had become deeply
involved, she with undaunted courage at once opened a school in Madison
in the house which she had purchased with the view of spending there the
declining years of her life. Previous to this time I had been one of her
day scholars; I entered the second school as a boarding pupil. Once a
week we were driven three miles to Morristown to attend church. I recall
an amusing incident connected with this weekly visit to that place. One
Sunday a fellow boarder, thinking that perhaps she might find some
leisure before the service to perfect herself in her lesson for the
following day, thoughtlessly took along with her a volume of French
plays by Voltaire. During the service someone in a near pew observed the
author's name upon the book, and forthwith the Morristown populace was
startled to hear that among Madame Chegaray's pupils was a follower of
the noted infidel. It took some time to convince the public that this
book was carried to church by my schoolmate without her teacher's
knowledge; and the girl was horrified to learn that she was
unintentionally to blame for a new local scandal. While I was at Madame
Chegaray's I owned a schoolbook entitled "Shelley, Coleridge and Keats."
I brought it home with me one day, but my father took it away from me
and, as I learned later, burned it, owing to his detestation of
Shelley's moral character. On one occasion he quoted in court some
extracts from Shelley as illustrative of the poet's character, but I
cannot recall the passage.
After two years spent in Madison, Madame Chegaray returned to New York
and reopened her school on the corner of Union Square and Fifteenth
Street in three houses built for her by Samuel B. Ruggles. At that time
the omnibuses had been running only to Fourteenth Street, but, out of
courtesy to this noble woman, their route was extended to Fifteenth
Street, where a lamp for the same reason was placed by the city. Madame
Chegaray taught here for many years, but finally moved to 78 Madison
Avenue, where she remained until, on account of old age, she was obliged
to give up her teaching.
While I was still attending Madame Chegaray's school, my father, under
the impression that I was not quite as proficient in mathematics and
astronomy as it was his desire and ambition that I should be, employed
Professor Robert Adrian of Columbia College to give me private
instruction in my own home. Under his able tuition, I particularly
enjoyed traversing the firmament. I was always faithful to the planet
Venus, whose beauty was to me then, as now, a constant delight. In those
youthful days my proprietorship in this heavenly body seemed to me as
well established as in a Fifth Avenue lot, and was quite as tangible. I
regarded myself in the light of an individual proprietor, and, like
Alexander Selkirk in his far away island of the sea, my right to this
celestial domain there was none to dispute.
After the flight of so many years, and in view, also, of the fact that
sometimes the world seems to us older women to be almost turned upside
down, it may not be uninteresting to speak of some of the books which
were familiar to me during my school days. One of the first I ever read
was "Clarissa Harlowe" by Samuel Richardson. "Cecilia," by Frances
Burney, was another well-known book of the day. Mrs. Amelia Opie was
also a popular authoress, and her novel entitled "White Lies" should, in
my opinion, grace every library. Miss Maria Edgeworth and Mrs. Ann Eliza
Bray, the latter of whom so graphically depicted the higher phases of
English life, were popular authoresses in my earlier days in New York.
Many years later some of the books I have mentioned were republished by
the Harpers. "Gil Blas," whose author, Le Sage, was the skilful
delineator of human nature, its attributes and its frailties, was much
read, and, in my long journey through life, certain portions of this
book have often been recalled to me by my many and varied experiences. I
must not fail to speak of the "Children of the Abbey," by Regina M.
Roche, where the fascinations of Lord Leicester are so vividly
portrayed; nor of another book entitled "The Three Spaniards," by George
Walker, which used to strike terror to my unsophisticated soul.
When Madame Chegaray retired temporarily from her school life and moved
to Madison in New Jersey, Charles Canda, who had taught drawing for her,
established a school of his own in New York which became very prominent.
He had an attractive young daughter, who met with a most heartrending
end. On her way to a ball, in company with one of her girl friends,
Charlotte Canda was thrown from her carriage, and when picked up her
life was extinct. As there were no injuries found upon her body, it was
generally supposed that the shock brought on an attack of heart-failure.
Subsequently the disconsolate parents ordered from Italy a monument
costing a fabulous sum of money for those days, which was placed over
the grave of their only daughter in Greenwood Cemetery, where it still
continues to command the admiration of sightseers. This tragic incident
occurred in February, 1845, on the eve of the victim's seventeenth
birthday.
While Madame Chegaray was my teacher there was a charming French society
in New York, her house being the rendezvous of this interesting social
circle. I recall with much pleasure the names of Boisseau, Trudeau,
Boisaubin, Thebaud and Brugiere. Madame Chegaray's sister, Caroline,
together with her husband, Charles Bérault, who taught dancing, and
their three daughters, resided with her. The oldest, Madame Vincente
Rose Améline (Madame George R. A. Chaulet), taught music for her aunt;
the second niece, Marie-Louise Joséphine Laure, married Joseph U. F.
d'Hervilly, a Frenchman, and in after life established a school in
Philadelphia which she named Chegaray Institute; while the youngest,
Pauline, married a gentleman from Cuba, named de Ruiz, and now resides
in Paris.
CHAPTER IV
LIFE AND EXPERIENCES IN THE METROPOLIS
My health was somewhat impaired by an attack of chills and fever while I
was still a pupil at Madame Chegaray's school. Long Island was
especially affected with this malady, and even certain locations on the
Hudson were on this account regarded with disfavor. In subsequent years,
when the building operations of the Hudson River railroad cut off the
water in many places and formed stagnant pools, it became much worse. As
I began to convalesce, Dr. John W. Francis prescribed a change of air,
and I was accordingly sent to Saratoga to be under the care of my
friend, Mrs. Richard Armistead of North Carolina. A few days after my
arrival we were joined by Mrs. De Witt Clinton and her attractive
step-daughter, Julia Clinton. The United States Hotel, where we stayed,
was thronged with visitors, but as I was only a young girl my
observation of social life was naturally limited and I knew but few
persons. Mrs. Clinton was a granddaughter of Philip Livingston, the
Signer, and married at a mature age. She had a natural and most profound
admiration for the memory of her illustrious husband, whom I have heard
her describe as "a prince among men," and she cherished an undying
resentment for any of his political antagonists.
While we were still at the United States Hotel, Martin Van Buren, at
that time President of the United States, arrived in Saratoga and
sojourned at the same hotel with us. His visit made an indelible
impression upon my memory owing to a highly sensational incident. During
the evening of the President's arrival Mrs. Clinton was promenading in
the large parlor of the hotel, leaning upon the arm of the Portuguese
_Chargé d'Affaires_, Senhor Joaquim Cesar de Figanière, when Mr. Van
Buren espying her advanced with his usual suavity of manner to meet her.
With a smile upon his face, he extended his hand, whereupon Mrs. Clinton
immediately turned her back and compelled her escort to imitate her,
apparently ignoring the fact that he was a foreign diplomat and that his
conduct might subsequently be resented by the authorities in Washington.
This incident, occurring as it did in a crowded room, was observed by
many of the guests and naturally created much comment. In talking over
the incident the next day Mrs. Clinton told me she was under the
impression that Mr. Van Buren clearly understood her feelings in regard
to him, as some years previous, when he and General Andrew Jackson
called upon her together, she had declined to see him, although Jackson
had been admitted. This act was characteristic of the woman. It was the
expression of a resentment which she had harbored against Mr. Van Buren
for years and which she was only abiding her time to display. I was
standing at Mrs. Clinton's side during this dramatic episode, and to my
youthful fancy she seemed, indeed, a heroine!
Mrs. Clinton was a social leader in Gotham before the days of the
_nouveaux riches_, and her sway was that of an autocrat. Her presence
was in every way imposing. She possessed many charming characteristics
and was in more respects than one an uncrowned queen, retaining her
wonderful tact and social power until the day of her death. I love to
dwell upon Mrs. Clinton because, apart from her remarkable personal
characteristics, she was the friend of my earlier life. Possessed as she
was of many eccentricities, her excellencies far counterbalanced them.
Of the latter, I recall especially the unusual ability and care she
displayed in housekeeping, which at that time was regarded as an
accomplishment in which every woman took particular pride. To be still
more specific, she apparently had a much greater horror of dirt than the
average housewife, and carried her antipathy to such an extent that she
tolerated but few fires in her University Place establishment in New
York, as she seriously objected to the uncleanness caused by the dust
and ashes! No matter how cold her house nor how frigid the day, she
never seemed to suffer but, on the contrary, complained that her home
was overheated. Her guests frequently commented upon "the nipping and
eager air" which Shakespeare's Horatio speaks of, but it made no
apparent impression upon their hostess.
Mrs. Clinton's articulation was affected by a slight stammer, which, in
my opinion, but added piquancy to her epigrammatic sayings. She once
remarked to me, "I shall never be c-c-cold until I'm dead." An impulse
took possession of me which somehow, in spite of the great difference in
our ages, I seemed unable to resist, and I retorted, "We are not all
assured of our temperatures at that period." She regarded me for a few
moments with unfeigned astonishment, but said nothing. I did not suffer
for my temerity at that moment, but later I was chagrined to learn she
had remarked that I was the most impertinent girl she had ever known. I
remember that upon another occasion she told me that one of Governor
Clinton's grandchildren, Augusta Clinton, was about to leave school at a
very early age. "Doesn't she intend to finish her education?" I
inquired. "No," was the quick and emphatic but stuttering reply, "she's
had sufficient education. I was at school only two months, and I'm sure
I'm smart enough." Her niece, Margaret Gelston, who was present and was
remarkable for her clear wits, retorted: "Only think how much smarter
you'd have been if you had remained longer." In an angry tone Mrs.
Clinton replied, "I don't want to be any smarter, I'm smart enough."
Mrs. Clinton's two nieces, the Misses Mary and Margaret Gelston, were
among my earliest and most intimate friends. They occupied a prominent
social position in New York and both were well known for their unusual
intellectuality. They were daughters of Maltby Gelston, President of the
Manhattan Bank, and granddaughters of David Gelston, who was appointed
Collector of the Port of New York by Jefferson and retained that
position for twenty years. Late in life Mary Gelston married Henry R.
Winthrop of New York. She died a few years ago leaving an immense estate
to Princeton Theological Seminary. "I pray," reads her will, "that the
Trustees of this Institution may make such use of this bequest as that
the extension of the Church of Christ on earth and the glory of God may
be promoted thereby." In the same instrument she adds: "As a similar
bequest would have been made by my deceased sister, Margaret L. Gelston,
had she survived me, I desire that the said Trustees should regard it as
given jointly by my said sister and by me." Some distant relatives,
thinking that her money could be more satisfactorily employed than in
the manner indicated, contested the will, and the Seminary finally
received, as the result of a compromise, between $1,600,000 and
$1,700,000.
One of my earliest recollections is of John Jacob Astor, a feeble old
man descending the doorsteps of his home on Broadway near Houston Street
to enter his carriage. His house was exceedingly plain and was one of a
row owned by him. His son, William Backhouse Astor, who married a
daughter of General John Armstrong, Secretary of War under President
Madison, during at least a portion of his father's life lived in a fine
house on Lafayette Place. I have attended evening parties there that
were exceedingly simple in character, and at which Mrs. Astor was always
plainly dressed and wore no jewels. I have a very distinct recollection
of one of these parties owing to a ludicrous incident connected with
myself. My mother was a woman of decidedly domestic tastes, whose whole
life was so immersed in her large family of children that she never
allowed an event of a social character to interfere with what she
regarded as her household or maternal duties. We older children were
therefore much thrown upon our own resources from a social point of
view, and when I grew into womanhood and entered society I was usually
accompanied to entertainments by my father. Sometimes, however, I went
with my lifelong friend, Margaret Tillotson Kemble, a daughter of
William Kemble, of whom I shall speak hereafter. Upon this particular
occasion I had gone early in the day to the Kembles preparatory to
spending the night there, with the intention of attending a ball at the
Astors'. Having dined, supped, and dressed myself for the occasion, in
company with Miss Kemble and her father I reached the Astor residence,
where I found on the doorstep an Irish maid from my own home awaiting my
arrival. In her hand she held an exquisite bouquet of pink and white
japonicas which had been sent to me by John Still Winthrop, the _fiancé_
of Susan Armistead, another of my intimate friends. The bouquet had
arrived just after my departure from home and, quite unknown to my
family, the Irish maid out of the goodness of her heart had taken it
upon herself to see that it was placed in my hands. I learned later
that, much to the amusement of many of the guests, she had been awaiting
my arrival for several hours. It seems almost needless to add that I
carried my flowers throughout the evening with much girlish pride and
pleasure.
Among the guests at this ball was Mrs. Francis R. Boreel, the young and
beautiful daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Langdon, who wore in her dark
hair a diamond necklace, a recent gift from her grandfather, John Jacob
Astor. It was currently rumored at the time that it cost twenty thousand
dollars, which was then a very large amount to invest in a single
article of that character. Mrs. Langdon's two other daughters were Mrs.
Matthew Wilks, who married abroad and spent her life there, and the
first Mrs. De Lancey Kane, who made a runaway match, and both of whom
left descendants in New York. All three women were celebrated for their
beauty, but Mrs. Boreel was usually regarded as the handsomest of the
trio. Mrs. Walter Langdon was Dorothea Astor, a daughter of John Jacob
Astor, and her husband was a grandson of Judge John Langdon of New
Hampshire, who equipped Stark's regiment for the battle of Bennington,
and who for twelve years was a member of the United States Senate and
was present as President _pro tempore_ of that body at the first
inauguration of Washington.
Another society woman whose presence at this ball I recall, and without
whom no entertainment was regarded as complete, was Mrs. Charles
Augustus Davis, wife of the author of the well-known "Jack Downing
Letters." Indeed, the name "Jack Downing" seemed so much a part of the
Davis family that in after years I have often heard Mrs. Davis called
"Mrs. Jack Downing." The Davises had a handsome daughter who married a
gentleman of French descent, but neither of them long survived the
marriage.
In an old newspaper of 1807 I came across the following marriage notice,
which was the first Astor wedding to occur in this country:
BENTZON--ASTOR. Married, on Monday morning, the 14th ult.
[September], by the Rev. Mr. [Ralph] Williston, Adrian B.
Bentzon, Esq., of the Isle of St. Croix, to Miss Magdalen
Astor, daughter of John Jacob Astor of this city.
It was while on a cruise among the West Indies that Miss Astor met Mr.
Bentzon, a Danish gentleman of good family but moderate fortune. In the
early part of the last century many ambitious foreigners went to that
part of the world with the intention of making their fortunes.
Another daughter of John Jacob Astor, Eliza, married Count Vincent
Rumpff, who was for some years Minister at the Court of the Tuileries
from the Hanseatic towns of Germany. She was well known through life,
and long remembered after death, for her symmetrical Christian
character. One of her writings, entitled "Transplanted Flowers," has
been published in conjunction with one of the Duchesse de Broglie,
daughter of Madame de Staël, with whom she was intimately associated in
her Christian works.
Henry Astor, the brother of John Jacob Astor, was the first of the
family to come to America. I am able to state, upon the authority of the
late Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, rector of Trinity church in New York, and a
life-long friend of the whole Astor connection, that he was a private in
a Hessian regiment that fought against our colonies in the Revolutionary
War. After its close he decided to remain in New York where he entered
the employment of a butcher in the old Oswego market. He subsequently
embarked upon more ambitious enterprises, became a highly successful
business man and at his death left a large fortune to his childless
widow. Dr. Dix has stated that it was probably through him that the
younger brother came to this country. However this may be, John Jacob
Astor sailed for America as a steerage passenger in a ship commanded by
Capt. Jacob Stout and arrived in Baltimore in January, 1784. He
subsequently went to New York, where he spent his first night in the
house of George Dieterich, a fellow countryman whom he had known in
Germany and by whom he was now employed to peddle cakes. After remaining
in his employ for a time and accumulating a little money he hired a
store of his own where he sold toys and German knickknacks. He
afterwards added skins and even musical instruments to his stock in
trade, as will appear from the following in _The Daily Advertiser_ of
New York, of the 2d of January, 1789, and following issues:
J. Jacob Astor,
At No. 81, Queen-street,
Next door but one to the Friends Meeting-House,
Has for sale an assortment of
Piano fortes, of the newest construction,
Made by the best makers in London, which he will sell on
reasonable terms.
He gives Cash for all kinds of FURS:
And has for sale a quantity of Canada Beaver, and
Beaver Coating, Racoon Skins, and Racoon Blankets,
Muskrat Skins, &c. &c.
It would seem that these Astor pianos were manufactured in London and
that George Astor, an elder brother of John Jacob Astor, was associated
with the latter in their sale. Indeed, one of them, formerly owned by
the Clinton family and now in Washington's Headquarters in Newburgh,
bears the name of "Geo. Astor & Co., Cornhill, London;" while still
another in my immediate neighborhood in Washington has the inscription
of "Astor and Camp, 79 Cornhill, London." Their octaves were few in
number, and a pupil of Chopin would have regarded them with scorn; but
upon these little spindle-legged affairs a duet could be performed. My
first knowledge of instrumental music was derived from one of these
pianos, and among the earliest recollections of my childhood is that of
hearing my three maiden aunts, my father's sisters, playing in turn the
inspiring Scotch airs upon the Astor piano that stood in their
drawing-room. One of their songs was especially inimical to cloistered
life and it, too, was possibly of Scotch origin. I am unable to recall
its exact words, but its refrain ran as follows:
I will not be a nun,
I can not be a nun,
I shall not be a nun,
I'm so fond of pleasure
I'll not be a nun.
I own an original letter written by John Jacob Astor from New York on
the 26th of April, 1826, addressed to ex-President James Monroe, my
husband's grandfather, which I regard as interesting on account of its
quaint style:
Dear Sir,
Permit me to congratulate you on your Honourable retirement
[from public life] for which I most sincerely wish you may
enjoy that Peace and Tranquility to which you are so justly
entitled.
Without wishing to cause you any Inconveniency [sic] on
account of the loan which I so long since made to you I
would be glad if you would put it in a train of sittlelment
[sic] if not the whole let it be a part with the interest
Due.
I hope Dear Sir that you and Mrs. Monroe enjoy the best of
health and that you may live many years to wittness [sic]
the Prosperity of the country to which you have so
generously contributed.
I am most Respectfully Dear Sir your obed S. &c.
J. J. ASTOR.
The Honble James Monroe.
It may here be stated that Mr. Astor's solicitude concerning Mr.
Monroe's financial obligation was duly relieved, and that the debt was
paid in full.
John Jacob Astor's numerous descendants can lay this "flattering
unction" to their souls, that every dollar of his vast wealth was
accumulated through thrift while leading an upright life.
An old-fashioned stage coach in my early days ran between New York and
Harlem, but the fashionable drive was on the west side of the city
along what was then called the "Bloomingdale Road." Many fashionable New
Yorkers owned and occupied handsome country seats along this route, and
closed their city homes for a period during the heated term. I recall
with pleasure the home of the Prussian Consul General and Mrs. John
William Schmidt, and especially their attractive daughters. Mr. Schmidt,
who came to this country as a bachelor, married Miss Eliza Ann Bache of
New York. Quite a number of years subsequent to this event, before they
had children of their own, they adopted a little girl whom they named
Julia and whom I knew very well in my early girlhood. As equestrian
exercise was popular in New York at that time, many of the young men and
women riding on the Bloomingdale Road would stop at the Schmidts'
hospitable home, rest their horses and enjoy a pleasing half-hour's
conversation with the daughters of the household. Among the fair riders
was Mary Tallmadge, a famous beauty and a daughter of General James
Tallmadge. During her early life and at a period when visits abroad were
few and far between, her father accompanied her to Europe. During her
travels on the continent she visited St. Petersburg, where her beauty
created a great sensation. While there the Emperor Nicholas I. presented
her with a handsome India shawl. She returned to America, married Philip
S. Van Rensselaer, a son of the old Patroon, and lived for many years on
Washington Square in New York.
Alexander Hamilton and family also owned and occupied a house in this
charming suburb called "The Grange." It was subsequently occupied by
Herman Thorne, who had married Miss Jane Mary Jauncey, a wealthy heiress
of New York. He lived in this house only a few years when he went with
his wife to reside in Paris during the reign of Louis Philippe. Mr.
Thorne became the most prominent American resident there and excited
the envy of many of his countrymen by his lavish expenditure of money.
His daughters made foreign matrimonial alliances. He was originally from
Schenectady, for a time was a purser in the U.S. Navy, and was
remarkable for his handsome presence and courtly bearing.
Jacob Lorillard lived in a handsome house in Manhattanville, a short
distance from the Bloomingdale Road. He began life, first as an
apprentice and then as a proprietor, in the tanning and hide business,
and his tannery was on Pearl Street. He then, with his brothers,
embarked in the manufacture and sale of snuff and tobacco, in which, as
is well known, he amassed an immense fortune. My earliest recollection
of the family is in the days of its great prosperity. One of Mr.
Lorillard's daughters, Julia, who married Daniel Edgar, I knew very
well, and I recall a visit I once made her in her beautiful home, where
I also attended her wedding a few years later. At this time her mother
was a widow, and shortly after the marriage the place was sold to the
Catholic order of the _Sacre Coeur_. Mrs. Jacob Lorillard was a daughter
of the Rev. Doctor Johann Christoff Kunze, professor of Oriental
Languages in Columbia College.
Many years ago the wags of London exhausted their wits in fittingly
characterizing and ridiculing the numerous equipages of a London
manufacturer of snuff and tobacco. One couplet suggestive of the manner
in which this vast wealth was acquired, was
Who would have thought it
That Noses had bought it.
The suitor of the daughter of this wealthy Englishman was appropriately
dubbed "Up to Snuff." Alas, this ancestral and aristocratic luxury of
snuff departed many years ago, but succeeding generations have been "up
to snuff" in many other ways. The gold snuff-box frequently studded
with gems which I remember so well in days gone by and especially at the
home Gouverneur Kemble in Cold Spring, where it was passed around and
freely used by both men and women, now commands no respect except as an
ancestral curio. Dryden, Dean Swift, Pope, Addison, Lord Chesterfield,
Dr. Johnson, Garrick, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Keats, Charles Lamb, Gibbon,
Walter Scott and Darwin were among the prominent worshipers of the
snuff-box and its contents, while some of them indulged in the habit to
the degree of intemperance. In describing his manner of using the
snuff-box Gibbon wrote: "I drew my snuff-box, rapped it, took snuff
twice, and continued my discourse in my usual attitude of my body bent
forwards, and my fore-finger stretched out;" and Boswell wrote in its
praise:
Oh, snuff! our fashionable end and aim--
Strasburgh, Rappe, Dutch, Scotch--whate'er thy name!
Powder celestial! quintessence divine
New joys entrance my soul while thou art mine;
Who takes? who takes thee not? Where'er I range
I smell thy sweets from Pall Mall to the 'Change.
While the spirit of patriotism was as prevalent in early New York as it
is now, it seems to me that it was somewhat less demonstrative. The 4th
of July, however, was anticipated by the youngsters of the day with the
greatest eagerness and pleasure. It was the habit of my father, for many
years, to take us children early in the morning to the City Hall to
attend the official observances of the day, an experience which we
naturally regarded as a great privilege. Booths were temporarily erected
all along the pavement in front of the City Hall, where substantial food
was displayed and sold to the crowds collected to assist in celebrating
the day. About noon several military companies arrived upon the scene
and took their positions in the park, where, after a number of
interesting maneuvers, a salute was fired which was terrifying to my
youthful nerves. Small boys, then as now, provided themselves with
pistols, and human life was occasionally sacrificed to patriotic ardor,
although I never remember hearing of cases of lockjaw resulting from
such accidents, as is so frequently the case at present. Firecrackers
and torpedoes were then in vogue, but skyrockets and more elaborate
fireworks had not then come into general use. I do not recall that the
national flag was especially prominent upon the "glorious fourth," and
it is my impression that this insignia of patriotism was not universally
displayed upon patriotic occasions until the Civil War.
The musical world of New York lay dormant until about the year 1825,
when Dominick Lynch, much to the delight of the cultivated classes,
introduced the Italian Opera. Through his instrumentality Madame
Malibran, her father, Signor Garcia, and her brother, Manuel Garcia, who
by the way died abroad in 1906, nearly ninety-nine years of age, came to
this country and remained for quite a period. I have heard many sad
traditions regarding Malibran, whose name is certainly immortal in the
annals of the musical world. Mr. Lynch was the social leader of his day
in New York, was æsthetic in his tastes, and possessed a highly
cultivated voice. He frequently sang the beautiful old ballads so much
in vogue at that period. I have heard through Mrs. Samuel L. Hinckley,
an old friend of mine, who remembered the incident, that during a visit
to Boston when he sang Tom Moore's pathetic ballad, "Oft in the Stilly
Night," there was scarcely a dry eye in the room. In referring to the
introduction of the Italian Opera into this country Dr. John W. Francis
in his "Old New York" thus speaks of Dominick Lynch: "For this
advantageous accession to the resources of mental gratification, we were
indebted to the taste and refinement of Dominick Lynch, the liberality
of the manager of the Park Theater, Stephen Price, and the distinguished
reputation of the Venetian, Lorenzo Da Ponte. Lynch, a native of New
York, was the acknowledged head of the fashionable and festive board, a
gentleman of the ton and a melodist of great powers and of exquisite
taste; he had long striven to enhance the character of our music; he was
the master of English song, but he felt, from his close cultivation of
music and his knowledge of the genius of his countrymen, that much was
wanting, and that more could be accomplished, and he sought out, while
in Europe, an Italian _troupe_, which his persuasive eloquence and the
liberal spirit of Price led to embark for our shores where they arrived
in November, 1825." Stephen Price here referred to by Dr. Francis was
the manager of the old Park Theater. Dominick Lynch's grandson, Nicholas
Luquer, who with his charming wife, formerly Miss Helen K. Shelton of
New York, resides in Washington, and his son, Lynch Luquer, inherit the
musical ability of their ancestor.
The great actors of the day performed in the Park Theater. I also
vividly remember the Bowery Theater, as well as in subsequent years
Burton's Theater in Chambers Street and the Astor Place Theater. When
William C. Macready, the great English actor, was performing in the
latter in 1849 a riot occurred caused by the jealousy existing between
him and his American rival, Edwin Forrest. Forrest had not been well
received in England owing, as he believed, to the unfriendly influence
of Macready. While the latter was considered by many the better actor,
Forrest was exceptionally popular with a certain class of people in New
York whose sympathies were easily enlisted and whose passions were
readily aroused. During the evening referred to, while Macready was
acting in the _rôle_ of Macbeth, a determined mob attacked the theater,
and the riot was not quelled until after a bitter struggle, in which the
police and the military were engaged, and during which twenty-one were
killed and thirty-three wounded.
In consequence of this unfortunate rivalry and its bloody results,
Forrest became morbid, and his domestic infelicities that followed
served to still further embitter his life. In 1850 his wife instituted
proceedings for divorce in the Superior Court of the City of New York,
and the trial was protracted for two years. She was represented by the
eminent jurist, Charles O'Conor, while Forrest employed "Prince" John
Van Buren, son of the ex-President. The legal struggle was one of the
most celebrated in the annals of the New York bar. There was abundant
evidence of moral delinquency on the part of both parties to the suit,
but the verdict was in favor of Mrs. Forrest. She was the daughter of
John Sinclair, formerly a drummer in the English army and subsequently a
professional singer. James Gordon Bennett said of her in the _Herald_
that "being born and schooled in turmoil and dissipation and reared in
constant excitement she could not live without it."
I have heard it said that one day John Van Buren was asked by a
disgruntled friend at the close of a hotly contested suit whether there
was any case so vile or disreputable that he would refuse to act as
counsel for the accused. The quick response was: "I must first know the
circumstances of the case; but what have you been doing?" Dr. Valentine
Mott, who for many years was a resident of Paris, gave a fancy-dress
ball in New York in honor of the Prince de Joinville, son of Louis
Philippe. At this entertainment John Van Buren appeared in the usual
evening dress with a red sash tied around his waist. Much to the
amusement of the guests whom he met, his salutation was: "Would you know
me?" It will be remembered that he was familiarly called "Prince John,"
owing to the fact that he had once danced with Queen Victoria prior to
her ascension to the throne. One day Van Buren met on the street James
T. Brady, a lawyer of equal ability and wit, who had recently returned
from a visit to England. In a most patronizing manner he inquired
whether he had seen the Queen. "Certainly," said Mr. Brady, "and under
these circumstances. I was walking along the street when by chance the
Queen's carriage overtook me, and the moment Her Majesty's eye lighted
upon me she exclaimed: 'Hello, Jim Brady, when did you hear from John
Van Buren?'" I recall another amusing anecdote about John Van Buren
during my school days. Mustaches were at that time worn chiefly by the
sporting element. Mr. Van Buren, who was very attentive to Catharine
Theodora Duer, a daughter of President William Alexander Duer of
Columbia College, and who, by the way, never married, adopted this style
of facial adornment, but the young woman objecting to it he cut it off
and sent it to her in a letter. Prince John Van Buren's daughter, Miss
Anna Vander Poel Van Buren, many years thereafter, married Edward
Alexander Duer, a nephew of this Catharine Theodora Duer.
It was my very great pleasure to know Fanny Kemble and her father,
Charles Kemble. She was, indeed, the queen of tragedy, and delighted the
histrionic world of New York by her remarkable rendering of the plays of
Shakespeare. In later years when I heard her give Shakespearian
readings, I regarded the occasion as an epoch in my life. In this
connection I venture to express my surprise that the classical English
quotations so pleasing to the ear in former days are now so seldom
heard. It seems unfortunate that the epigrammatic sentences, for
example, of grand old Dr. Samuel Johnson have become almost obsolete. In
former years Byron appealed to the sentiment, while the more ambitious
quoted Greek maxims. The sayings of the old authors were recalled,
mingled with the current topics of the day. It would seem, however, that
the present generation is decidedly more interested in quotations from
the stock exchange. Edmund Burke said that "the age of chivalry is
gone, that of sophists, economists, and calculators has succeeded."
Upon her return to England Fanny Kemble published her journal kept while
in the United States, which was by no means pleasing in every respect to
her American readers. It is said that in one of her literary effusions
she dwelt upon a custom, which she claimed was prevalent in America, of
parents naming their children after classical heroes, and gave as an
example a child in New York who bore the name of Alfonzo Alonzo
Agamemnon Dionysius Bogardus. The sister of this youth, she stated, was
named Clementina Seraphina Imogen. I think this statement must have been
evolved from her own brain, as it would be difficult to conceive of
parents who would consent to make their children notorious in such a
ridiculous manner. Fanny Kemble married Pierce Butler, a lawyer of
ability and cousin of the U.S. Senator from South Carolina of the same
name, and they were divorced in 1849, when the Hon. George M. Dallas was
counsel for Fanny Kemble and Rufus Choate appeared for her husband.
Fanny Elssler, a queen of grace and beauty on the stage, delighted
immense audiences at the Park Theater. She came to this country under
the auspices of Chevalier Henry Wikoff, a roving but accomplished
soldier of fortune, who pitched his camp in both continents. Upon her
arrival in New York the "divine Fanny," as she was invariably called,
was borne to her destination in a carriage from which the horses had
been detached by her enthusiastic _adorateurs_, led by August Belmont.
She was, indeed,
A being so fair that the same lips and eyes
She bore on earth might serve in Paradise.
At this distant day it seems almost impossible to describe her. She
seemed to float upon the stage sustained only by the surrounding
atmosphere. In my opinion she has never had a rival, with the possible
exception of Taglioni, the great Swedish _danseuse_. I saw Fanny Elssler
dance the _cracovienne_ and the _cachucha_, and it is a memory which
will linger with me always. The music that accompanied these dances was
generally selected from the popular airs of the day. Many dark stories
were afloat concerning Fanny Elssler's private life, but to me it seems
impossible to associate her angelic presence with anything but her
wonderful art. She was never received socially in New York; indeed, the
only person that I remember connected with the stage in my early days
who had the social _entrée_ was Fanny Kemble.
We attended the Dutch Reformed Church in New York of which the Rev. Dr.
Jacob Brodhead was for many years the pastor. My aunts, however,
attended one of the three collegiate churches in the lower part of the
city, and I sometimes accompanied them and, as there was a frequent
interchange of pulpits, I became quite accustomed to hear all of the
three clergymen. The Rev. Dr. John Knox, who endeared himself to his
flock by his gentle and appealing ministrations; the Rev. Dr. Thomas De
Witt, a profound theologian and courtly gentleman; and the Rev. Dr.
William C. Brownlee, with his vigorous Scotch accent, preaching against
what he invariably called "papery" (popery), and recalling, as he did,
John Knox of old, that irritating thorn in the side of the unfortunate
Mary Queen of Scots, made up this remarkable trio. During the latter
part of his life Dr. Brownlee suffered from a stroke of paralysis which
rendered him speechless, and his Catholic adversaries improved this
opportunity to circulate the report that he had been visited by a
judgment from Heaven.
There were many shining lights in the Episcopal Church at this time in
New York. The Rev. Dr. William Berrian was the acceptable rector of St.
John's, which was then as now a chapel of Trinity Parish. The Rev. Dr.
Francis L. Hawks was the popular rector of St. Thomas's church, on the
corner of Broadway and Houston Streets. He was a North Carolinian by
birth, but is said to have been in part of Indian descent. I recall with
pleasure his masterly rendition of the Episcopal service. During the
Civil War he made it quite apparent to his parishioners that his
sympathies were with the South, and as most of them did not share his
views he moved to Baltimore, where a more congenial atmosphere
surrounded him.
The Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, senior, was the rector of St. George's
Episcopal church in the lower part of the city. He was a theologian of
the Low-Church school and was greatly esteemed by all of his colleagues.
His son, the Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, junior, was in full sympathy with
the Low-Church views of his father, and will be recalled as an
evangelical preacher of exceptional power and wide influence. In the
summer of 1867 he preached, in defiance of the canons of the Episcopal
Church, in St. James's Methodist church in New Brunswick, N.J., thus
invading without authority the parishes of the Rev. Dr. Alfred Stubs and
the Rev. Dr. Edward B. Boggs of that city. His trial was of sensational
interest, and resulted, as will be remembered, in his conviction. The
attitude of the Tyngs, father and son, was humorously described by
Anthony Bleecker, a well-known wit of the day, in these verses:
_Tyng, Junior._
I preach from barrels and from tubs,
In spite of Boggs, in spite of Stubs;
I'll preach from stumps, I'll preach from logs,
In spite of Stubs, in spite of Boggs.
_Tyng, Senior._
Do, Steve; and lay aside your gown,
Your bands and surplice throw them down;
A bob-tail coat of tweed or kersey
Is good enough at least for Jersey.
_Tyng, Junior._
What if the Bishops interfere,
And I am made a culprit clear;
Can't you a thunderbolt then forge,
And hurl it in the new St. George?
_Tyng, Senior._
Be sure I can and out of spite
A wrathy sermon I'll indite;
I'll score the court and every judge
And call the whole proceedings fudge;
And worse than that each reverent name
I'll bellow through the trump of fame;
With Bishop Potter I'll get even,
And make you out the martyr Stephen.
The Rev. Dr. Orville Dewey, renowned for his intellectual attainments,
preached in the Unitarian church in Mercer Street. In subsequent years
his sermons were published and I understand are still read with much
interest and pleasure. Archbishop John Hughes, whom I knew quite well,
was the controlling power in the Roman Catholic Church. He possessed the
affectionate regard of the whole community, and naturally commanded a
wide influence. A Roman Catholic told me many years ago that, upon one
of the visits of the Archbishop to St. Peter's church, he took the
congregation to task for their exclusiveness, exclaiming: "You lock up
your pews and exclude the marrow of the land."
I knew very well the Rev. Charles Constantine Pise, the first
native-born Catholic to officiate in St. Joseph's church on Sixth
Avenue. He was of Italian parentage and was remarkable for his great
physical attractiveness. In addition to his fine appearance, he was
exceedingly social in his tastes and was consequently a highly agreeable
guest. He cultivated the muses to a modest degree, and I have several of
his poetical effusions, one of which was addressed to me. In spite of
the admiration he commanded from both men and women, irrespective of
creed, life seemed to present to him but few allurements. Archbishop
Hughes sent him to a small Long Island parish where, after laboring long
and earnestly, he closed his earthly career. An anecdote is related of
this pious man which I believe to be true. A young woman quite forgetful
of the proprieties and conventionalties of life, but with decided
matrimonial proclivities, made Father Pise an offer of her fortune,
heart and hand. In a dignified manner he advised her to give her heart
to God, her money to the poor, and her hand to the man who asked for it.
Prior to his rectorship of St. Joseph's church in New York, Father Pise,
who was an intimate friend of Henry Clay, served as Chaplain of the U.S.
Senate during a portion of the 22d Congress. At the National Capital as
well as in New York he was exceptionally popular, making many converts,
especially among young women, and preaching to congregations in churches
so densely crowded that it was difficult to obtain even standing room.
I cannot pass the Roman Catholic clergy without some reference to the
Rev. Felix Varela, a priest of Spanish descent and, it is said, of noble
birth, who was sent from Cuba to Spain as one of the deputies to the
Cortes from his native island. His church was St. Peter's in Barclay
Street. It would be difficult for any words to do justice to his life of
self-abnegation or to his adherence to the precepts of his Divine
Master. It is with pleasure, therefore, that I relate the following
story, for the truth of which I can vouch. A policeman found a handsome
pair of silver candlesticks in the custody of a poor unfortunate man,
and as they bore upon them a distinctive coat of arms he arrested him.
On his way to prison the suspected criminal begged to see Father Varela
for a moment, and as his residence was _en route_ to the station house
the officer granted his request. This good priest informed the policeman
with much reluctance that the candlesticks had formerly belonged to
him, and that he had given them to his prisoner to buy bread for his
family. My father was so deeply in sympathy with the life and character
of this priest that, although of a different faith, he seldom heard his
name mentioned without an expression of admiration for his life and
character.
There was a French Protestant church in Franklin Street ministered to by
the Rev. Dr. Antoine Verren, whose wife was a daughter of Thomas
Hammersley. I also remember very well a Presbyterian church on Laight
Street, opposite St. John's Park, the rector of which was the Rev. Dr.
Samuel H. Cox, an uncle of the late Bishop Arthur Cleveland Cox of the
Episcopal Church. Dr. Cox was a prominent abolitionist, and when we were
living on Hubert Street, just around the corner, this church was stoned
by a mob because the rector had expressed his anti-slavery views too
freely.
The mode of conducting funerals in former days in New York differed very
materially from the customs now in vogue. While the coffins of the
well-to-do were made entirely of mahogany and without handles, I have
always understood that persons of the Hebrew faith buried their dead in
pine coffins, as they believed this wood to be more durable.
Pall-bearers wore white linen scarfs three yards long with a rosette of
the same material fastened on one shoulder, which, together with a pair
of black gloves, was always presented by the family. It was originally
the intention that the linen scarf should be used after the funeral for
making a shirt. Funerals from churches were not as customary as at the
present time. If the body was to be interred within the city limits
every one attending the services, including the family, walked to the
cemetery. It was unusual for a woman to be seen at a funeral.
But the whole social tone of New York society was more _de rigueur_ than
now. Sometimes, for example, persons living under a cloud of
insufficient magnitude to place them behind prison bars, feeling their
disgrace, took flight for Texas. Instead of placing the conventional
_P.P.C._ on their cards the letters _G.T.T._ were used, meaning that the
self-expatriated ne'er-do-well had "gone to Texas." I have always
understood that in Great Britain the transgressor sought the Continent,
where he was often enabled to pass into oblivion. In this manner both
countries were relieved of patriots who "left their country for their
country's good." As an example, I remember hearing in my early life of
an Englishman named de Roos, who had the unfortunate habit of arranging
cards to suit his own fancy. When his _confrères_ finally caught him in
the act he left hurriedly for the Continent.
In 1842 the U.S. sloop of war _Somers_ arrived in New York, and the
country was startled by the accounts of what has since been known as the
"Somers Mutiny." The Captain of the ship was Commander Alexander Slidell
Mackenzie, whose original surname was Slidell. He was a brother of the
Hon. John Slidell, at one time U.S. Senator from Louisiana, who, during
the Civil War, while on his passage to England on the _Trent_ as a
representative of the Southern Confederacy in England, was captured by
Captain Charles Wilkes of the U.S. Navy. The result of the alleged
mutiny was the execution, by hanging at the yard arm, of Philip Spencer,
a son of the celebrated New York lawyer, John C. Spencer, President
Tyler's Secretary of War, and of two sailors, Samuel Cromwell and Elisha
Small. It was charged that they had conspired to capture the ship and
set adrift or murder her officers. Being far from any home port, and
uncertain of the extent to which the spirit of disaffection had
permeated the crew, Mackenzie consulted the officers of his ship as to
the proper course for him to pursue. In accordance with their advice,
and after only a preliminary examination of witnesses and no formal
trial with testimony for the defense, they were, as just stated,
summarily executed.
I speak from the point of view of the legal element of New York, as my
father's associates were nearly all professional men. The world was
aghast upon receiving the news that three men had been hurled into
eternity without judge or jury. Spencer was a lad of less than nineteen
and a midshipman. Although Captain Mackenzie's action was sustained by
the court of inquiry, which was convened in his case, as well as by the
_esprit de corps_ of the Navy, public feeling ran so high that a court
martial was ordered. His trial of two months' duration took place at the
Brooklyn Navy Yard, and resulted in a verdict of "not proven." The
judge-advocate of the court was Mr. William H. Norris of Baltimore, and
Mackenzie was defended by Mr. George Griffith and Mr. John Duer, the
latter of whom was the distinguished New York jurist and the uncle of
Captain Mackenzie's wife. At the request of the Hon. John C. Spencer,
Benjamin F. Butler and Charles O'Conor, leaders of the New York bar,
formally applied for permission to ask questions approved by the court
and to offer testimony, but the request was refused--"so that," as
Thomas H. Benton expressed it, "at the long _post mortem_ trial which
was given to the boy after his death, the father was not allowed to ask
one question in favor of his son." After a lapse of sixty-nine years,
judging from Mackenzie's report to the Navy Department, it almost seems
as if he possessed a touch of mediæval superstition. He speaks of
Spencer giving money and tobacco to the crew, of his being extremely
intimate with them, that he had a strange flashing of the eye, and
finally that he was in the habit of amusing the sailors by making music
with his jaws. Mackenzie in his official report stated that this lad
"had the faculty of throwing his jaw out of joint and by contact of the
bones playing with accuracy and elegance a variety of airs." James
Fenimore Cooper stated it as his opinion, "that such was the obliquity
of intellect shown by Mackenzie in the whole affair, that no analysis
of his motives can be made on any consistent principle of human action;"
and the distinguished statesman, Thomas H. Benton, whose critical and
lengthy review of the whole case would seem to carry conviction to
unprejudiced minds, declared that the three men "died innocent, as
history will tell and show."
The proceedings of the Mackenzie trial were eagerly read by an
interested public. As I remember the testimony given regarding Spencer's
last moments upon earth, Mackenzie announced to the youthful culprit
that he had but ten minutes to live. He fell at once upon his knees and
exclaimed that he was not fit to die, and the Captain replied that he
was aware of the fact, but could not help it. It is recorded that he
read his Bible and Prayer-Book, and that the Captain referred him to the
"penitent thief;" but when he pleaded that his fate would kill his
mother and injure his father, Mackenzie made the inconsiderate reply
that the best and only service he could render his father was to die.
I recall a conversation bearing upon the _Somers_ tragedy which I
overheard between my father and his early friend, Thomas Morris, when
their indignation was boundless. The latter's son, Lieutenant Charles W.
Morris, U.S.N., had made several cruises with the alleged mutineer
Cromwell. Meeting Mackenzie he stated this fact, saying at the same time
that he found him a well-disposed and capable seaman. Mackenzie quickly
responded that "he had a bad eye," and then Lieutenant Morris recalled
that the unfortunate man had a cast in one eye.
A few years after his court-martial Mackenzie fell dead from his horse.
One of the wardroom officers of the _Somers_ was Adrian Déslonde of
Louisiana, whose sister married the Hon. John Slidell, of whom I have
already spoken as Commander Mackenzie's brother.
I seldom hear the name of John Slidell without being reminded of a
witticism which I heard from my mother's lips, the author of which was
Louisa Fairlie, a daughter of Major James Fairlie, who, during the War
of the Revolution, served upon General Steuben's staff. She was, I have
understood, a great belle with a power of repartee which bordered upon
genius. During the youth of John Slidell he attended a dinner at a
prominent New York residence and sat at the table next to Miss Fairlie.
In a tactless manner he made a pointedly unpleasant remark bearing upon
the marriage of her sister Mary to the distinguished actor, Thomas
Apthorpe Cooper, a subject upon which the Fairlie family was somewhat
sensitive. Miss Fairlie regarded Mr. Slidell for only a moment, and then
retorted: "Sir, you have been _dipped_ not _moulded_ into society"--an
incident which, by the way, I heard repeated many years later at a
dinner in China. To appreciate this witticism, one may refer to the New
York directory of 1789, which describes John Slidell, the father of the
Slidell of whom we are speaking, as "soap boiler and chandler, 104
Broadway." Miss Fairlie's pun seems to me to be quite equal to that of
Rufus Choate, who, when a certain Baptist minister described himself as
"a candle of the Lord," remarked, "Then you are a dipped, but I hope not
a wick-ed candle." It is said that upon another occasion, after the
return of Mr. Slidell from a foreign trip, he was asked by Miss Fairlie
whether he had been to Greece. He replied in the negative and asked the
reason for her query. "Oh, nothing," she said, "only it would have been
very natural for you to visit Greece in order to renew early
associations!" Many years thereafter Priscilla Cooper, the wife of
Robert Tyler and the daughter-in-law of President John Tyler, a daughter
of Thomas Apthorpe Cooper and his wife, Mary Fairlie, presided at the
White House during the widowhood of her distinguished father-in-law.
As has already been stated, the father of the Hon. John Slidell was a
chandler, and he conducted his business with such success that in time
he became prominent in mercantile and financial circles, and eventually
was made president of the Mechanics Bank and the Tradesmen's Insurance
Company. His son John, who at first engaged in his father's soap and
tallow business as an apprentice, finally succeeded him, and the
enterprise was continued under the firm name of "John Slidell, Jr. and
Company." The house failed, however, and it is said that this fact,
together with the scandal attending his duel with Stephen Price, manager
of the Park Theater, in which the latter was wounded, were the
controlling factors that led the future Hon. John Slidell to remove his
residence to New Orleans. In this place he became highly celebrated as a
lawyer, and his successful political career is well known. He married
Miss Marie Mathilde Déslonde, a member of a well-known Creole family,
and many persons still living will recall her grace and _savoir faire_
in Washington when her husband represented Louisiana in the United
States Senate. Miss Jane Slidell, a sister of the Hon. John Slidell,
married Commodore Matthew C. Perry, U.S.N., who opened the doors of
Japan to the trade of the world, and whose daughter, Caroline Slidell
Perry, became the wife of the late August Belmont of New York, while
Julia, another of Mr. Slidell's sisters, married the late Rear Admiral
C. R. P. Rodgers, U.S.N.
CHAPTER V
LONG BRANCH, NEWPORT AND ELSEWHERE
When I was about ten years of age, accompanied by my parents, I made a
visit to Long Branch, which was then one of the most fashionable summer
resorts for New Yorkers. As we made the journey by steamboat and the
water was rough we were the victims of a violent attack of seasickness
from which few of the passengers escaped. Many Philadelphians also spent
their summers at this resort, and there was naturally a fair sprinkling
of people from other large cities. At that time there were no hotels in
the place, but there was one commodious boarding house which
accommodated a large number of guests. It bore no name, but was
designated as "Mrs. Sairs'," from its proprietress. In this
establishment our whole family, by no means small, found accommodations.
I recall many pleasant acquaintances we made while there, especially
that of Miss Molly Hamilton of Philadelphia. She was a vivacious old
lady, and was accompanied by her nephew, Hamilton Beckett, in whom I
found a congenial playmate. His name made a strong impression upon my
memory, as I was then reading the history of Thomas à Becket, the
murdered Archbishop of Canterbury. I have heard that this friend of my
childhood went eventually to England to reside. The Penningtons of
Newark had a cottage near us. William Pennington subsequently became
Governor of New Jersey. I also enjoyed the youthful companionship of his
daughter Mary, whom many years later I met in Washington. In the
interval she had become a pronounced belle and the wife of Hugh A. Toler
of Newark.
The guests of the boarding house were inclined to complain that the
beach was too exclusively appropriated by two acquaintances of ours who
were living in the same house with us, Mrs. G. W. Featherstonhaugh and
Mrs. Thomas M. Willing, and their train of admirers. They were sprightly
young women and daughters of Bernard Moore Carter of Virginia. I
remember it was the gossip of the place that both of them could count
their offers of marriage by the score. Mrs. Willing was a skilled
performer upon the harp, an instrument then much in vogue, but whose
silvery tones are now, alas, only memory's echo. Mr. Featherstonhaugh,
who was by birth an Englishman, after residing in the United States a
few years, wrote in 1847 a book entitled "Excursion through the Slave
States from Washington on the Potomac to the Frontier of Mexico." I
recall that in this volume he spoke with enthusiasm of the _agréments_
of the palate which he enjoyed during a few days' sojourn at Barnum's
Hotel in Baltimore. He dwelt particularly, with gastronomic ecstasy,
upon the canvas-back duck and soft-shell crab upon which he feasted, and
was inclined to draw an unfavorable comparison between the former hotel
and Gadsby's, the well-known Washington hostelry. Upon his journey he
visited Monticello, the former home of Thomas Jefferson. His encomium on
this distinguished man appealed to me as I am sure it does to others; he
spoke of him as the "Confucius of his country." Altogether, Mr.
Featherstonhaugh's experiences in America were as novel and entertaining
as a sojourn with Aborigines.
Just off the beach at Long Branch was a high bluff which descended
gradually to the sea, and at this point were several primitive bath
houses belonging to Mrs. Sairs' establishment. Following the prevalent
custom, we wore no bathing shoes and stockings, but, accompanied by a
stalwart bathing master, we enjoyed many dips in the briny deep, and
were brought safely back by him to our bath house. There was no
immodest lingering on the beach; this privilege was reserved for the
advanced civilization of a later day.
While I was still a young child, and some years after our visit to Long
Branch, my infant brother Malcolm became seriously ill. Dr. John W.
Francis, our family physician, prescribed a change of air for him, and
my parents took him to Newport. We found pleasant accommodations for our
family in a fashionable boarding house on Thames Street, the guests of
which were composed almost exclusively of Southern families. Newport was
then in an exceedingly primitive state and I have no recollection of
seeing either cottages or hotels, while modern improvements were
unknown. We led a simple outdoor life, taking our breakfast at eight,
dining at two and supping at six. It was indeed "early to bed and early
to rise."
As I recall these early days in Newport, two fascinating old ladies,
typical Southern gentlewomen, the Misses Philippa and Hetty Minus of
Savannah, present themselves vividly to my memory. After we returned to
our New York home we had the pleasure of meeting them again and
entertaining them. Another charming guest of our establishment was the
wife of James L. Pettigru, an eminent citizen of South Carolina. She was
the first woman of fashion presented to my girlish vision, and her mode
of life was a revelation. She kept very late hours, often lingering in
her room the next morning until midday. As I was then familiar with Miss
Edgeworth's books for young people, which all judicious parents
purchased for their children, I immediately designated Mrs. Pettigru as
"Lady Delacour," whose habits and fashions are so pleasingly described
in that admirable novel, "Belinda." Although born and bred in South
Carolina, Mr. Pettigru remained loyal to the Union, and after his death
his valuable library was purchased by Congress. The members of another
representative South Carolina family, the Allstons, were also among our
fellow boarders at Long Branch. This name always brings to mind the
pathetic history of Theodosia Burr, Aaron Burr's only child, and her sad
death; while the name of Washington Allston, the artist, is too well
known to be dwelt upon.
After a month's pleasant sojourn in Newport my brother's health had
materially improved and we returned to our New York home by the way of
Boston, where we were guests at the Tremont House. I blush to
acknowledge to the Bostonians who may peruse these pages that my chief
recollection of this visit is that I was standing on the steps of the
hotel, when I was accosted by a gentleman, who exclaimed: "You are a
Campbell, I'll bet ten thousand dollars!" I apologize for writing such a
personal reminiscence of such an historic town, but such are the freaks
of memory. This was prior to the maturer days of William Lloyd Garrison,
Wendell Phillips and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Before passing on to other subjects I must not omit mentioning that at
this period the currency used in the New England States differed from
that of New York. This fact was brought vividly before me in Newport
when I made an outlay of a shilling at a candy store. In return for my
Mexican quarter of a dollar I was handed a small amount of change. I
left the shop fully convinced that I was a victim of sharp practice, but
learned later that there was a slight difference between the shilling
used in New York and that used in New England.
Many years later I visited Boston again, this time as the guest of Mr.
and Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop at their superb Brookline home; and,
escorted by Mr. Winthrop and Mr. and Mrs. Jabez L. M. Curry of Alabama,
who were also their house-guests, I visited all the points of historical
interest. Both Mr. Winthrop and Mr. Curry were then trustees of the
Peabody Fund. A few years after we separated in Boston Mr. and Mrs.
Curry went to Spain to reside, where, as American Minister, he was
present at the birth of King Alfonso of Spain.
About fifteen years later I again visited Newport, but this time I was a
full-fledged young woman. During my absence a large number of hotels and
cottages had been erected, many of which were occupied by Southern
families who still continued to regard this Rhode Island resort as
almost exclusively their own. I recall the names of many of them, all of
whom were conspicuous in social life in the South. Among them were the
Middletons, whose ancestors were historically prominent; the Pinckneys,
descended from the illustrious Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, who uttered
the well-known maxim, "Millions for defense but not one cent for
tribute;" the Izards; the Draytons, of South Carolina; and the
Habershams of Georgia. During this visit in Newport I was the guest, at
their summer cottage, of my life-long friends, the Misses Mary and
Margaret Gelston, daughters of Maltby Gelston, former President of the
Manhattan Bank of New York. Not far from the Gelstons resided what Sam
Weller would call three "widder women." They were sisters, the daughters
of Ralph Izard of Dorchester, S.C., and bore distinguished South
Carolina names; Mrs. Poinsett who had been the wife of Joel Roberts
Poinsett, the well-known statesman and Secretary of War under Van Buren,
Mrs. Eustis, the widow of Gen. Abram Eustis, U.S.A., who had served in
the War of 1812, and Mrs. Thomas Pinckney, whose husband, the nephew of
General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, had been a wealthy rice planter in
South Carolina. The beautiful Christmas flower, the poinsettia, was
named in compliment to Mr. Poinsett. These interesting women for many
years were in the habit of leaving what they called their "Carolina"
home for a summer sojourn at Newport, where their house was one of the
social centers of attraction. With their graceful bearing, gentle voices
and cordial manners they were characteristic types of the Southern
_grandes dames_ now so seldom seen. A short distance from my hosts'
cottage lived the daughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, who was
also the widow of Robert Goodloe Harper, a prominent Federalist and a
United States Senator during the administrations of Madison and Monroe.
Mrs. Harper's sister married Richard Caton of Maryland, whose daughters
made such distinguished British matrimonial alliances. Her daughter,
Emily Harper, upon whose personality I love to dwell, was from her
earliest childhood endowed with strong religious traits. Her gentle
Christian character exemplified charity to all who were fortunate enough
to come within the radius of her influence. She was in every sense of
the word a deeply religious woman, and her influence upon those around
her was of the most elevating character.
I shall always remember with the keenest enjoyment some of the pleasant
teas at this hospitable home of the Harpers in Newport. All sects were
welcomed, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Hebrews, Unitarians, and I doubt
not that an equally cordial reception would have awaited Mahommedans or
Hindoos. I once heard Miss Harper say that she shared with Chateaubriand
the ennobling sentiment that the salvation of one soul was of more value
than the conquest of a kingdom. Naturally the Harper cottage was the
rendezvous for Southerners and its hospitable roof sheltered many
prominent people, especially guests from Maryland. Mr. Maltby Gelston
told me at the time of this visit that Mrs. Harper was the only child of
a Signer then living. It is probable that he spoke from positive
knowledge, as he was an authority upon the subject, having married the
granddaughter of Philip Livingston, a New York Signer. A few years
later, when I was married in Washington, D.C., I was deeply gratified
when Miss Harper came from Baltimore to attend my wedding. The marked
attentions paid to her by Caleb Cushing, then Attorney-General under
President Pierce, were the source of much gossip, but she seemed
entirely indifferent to his devotion. I once heard him express great
annoyance after a trip to Baltimore because he failed to see her on
account of a headache with which she was said to be suffering, and he
inquired of me in a petulant manner whether headaches were an universal
feminine malady. Like her mother, she lived to a very advanced age and
when she departed this life the world lost one of its saintliest
characters.
One of the most attractive cottages in Newport at the time of my second
visit was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Henry Casimir de Rham of New York. It
was densely shaded by a number of graceful silver-maple trees. Mr. de
Rham was a prosperous merchant of Swiss extraction, whose wife was Miss
Maria Theresa Moore, a member of one of New York's most prominent
families and a niece of Bishop Benjamin Moore of New York.
The social leaders of Newport at this period were Mr. and Mrs. Robert
Morgan Gibbes, whose winter home was in New York. Mr. Gibbes, who, by
the way, was a great-uncle of William Waldorf Astor, was a South
Carolinian by birth and had married Miss Emily Oliver of Paterson, New
Jersey. They lived in a handsome house, gave sumptuous entertainments,
and had an interesting family of daughters, several of whom I knew quite
well. One well-remembered evening I attended a party at their house
which was regarded as the social affair of the season. It made a lasting
impression upon my mind owing to a trivial circumstance which seems
hardly worth relating. It was the first time I had ever seen mottoes
used at entertainments, and at this party they were exceptionally
handsome. The one which fell to my share, and which I treasured for some
time, bore upon it a large bunch of red currants. These favors were
always imported, and a few years later became so fashionable that no
dinner or supper table was regarded as quite the proper thing without
them. I take it for granted that this custom was the origin of the
german favors which in the course of time came into such general use.
In 1853 I made a third visit to Newport as the guest of Mrs. Winfield
Scott. General Scott's headquarters were then in Washington, but, as his
military views were widely divergent from those of Jefferson Davis,
President Pierce's Secretary of War, he was urging the President to
transfer him to New York. I have frequently heard the General jocosely
remark that he longed for a Secretary of War who would not "make him
cry." The Scotts at this period were spending their winters in
Washington and their summers in Newport. Meanwhile his numerous
admirers, in recognition of his distinguished services, presented him
with a house on West Twelfth Street which was occupied by him and his
family after his transfer to New York. The principal donor of this
residence was the Hon. Hamilton Fish.
After a charming sojourn of several weeks in Newport, I was about
returning to my home when I casually invited General Scott's youngest
daughter, Marcella ("Ella"), then only a schoolgirl, to accompany me to
Miss Harper's cottage, as I wished to say good-bye. Upon entering the
drawing-room a cousin and guest of Miss Harper's, Charles Carroll
McTavish of Howard County, Maryland, appeared upon the threshold and was
introduced to us. He was then approaching middle life and I learned
later that he had served some years in the Russian Army. Marcella
Scott's appearance apparently fascinated him from the moment they met,
and from that day he began to be devotedly attentive to her. Mrs. Scott,
however, entirely disapproved of Mr. McTavish's attentions to her
daughter on account of her extreme youth. A few months later Marcella
returned to Madame Chegaray's school, where she became a boarding pupil
and was not allowed to see visitors. The following winter she was taken
ill with typhoid fever, and, when convalescent enough to be moved, was
brought to my home in Houston Street, New York, to recuperate, as the
Scotts were still living in Washington and the journey was considered
too long and arduous to be taken by an invalid. Meanwhile, Mr. McTavish
renewed his attentions to Miss Scott and the impression made was more
than a passing fancy for in the following June they were married in the
Twelfth Street house of which I have already spoken, General Scott
having in the interim succeeded in having his headquarters removed to
New York.
I had the pleasure of being present at this wedding, which, in spite of
a warm day in June and the many absentees from the city, was one of
exceptional brilliancy. The Army and Navy were well represented, the
officers of both branches of the service appearing in full-dress
uniform. The hour appointed for the ceremony was high noon, but an
amusing _contretemps_ blocked the way. An incorrigible mantua-maker,
faithless to all promises and regardless of every sense of propriety,
failed to send home the bridal dress at the appointed time. This state
of affairs proved decidedly embarrassing, but the guests were informed
of the cause of the delay and patiently awaited developments. Behind the
scenes, however, quite a different spectacle was presented, while amid
much bustle and excitement a second wedding gown was being hurriedly
prepared. After an hour's delay, however, the belated garment arrived,
when the bride-elect was quickly dressed and walked into the large
drawing-room in all of her bridal finery, leaning, as was then the
custom, upon the arm of the groom. Archbishop Hughes conducted the
wedding service, and seized upon the auspicious occasion to make an
address of some length. Previous to the ceremony, my intimate friend,
the young bride's older sister, Cornelia Scott, who a few years
previous had become while in Rome a convert to Catholicism, asked me
with much earnestness of manner to do my best to entertain the
Archbishop, as she thought, in her kind way, that he might be somewhat
out of his element when surrounded by such a large and fashionable
assemblage. This was, indeed, a pleasing task, as it enabled me to renew
my earlier acquaintance with this gifted prelate. The only member of the
groom's family present at this ceremony was his handsome brother,
Alexander S. McTavish, who came from Baltimore for the occasion. Strange
to say, in view of the many presents usually displayed upon such
occasions nowadays, I do not remember, although I was a family guest,
seeing or hearing of a single bridal gift, but some of the wedding
guests I recall very distinctly. Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Charles
King, the former of whom was President of Columbia College and an
intimate friend of General Scott's; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ray, whose
daughter Cornelia married Major Schuyler Hamilton, aide-de-camp to
General Scott during the Mexican war; Prof. Clement C. Moore and his
daughter Theresa; Mr. and Mrs. Edward Mayo of Elizabeth, N.J., the
former of whom was Mrs. Scott's brother; Mrs. Robert Henry Cabell, a
sister of Mrs. Scott's from Richmond; Major Thomas Williams, an aide to
General Scott, who was killed during the Civil War; and Major Henry L.
Scott, aide and son-in-law of General Scott.
The same evening, after the wedding guests had departed and quiet again
reigned supreme in the household, I went to Mrs. Scott's room to sit
with her, as she seemed sad and lonely, and at the same time to talk
over with her, womanlike, the events of the day. In our quiet
conversation I remember referring to Archbishop Hughes's address to the
groom, and asked her if she had observed that he had dwelt upon the
bride "be
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