As I Remember Marian Gouverneur 15429 downloads.pdf

The Project Gutenberg eBook of As I Remember
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: As I Remember

Author: Marian Gouverneur

Release date: March 22, 2009 [eBook #28384]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28384

Credits: Produced by Suzanne Lybarger and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS I
REMEMBER ***

Transcriber's Note
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected in
this text. For a complete list, please see the bottom of
this document.

AS I REMEMBER

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. 310
Roswell Randall Hoes, Mrs. William Crawford Johnson

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—Καὶ Χαῖρε
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 "being taken from an
affectionate father," while the remaining members of the family were
entirely ignored. Mrs. Scott immediately bristled up and with much warmth
of feeling said that she had noticed the omission and believed that the action
of the Archbishop was premeditated. Just here was an undercurrent which
as an intimate friend of the family I fully understood. After Virginia Scott's
death at the Georgetown Convent Mrs. Scott was most outspoken in her
denunciation of the Roman Catholic Church, which she felt had robbed her
of her daughter.

Some years after his marriage Charles Carroll McTavish applied to the
Legislature of Maryland for permission to drop his surname and to assume
that of his great-grandfather, Charles Carroll. As this request was
strenuously opposed by other descendants of the Signer, who regarded it as
inexpedient to increase the number of Charles Carrolls, the petition of Mr.
McTavish was not granted. Mary Wellesley McTavish, his sister, I
remember as a sprightly young woman of fine appearance. She made her
début in London society as the guest of her aunt, Mary McTavish, wife of
the Marquis of Wellesley. After a brief courtship she married Henry George
Howard, a son of the Earl of Carlisle, and accompanied him to the
Netherlands, where he was the accredited British Minister. Mrs. George
Bancroft, wife of the historian, who accompanied her husband when he was
our Minister to England, gave me an interesting sketch of Mrs. Howard's
varied life. Death finally claimed her in Paris and her body was brought
back to this country and buried in Maryland, the home of her youth. Her
mother, who brought the remains across the ocean, soon after her
bereavement, established "The House of the Good Shepherd" in Baltimore.
Three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carroll McTavish grew into
womanhood. The elder sisters, Mary and Emily, both of whom were well
known for their beauty and vivacity, entered upon cloistered lives. Just as
the two sisters were about taking this step, they made a request, which
caused much comment, to the effect that they should be assigned to
different convents. I understand that Mrs. McTavish, their mother, is still
living in Rome with the unmarried daughter. During Mrs. Scott's residence
in Paris she was invited to witness the ceremony of "taking the veil" at a
prominent convent, and writing to her family at home she remarked: "How
strange that human beings, knowing the fickleness of their natures, should
bind themselves for life to one limited space and unvarying mode of
existence."
Hoboken, or, as it was sometimes called, Paulus Hook, was a great resort in
my earlier life for residents of the great metropolis. We children,
accompanied by my father or some other grown person, delighted to roam
in that locality over what was most appropriately termed the "Elysian
Fields." Professional landscape-gardening had not then been thought of, but
nature's achievements often surpass the embellishments of man. Our cup of
happiness was full to the brim when we were taken to this entrancing spot

overlooking the Hudson River, with its innumerable sloops, steamboats and
tugs adding so much to the picturesqueness of the scene. As we strolled
along, we regaled ourselves every now and then with a refreshing glass of
mead, a concoction of honey and cold water, purchased from a passing
vender; and when cakes or candy were added to the refreshing drink life
seemed very couleur de rose to our childish dreams. Then again we made
occasional trips up the river, but the steamboats and other excursion craft of
that day were of course mere pigmies compared with those of the present
time. The cabin always had a large dining table, on either side of which was
a line of berths. Guests were called to dinner at one o'clock by the vigorous
ringing of a large bell in the hands of a colored waiter dressed in a white
apron and jacket. I have often thought how surprised and pleased this old-
time servant, universally seen in every well-to-do household in those days,
would be if he could return to earth and hear himself addressed as "butler."
It was upon one of these trips up the Hudson that the widow of General
Alexander Hamilton and her daughter, Mrs. Hamilton Holly, were taking
their mid-day repast, at one end of the long table, when they were informed
that Aaron Burr was partaking of the same meal not far from them. Their
indignation was boundless, and immediately there were two vacant chairs.
Mrs. Holly was a woman of strong intellect, and a friendship which I
formed with her is one of the most cherished memories of my life. She
devoted her widowhood to the care of her aged mother. We often engaged
in confidential conversations, when she would discuss the tragedies which
so clouded her life. I especially remember her dwelling upon the sad history
of her sister, Angelica Hamilton, who, she told me, was in the bloom of
health and surrounded by everything that goes towards making life happy
when her eldest brother, Philip Hamilton, was killed in a duel. He had but
recently been graduated from Columbia College and lost his life in 1801 on
the same spot where, about three years later, his father was killed by Aaron
Burr. This dreadful event affected her so deeply that her mind became
unbalanced, and she was finally placed in an asylum, where she died at a
very advanced age. Mrs. Hamilton lived in Washington, D.C., in one of the
De Menou buildings on H Street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth
Streets, and Mrs. Holly resided in the same city until her death.
Tragedy seemed to pursue the Hamilton family with unrelenting
perseverance until the third generation. In 1858 the legislature of Virginia,

desiring that every native President should repose upon Virginia soil, made
an appropriation for removing the remains of James Monroe from New
York to Richmond. He died on the 4th of July, 1831, while temporarily
residing in New York with his daughter, Mrs. Samuel L. Gouverneur, and
his body was placed in the Gouverneur vault in the Marble Cemetery on
Second Street, east of Second Avenue, where it remained for nearly thirty
years. The disinterment of the remains of this distinguished statesman was
conducted with much pomp and ceremony and the body placed on board of
the steamer Jamestown and conveyed to Richmond, accompanied all the
way by the 7th Regiment of New York which acted as a guard of honor. The
orator of the occasion was John Cochrane, a distinguished member of the
New York bar; while Henry A. Wise, then Governor of Virginia, delivered
an appropriate address at the grave in Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond.
My husband, Samuel L. Gouverneur, junior, Monroe's grandson,
accompanied the remains as the representative of the family. After the
ceremonies in Richmond were completed, but before the 7th Regiment had
embarked upon its homeward voyage, one of its members, Laurens
Hamilton, a grandson of Alexander Hamilton and a son of John C.
Hamilton, was drowned near Richmond. All the proceedings connected
with the removal of Mr. Monroe's remains, both in New York and in
Richmond, were published some years later by Udolpho Wolfe, a neighbor
and admirer of the late President. A copy of the book was presented to each
member of the 7th Regiment and one of them was also given by the
compiler to my husband. A few years later this same New York regiment
invaded Virginia, but under greatly different circumstances. A terrible civil
war was raging, and the Old Dominion for a time was its principal battle
ground.
I recall an amusing anecdote which Mr. Gouverneur told me upon his return
from this visit to Richmond. While the great concourse of people was still
assembled at Monroe's grave in Hollywood Cemetery, Governor Henry A.
Wise, always proud of his State, remarked: "Now we must have all the
native Presidents of Virginia buried within this inclosure." Immediately a
vigorous hand was placed on his shoulder by a New York alderman who
had accompanied the funeral cortège, who exclaimed in characteristic
Bowery vernacular: "Go ahead, Governor, you'll fotch 'em."

The only mode of travel on the Hudson River in my early days was by boat.
One of my recollections is seeing Captain Vanderbilt in command of a
steamboat. I have heard older members of my family say that he designated
himself "Captain Wanderbilt," and that his faithful wife's endearing mode of
accosting him was "Corneil." At any rate, it is well-known that he began life
by operating a rowboat ferry between Staten Island and New York. In later
years a sailboat was substituted over this same route. The Hudson River
Railroad was originally built under the direction of a number of prominent
men in the State who were anything but skilled in such enterprises. In the
beginning of its career, while high officials bestowed fat offices upon
friends and relatives, its finances were in a chaotic condition. It was during
this state of affairs that Commodore Vanderbilt, with a master mind,
grasped the situation and reorganized the whole system, thereby greatly
increasing his own fortune, and placing the railroad upon a sound financial
basis. After such a remarkable career "blindness to the future" seems
unkindly given, as doubtless it would have been a source of great
satisfaction to this Vanderbilt progenitor could he have known before
passing onward that his hard-earned wealth would eventually enrich his
descendants, even the representatives of nobility.
I have before me an invitation to a New York Assembly, dated the 29th of
January, 1841, addressed to my father and mother, which has followed my
wanderings through seventy years. All of the managers, a list of whom I
give, were representative citizens as well as prominent society men of the
day:

Abm. Schermerhorn, J. Swift Livingston,
Edmd. Pendleton, Jacob R. LeRoy,
James W. Otis, Thos. W. Ludlow,
Wm. Douglas, Chas. McEvers, Jr.,
Henry Delafield, William S. Miller,
Henry W. Hicks, Charles C. King.

Abraham Schermerhorn belonged to a wealthy New York family, and
Edmund Pendleton was a Virginian by birth who resided in New York
where he became socially prominent. James W. Otis was of the Harrison
Gray Otis family of Boston and, as I have already stated, I was at school

with his daughter, Sally. William Douglas was a bachelor living in an
attractive residence on Park Place, where he occasionally entertained his
friends. He belonged to a thrifty family of Scotch descent and had two
sisters, Mrs. Douglas Cruger and Mrs. James Monroe, whose husband was a
namesake and nephew of the ex-President. Early in the last century their
mother, Mrs. George Douglas, gave a ball, and I insert some doggerel with
reference to it written by Miss Anne Macmaster, who later became Mrs.
Charles Russell Codman of Boston. These verses are interesting from the
fact that they give the names of many of the belles and beaux of that time:

I meant, my dear Fanny, to give you a call
And tell you the news of the Douglases ball;
But the weather's so bad,—I've a cold in my head,—
And I daren't venture out; so I send you instead
A poetic epistle—for plain humble prose
Is not worthy the joys of this ball to disclose.
To begin with our entrance, we came in at nine,
The two rooms below were prodigiously fine,
And the coup d'oeil was shewy and brilliant 'tis true,
Pretty faces not wanting, some old and some new.
But, oh! my dear cousin, no words can describe
The excess of the crowd—like two swarms in one hive.
The squeezing and panting, the blowing and puffing,
The smashing, the crushing, the snatching, the stuffing,
I'd have given my new dress, at one time, I declare,
(The white satin and roses), for one breath of air!
But oh! how full often I inwardly sighed
O'er the wreck of those roses, so lately my pride;
Those roses, my own bands so carefully placed,
As I fondly believed, with such exquisite taste.
Then to see them so cruelly torn and destroyed
I assure you, my dear, I was vastly annoyed.
The ballroom with garlands was prettily drest,
But a small room for dancing it must be confess'd,
If you chanc'd to get in you were lucky no doubt,
But oh! luckier far, if you chanced to get out!
And pray who were there? Is the question you'll ask.

To name the one half would be no easy task—
There were Bayards and Clarksons, Van Hornes and
LeRoys,
All famous, you well know, for making a noise.
There were Livingstons, Lenoxes, Henrys and Hoffmans,
And Crugers and Carys, Barnewalls and Bronsons,
Delanceys and Dyckmans and little De Veaux,
Gouverneurs and Goelets and Mr. Picot,
And multitudes more that would tire me to reckon,
But I must not forget the pretty Miss Whitten.
No particular belle claimed the general attention,
There were many, however, most worthy of mention.
The lily of Leonards' might hold the first place
For sweetness of manner, and beauty and grace.
Her cousin Eliza and little Miss Gitty
Both danc'd very lightly, and looked very pretty.
The youngest Miss Mason attracted much notice,
So did Susan Le Roy and the English Miss Otis;
Of Beaux there were plenty, some new ones 'tis true,
But I won't mention names, no, not even to you.
I was lucky in getting good partners, however,
Above all, the two Emmetts, so lively and clever.
With Morris and Maitland I danc'd; and with Sedgwick,
Martin Wilkins, young Armstrong and droll William
Renwick.
The old lady was mightily deck'd for the Ball
With Harriet's pearls—and the little one's shawl;
But to give her her due she was civil enough,
Only tiresome in asking the people to stuff.
There was supper at twelve for those who could get it,
I came in too late, but I did not regret it,
For eating at parties was never my passion,
And I'm sorry to see that it's so much the fashion.
After supper, for dancing we'd plenty of room,
And so pleasant it was, that I did not get home
Until three—when the ladies began to look drowsy,
The lamps to burn dim, and the Laird to grow boosy.

The ball being ended, I've no more to tell—
And so, my dear Fanny, I bid you farewell.
In the old pamphlet from which I have already quoted, edited in 1845 by
Moses Y. Beach and compiled for the purpose of furnishing information
concerning the status of New York citizens to banks, merchants and others,
I find the following amusing description of George Douglas: "George
Douglas was a Scotch merchant who hoarded closely. His wine cellar was
more extensive than his library. When George used to see people
speculating and idle it distressed him. He would say: 'People get too many
idees in their head. Why don't they work?' What a blessing he is not alive in
this moonshine age of dreamy schemings." Mr. Beach apparently was not
capable of appreciating a thrifty Scotchman.
This same pamphlet gives an account of a picturesque character whom I
distinctly remember as a highly prominent citizen of New York. His
parentage was involved in mystery, and has remained so until this day. I
refer to Mr. Preserved Fish, the senior member of the firm of Fish, Grinnell
& Co., which subsequently became the prominent business house of
Grinnell, Minturn & Co. Sustained by the apparel peculiar to infants, he
was found floating in the water by some New Bedford fishermen who,
unable to discover his identity, bestowed upon him the uncouth name
which, willingly or unwillingly, he bore until the day of his death. He and
the other members of his firm were originally from New Bedford, one of
the chief centers of the whale fisheries of New England, and came to New
York to attend to the oil and candle industries of certain merchants of the
former city. Few business men in New York in my day were more highly
respected for indomitable energy and personal integrity than Mr. Fish. He
became President of the Tradesmen's Bank, and held other positions of
responsibility and trust. He represented an ideal type of the self-made man,
and in spite of an unknown origin and a ridiculous name battled
successfully with life without a helping hand.
In connection with the Douglas family, I recall a beautiful wedding
reception which, as well as I can remember, took place in the autumn of
1850, at Fanwood, Fort Washington, then a suburb of New York. The bride
was Fanny Monroe, a daughter of Colonel James Monroe, U.S.A., and
granddaughter of Mrs. Douglas of whose ball I have just spoken. The

groom was Douglas Robinson, a native of Scotland. It was a gorgeous
autumn day when the votaries of pleasure and fashion in New York drove
out to Fanwood, where groomsmen of social prominence stood upon the
wide portico to greet the guests and conduct them to the side of the newly
married pair. Mrs. Winfield Scott was our guest in Houston Street at the
time, but did not accompany us to the wedding as no invitation had reached
her. My presence reminded Mrs. Monroe that Mrs. Scott was in New York,
and she immediately inquired why I had not brought her with me. As I gave
the reason both Colonel and Mrs. Monroe seemed exceedingly annoyed. It
seems that her invitation had been sent to Washington but had not been
forwarded to her in New York. In those days Mrs. Scott's distinguished
presence and sparkling repartee, together with the fact that her husband was
Commander-in-Chief of the Army, added luster to every assemblage. The
Army was well represented at this reception and it was truly "the feast of
reason and the flow of soul." Colonel "Jimmy" Monroe was a great favorite
with his former brother-in-arms as he was a genial, whole-souled and
hospitable gentleman. My sister Margaret and I were accompanied to
Fanwood by an army officer, Colonel Donald Fraser, a bachelor whom I
had met some years before at West Point. The paths of the bride and myself
diverged, and it was a very long time before we met again. It was only a
few years ago, while she was residing temporarily in Washington. She was
then, however, a widow and was living in great retirement. She is now
deceased.
When we alighted from our carriage the day of the Monroe-Robinson
wedding at Fanwood a young man whom I subsequently learned was Mr.
Samuel L. Gouverneur, junior, a cousin of the bride, walked over to me,
asked my name and in his capacity of groomsman inquired whether I would
allow him to present me to the bride. I was particularly impressed by his
appearance, as it was unusually attractive. He had raven-black hair, large
bluish-gray eyes and regular features; but what added to his charm in my
youthful fancy was the fact that he had only recently returned from the
Mexican War, in which, as I learned later, he had served with great gallantry
in the 4th Artillery. I had never seen him before, although in thinking the
matter over a few days later I remembered that I had met his mother and
sister in society in New York. I did not see him again until five years later,
when our paths crossed in Washington, and in due time I became his bride.

To return to the New York Assembly in 1841. Henry Delafield, whose name
appears on the card of invitation, belonged to a well-known family. His
father, an Englishman by birth, settled in New York in 1783 and is
described in an early city directory as "John Delafield, Insurance Broker, 29
Water Street." The Delafields were a large family of brothers and were
highly prosperous. I remember once hearing Dr. John W. Francis say: "Put a
Delafield on a desert island in the middle of the ocean, and he will thrive
and prosper." Henry Delafield and his brother William were almost
inseparable. They were twins and strikingly alike in appearance. General
Richard Delafield, U.S.A., for many years Superintendent of the Military
Academy at West Point, was another brother, as was also Dr. Edward
Delafield, a physician of note, who lived in Bleecker Street and in 1839
married Miss Julia Floyd of Long Island, a granddaughter of William Floyd,
one of the New York Signers. About thirty-five years ago three of the
Delafield brothers, Joseph, Henry and Edward, all advanced in life, died
within a few days of each other and were buried in Greenwood Cemetery at
the same time, the funeral taking place from old Trinity Church. On this
occasion all the old customs were observed, and the coffins were made of
solid mahogany.

Samuel L. Gouverneur, Junior.
John Swift Livingston lived in Leonard Street, and I recall very pleasantly a
party which I attended at his house before the marriage of his daughter
Estelle to General John Watts de Peyster. The latter, together with his first
cousins, General "Phil" Kearny and Mrs. Alexander Macomb, inherited an
enormous fortune from his grandfather John Watts, who was one of the
most prominent men of his day and the founder of the Leake and Watts
Orphan House, which is still in existence. John G. Leake was an
Englishman who came to New York to live and, dying without heirs, left his
fortune to Robert Watts, a minor son of John Watts. Robert Watts, however,
did not long survive his benefactor. Upon his death the Leake will was
contested by his relatives, but a decision was rendered in favor of the
nearest kin of the boy, who was his father. After gaining his victory John
Watts established this Orphan House and with true magnanimity placed
Leake's name before his own. Jacob R. LeRoy lived in Greenwich Street
near the Battery, which at this time was a fashionable section of the city. His
sister Caroline, whom I knew, became the second wife of Daniel Webster.
Mr. LeRoy's daughter Charlotte married Rev. Henry de Koven, whose son
is the musical genius, Reginald de Koven. Henry W. Hicks was the son of a
prominent Quaker merchant and a member of the firm of Hicks & Co.,
which did an enormous shipping business until its suspension, about 1847,
owing to foreign business embarrassments. Thomas W. Ludlow was a
wealthy citizen, genial and most hospitably inclined. He owned a handsome
country-seat near Tarrytown, and every now and then it was his pleasure to
charter a steamboat to convey his guests thither; and I recall several
pleasant days I spent in this manner. When we reached the Tarrytown home
a fine collation always awaited us and in its wake came music and dancing.
Charles McEvers, junior, belonged to an old New York family and was one
of the executors of the Vanden Heuvel estate. His niece, Mary McEvers,
married Sir Edward Cunard, who was knighted by Queen Victoria. William
Starr Miller married a niece of Philip Schuyler, who was a woman
possessing many excellent traits of character. As far as I can remember, she
was the only divorced person of those days who was well received in
society, for people with "past histories" were then regarded with marked
disfavor.

CHAPTER VI
SOME DISTINGUISHED ACQUAINTANCES

In close proximity to St. John's Park, during my early life on Hubert Street,
there resided a Frenchman named Laurent Salles, and I have a vivid
recollection of a notable marriage which was solemnized in his mansion.
The groom, Lispenard Stewart, married his daughter, Miss Louise
Stephanie Salles, but the young and pretty bride survived her marriage for
only a few years. She left two children, one of whom is Mrs. Frederick
Graham Lee, whom I occasionally see in Washington, where with her
husband she spends her winters.
When playing in St. John's Park in this same neighborhood, I made the
acquaintance of Margaret Tillotson Kemble, one of the young daughters of
William Kemble already mentioned as living on Beach Street, opposite that
Park. Mr. Kemble was the son of Peter Kemble, member of the prominent
firm of "Gouverneur and Kemble," shipping merchants of New York, which
traded with China and other foreign countries. This firm, the senior
members of which were the brothers Nicholas and Isaac Gouverneur, was
bound together by a close family tie, as Mrs. Peter Kemble was Gertrude
Gouverneur, a sister of the two Gouverneur brothers. My intimacy with
Margaret Tillotson Kemble, formed almost from the cradle, lasted without a
break throughout life. She was a second cousin of my husband and married
Charles J. Nourse, a member of the old Georgetown, D.C., family. The last
years of her life were entirely devoted to good works. Her sister, Mary,
married Dr. Frederick D. Lente, at one time physician to the West Point
foundry, at Cold Spring, N.Y., and subsequently a distinguished general
practitioner in New York and Saratoga Springs. Ellen Kemble, the other
sister, of whom I have already spoken, never married. She was eminent for
her piety, and her whole life was largely devoted to works of charity.
The Kemble house on Beach Street was always a social center and I think I
can truthfully say it was more than a second home to me. Mrs. William
Kemble, who was Miss Margaret Chatham Seth of Maryland, was a woman

of decided social tastes and a most efficient assistant to her husband in
dispensing hospitality. Gathered around her hearthstone was a large family
of girls and boys who naturally added much brightness to the household.
Mr. Kemble was a well-known patron of art and his house became the
rendezvous for persons of artistic tastes. It was in his drawing-room that I
met William Cullen Bryant; Charles B. King of Washington, whose
portraits are so well known; John Gadsby Chapman, who painted the
"Baptism of Pocahontas," now in the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington;
Asher B. Durand, the celebrated artist; and Mr. Kemble's brother-in-law,
James K. Paulding, who at the time was Secretary of the Navy under
President Martin Van Buren. Mr. Kemble was one of the founders of the
Century Club of New York, a life member of the Academy of Design, and
in 1817, at the age of twenty-one, in conjunction with his older brother,
Gouverneur Kemble, established the West Point foundry, which for a long
period received heavy ordnance contracts from the United States
government. The famous Parrott guns were manufactured there. Captain
Robert P. Parrott, their inventor and an army officer, married Mary Kemble,
a sister of Gouverneur and William Kemble, who in early life was regarded
as a beauty. Mr. William Kemble, apart from his artistic tastes, owned a
number of fine pictures, among which was a Sappho by a Spanish master. It
was given to Mrs. Kemble by the grandfather of the late Rear Admiral
Richard W. Meade, U.S.N. When the Kemble family left Beach Street and
moved to West Twenty-fifth Street this picture was sold to Gouverneur
Kemble for $5,000, and placed in his extensive picture gallery at Cold
Spring.
Mrs. William Kemble was a woman of marked ability and an able
raconteurse. Early in life she had been left an orphan and was brought up
by her maternal uncle, Dr. Thomas Tillotson of the Eastern shore of
Maryland, whose wife was Margaret Livingston, a daughter of Judge
Robert R. Livingston and a sister of Chancellor Robert R. Livingston.
Another sister of Mrs. Tillotson was the widow of General Richard
Montgomery, of the Revolutionary War, who fell at the battle of Quebec.
The Tillotsons, Livingstons and Montgomerys all owned fine residences
near Hyde Park on the Hudson; and a close intimacy existed between the
Tillotsons and the Kembles owing to the fact that Mr. Kemble's first cousin,
Emily Gouverneur, married Mrs. Kemble's first cousin, Robert Livingston

Tillotson. William Kemble's younger brother, Richard Frederick, married
Miss Charlotte Morris, daughter of James Morris of Morrisania, N.Y.
The summer home of William Kemble was in a large grove of trees at Cold
Spring and life under its roof was indeed an ideal existence. I was their
constant guest and although it was a simple life it teemed with beauty and
interest. Our days were spent principally out of doors and the sources of
amusement were always near at hand. As all of the Kembles were experts
with the oar, we frequently spent many hours on the Hudson. Another
unfailing source of pleasure was a frequent visit to West Point to witness the
evening parade. As we knew many of the cadets they frequently crossed the
river to take an informal meal or enjoy an hour's talk on the attractive lawn.
Lieutenant Colonel (subsequently General) William J. Hardee, who for a
long time was Commandant of Cadets at West Point, I knew quite well.
Later in his career he was ordered to Washington, where as a widower he
became a social lion, devoting himself chiefly to Isabella Cass, a daughter
of General Lewis Cass. His career in the Confederate Army is too well
known for me to relate. After the Civil War I never saw him again, as he
lived in the South. During one of my visits at the Kembles General Robert
E. Lee was the Superintendent of the West Point Military Academy, but of
him I shall speak hereafter.
Among the cadets whom I recall are Henry Heth of Virginia, an officer who
was subsequently highly esteemed in the Army, and who, at the breaking
out of the Civil War, followed the fortunes of his native state and became a
Major General in the Confederate Army; Innis N. Palmer, whom I met
many years later in Washington when he had attained the rank of General;
and Cadet Daniel M. Beltzhoover of Pennsylvania, a musical genius, who
was a source of great pleasure to us but whose career I have not followed.
At this period in the history of West Point Cozzen's Hotel was the only
hostelry within the military enclosure. A man named Benny Havens kept a
store in close proximity to the Military Academy, but as it was not upon
government territory no cadet was allowed to enter the premises. Although
liquor was his principal stock in trade he kept other articles of merchandise,
but only as a cover for his unlawful traffic. The cadets had their weaknesses
then as now, and as this shop was "forbidden fruit" many of them visited his
resort under the cover of darkness. If caught there "after taps," the

punishment was dismissal. The following selections from a dozen verses
written by Lieutenant Lucius O'Brien, U.S.A., and others, which I
remember hearing the cadets frequently sing, were set to the tune of
"Wearing of the Green":

Come, fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row,
To singing sentimentally, we're going for to go;
In the army there's sobriety, promotion's very slow,
So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!

Oh, Benny Havens, oh!—oh! Benny Havens oh!
So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens,
oh!

Come, fill up to our Generals, God bless the brave heroes,
They're an honor to their country and a terror to her foes;
May they long rest on their laurels and trouble never know,
But live to see a thousand years at Benny Havens, oh!

Here's a health to General Taylor, whose "rough and ready"
blow
Struck terror to the rancheros of braggart Mexico;
May his country ne'er forget his deeds, and ne'er forget to
show
She holds him worthy of a place at Benny Havens, oh!

To the "veni vidi vici" man, to Scott, the great hero,
Fill up the goblet to the brim, let no one shrinking go;
May life's cares on his honored head fall light as flakes of
snow,
And his fair fame be ever great at Benny Havens, oh!

Lieutenant O'Brien died in the winter of 1841 and the following verse to his
memory was fittingly added to his song:

From the courts of death and danger from Tampa's deadly
shore,
There comes a wail of manly grief, "O'Brien is no more,"
In the land of sun and flowers his head lies pillowed low,
No more he'll sing "Petite Coquette" or Benny Havens, oh!

Since then numerous other verses have been added, from time to time, and,
for aught I know to the contrary, the composition is still growing. After the
death of General Scott in 1866 the following verse was added:

Another star has faded, we miss its brilliant glow,
For the veteran Scott has ceased to be a soldier here below;
And the country which he honored now feels a heart-felt
woe,
As we toast his name in reverence at Benny Havens, oh!

I wish that I could recall more of these lines as some of the prominent men
of the Army were introduced in the most suggestive fashion. Benny Havens
doubtless has been sleeping his last sleep for these many years, but I am
sure that some of these verses are still remembered by many of the
surviving graduates of West Point.
In the vicinity of William Kemble's cottage at Cold Spring was the
permanent home of his older brother, Gouverneur Kemble. For a few years
during his earlier life he served as U.S. Consul at Cadiz, under the
administration of President Monroe. His Cold Spring home was of historic
interest and for many years was the scene of lavish hospitality. General
Scott once remarked that he was "the most perfect gentleman in the United
States." The most distinguished men of the day gathered around his table,
and every Saturday night through the entire year a special dinner was
served at five o'clock—Mr. Kemble despised the habitual three o'clock
dinners of his neighbors—which in time became historic entertainments.
This meal was always served in the picture gallery, an octagonal room filled
with valuable paintings, while breakfast and luncheon were served in an
adjoining room. All of the professors and many of the officers at West
Point, whom Mr. Kemble facetiously termed "the boys," had a standing
invitation to these Saturday evening dinners. There was an agreement,
however, among the younger officers that too many of them should not

partake of his hospitality at the same time, as his dining table would not
accommodate more than thirty guests. How well I remember these older
men, all of whom were officers in the Regular Army: Professors William H.
C. Bartlett, Dennis H. Mahan, the father of Captain Alfred T. Mahan,
U.S.N., Albert E. Church, and Robert W. Weir. If by any chance Mr.
Kemble, or "Uncle Gouv," as he was generally known to the family
connection, was obliged to be absent from home, these entertainments took
place just the same, presided over by his sister, Mrs. Robert P. Parrott.
Indeed, I recall that during a tour of Europe Mr. Kemble made with ex-
President Van Buren these Saturday dinner parties were continued for at
least a year.
Carving was considered a fine art in those days, an accomplishment which
has largely gone out of style since the introduction of dinner à la Russe. A
law existed in Putnam County, in which Cold Spring is situated, which
forbade the killing of game during certain months in the year. When a
transgressor of this law succeeded in "laying low" a pair of pheasants, they
were nicknamed "owls"; and I have seen two "owls" which, under these
circumstances, were almost unobtainable, carved in such a proficient
manner by "Uncle Gouv" that, although we numbered over a score, each
person received a "satisfying" piece. His guests were most appreciative of
his hospitality, and I once heard General Scott say that he would be willing
to walk at least ten miles to be present at a dinner at Gouverneur Kemble's.
His wines were always well selected as well as abundant. I have often
known him to have a house party of many guests who had the privilege of
remaining indefinitely if they so desired. The actress Fanny Kemble and her
father, though not related to the New York family, were guests in his home
during one of their visits to America. She was a great pedestrian, and I
recall having a small stream of water in the vicinity of Cold Spring called to
my notice where, during her rambles, she was known to stop and bathe her
feet.
Long before the War of the Revolution, Mr. Kemble's aunt, Margaret
Kemble, married General Thomas Gage, Commander-in-Chief of the
British forces in that conflict, and resided with him in England. While I was
living in Frederick, Maryland, I sent "Uncle Gouv"—he was then an old
man and very appreciative of any attention—a photograph of Whittier's
heroine, Barbara Frietchie. He in turn sent it to Viscount Henry Gage, a

relative of the British General. The English nobleman who was familiar
with the Quaker poet seemed highly pleased to own the picture and
commented favorably upon the firm expression of the mouth and chin of
this celebrated woman.
Army officers were frequently stationed at Cold Spring to inspect the guns
cast at the Kemble foundry. Among these I recall with much pleasure Major
Alfred Mordecai of the Ordnance Corps. He was a highly efficient officer
and previous to the Civil War rendered conspicuous service to his country.
He was a Southerner and at the beginning of the war is said to have
requested the War Department to order him to some duty which did not
involve the killing of his kinsmen. His request was denied and his
resignation followed.
In the midst of the Civil War, after a protracted absence from the country in
China, I arrived in New York, and one of the first items of news that was
told me was that the West Point foundry was casting guns for the
Confederacy. I speedily learned that this rumor was altogether unfounded. It
seems that some time before the beginning of hostilities the State of
Georgia ordered some small rifled cannon from the West Point foundry with
the knowledge and consent of the Chief of the Ordnance Department,
General Alexander B. Dyer. Colonel William J. Hardee, then Commandant-
of-Cadets, was selected to inspect these guns before delivery; but when they
were finished the war-cloud had grown to such proportions that Robert P.
Parrott, the head of the foundry at the time, Gouverneur Kemble having
retired from active business eight or ten years previously, refused to
forward them. They lay at the foundry for some time, and were afterwards
bought by private parties from New York City and presented to the
government, thereby doing active service against the Confederacy. In his
interesting book recently published entitled "Retrospections of an Active
Life," Mr. John Bigelow refers to this unfortunate rumor. He says: "On the
21st of January, 1861, I met the venerable Professor Weir, of the West Point
Military Academy, in the cars on our way to New York, when he told me
that Colonel Hardee, then the Commandant-of-Cadets at the Academy, was
buying arms for his native state of Georgia, and that the Kembles, whose
iron works were across the river from West Point at Cold Spring, were
filling a large order for him." I knew Professor Weir very well, and Mr.
Bigelow's statement, I think, is a mistake, as all of the professors at West

Point were too loyal to Mr. Gouverneur Kemble to allow wild rumors
engendered by war to remain uncontradicted.
This seems a fitting place to recall the pleasant friendship I made with
General Robert E. Lee long before he became the Southern chieftain. I have
already stated that when I visited Cold Spring in other days he was
Superintendent of the U.S. Military Academy. He was a constant visitor at
the Kembles, and his imposing presence and genial manner are so well
known as to render a description of them altogether superfluous. Some
years later when I was visiting at the home of General Winfield Scott in
Washington I renewed my pleasing friendship with him. There existed
between these two eminent soldiers a life-long attachment, and when the
Civil War was raging it seemed almost impossible to realize that Scott and
Lee represented opposite political views, as hitherto they had always
seemed to be so completely in accord.
The Cold Spring colony was decidedly sociable, and a dinner party at one
of the many cottages was almost a daily occurrence. Captain and Mrs.
Robert P. Parrott entertained most gracefully, and their residence was one of
the show-places of that locality. I have heard Captain Parrott facetiously
remark that he had "made a loud noise in the world" by the aid of his guns.
The first time I ever saw Washington Irving, with whom I enjoyed an
extended friendship, was when he was a guest of Gouverneur Kemble. The
intimate social relations existing between these two friends began in early
life, and lasted throughout their careers, having been fostered by a frequent
interchange of visits. In his earlier life Mr. Kemble inherited from his
relative, Nicholas Gouverneur, a fine old estate near Newark, New Jersey,
which bore the name of "Mount Pleasant." Washington Irving, however,
rechristened the place "Cockloft Hall," and in a vein of mirth dubbed the
bachelor-proprietor "The Patroon." Irving described this retreat in his
"Salmagundi," and the characters there depicted which have been thought
by many to be fanciful creations were in reality Gouverneur Kemble and his
many friends. His place was subsequently sold, but the intimacy between
the two men continued, and it has always seemed to me that there was much
pathos connected with their friendship. Both of them were bachelors and
owned homes of more than passing historic interest on the Hudson. Irving
called Kemble's residence at Cold Spring "Bachelor's Elysium," while to his

own he applied the name of "Wolfert's Roost." In the spring of 1856 in
writing to Kemble he said: "I am happy to learn that your lawn is green. I
hope it will long continue so, and yourself likewise. I shall come up one of
these days and have a roll on it with you"; and Kemble, upon another
occasion, in urging Irving to visit him added as an inducement, "come and
we will have a game of leap-frog." Referring to their last meeting Irving
said of Kemble: "That is my friend of early life—always unchanged, always
like a brother, one of the noblest beings that ever was created. His heart is
pure gold." That was in the summer of 1859, and in the following
November Irving died, at the ripe old age of seventy-six. Constant in life,
let us hope that in death they are not separated, and that in the Silent Land

No morrow's mischief knocks them up.

Let the cynic who spurns the consoling influences of friendship ponder
upon the life-intimacy of these two old men who, throughout the cares and
turmoils of a long and engrossing existence, illustrated so beautifully the
charm of such a benign relationship.
Irving impressed me as having a genial but at the same time a retiring
nature. He was of about the average height and, although quite advanced in
years when I knew him, his hair had not changed color. His manner was
exceeding gentle and, strange to say, with such a remarkable vocabulary at
his command, in society he was exceedingly quiet. In his early life Irving
was engaged to be married to one of his own ethereal kind, but she passed
onward, and among his friends the subject was never broached as it seemed
too sacred to dwell upon. Her name was Matilda Hoffman and she was a
daughter of the celebrated jurist of New York, Judge Josiah Ogden
Hoffman. She died in 1809 in her eighteenth year.
My last meeting with Irving is vividly impressed upon my memory as the
occasion was quite memorable. I was passing the winter in Washington as
the guest of my elder sister, Mrs. Eames, who a few years before had
married Charles Eames, Esq., of the Washington Bar. Irving, who was then
seventy-two years old, was making a brief visit to the Capital and called to
see me. This was in 1855, when William M. Thackeray was on his second
visit to this country and delivering his celebrated lectures upon "The Four
Georges." I had scarcely welcomed Mr. Irving into my sister's drawing-

room when Thackeray was announced, and I introduced the two famous but
totally dissimilar men to each other. Thackeray was a man of powerful build
and a very direct manner, but to my mind was not an individual to be
overpowered by sentiment. I can not remember after the flight of so many
years the nature of the conversation between Irving and Thackeray apart
from the mutual interchange that ordinarily passes between strangers when
casually presented.
Later I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Thackeray quite a number of times
during his sojourn in Washington where he was much lionized in society.
One evening we were all gathered around the family tea table when he
chanced to call and join us in that cup which is said to cheer. He entered
into conversation with much enthusiasm, especially when he referred to his
children. He seemed to have a special admiration for a young daughter of
his, and related many pleasing anecdotes of her juvenile aptitude. I think he
referred to Anne Isabella Thackeray (Lady Richie), who gave to the public a
biographical edition of her father's famous works. I remember we drifted
into a conversation upon a recently published novel, but the title of the book
and its author I do not recall. At any rate, he was discussing its heroine,
who, under some extraordinary stress of circumstances, was forced to walk
many miles in her stocking-feet to obtain succor, and the whole story was
thrilling in the extreme; whereupon the author of "Vanity Fair" exclaimed,
"She was shoeicidal." Although he was an Englishman, he was not averse to
a pun—even a poor one! I remember asking Mr. Thackeray whether during
his visit to New York he had met Mrs. De Witt Clinton. His response was
characteristic: "Yes, and she is a gay old girl!"
James K. Paulding, the distinguished author who married the sister of
Gouverneur and William Kemble and lived at Hyde Park, farther up the
Hudson, frequently formed one of the pleasant coterie that gathered around
"Uncle Gouv's" board. "The Sage of Lindenwald," as ex-President Martin
Van Buren was frequently called by both friend and foe, also repeatedly
came from his home in Kinderhook to dine with Mr. Kemble, and these
memories call to mind a dinner I attended at "Uncle Gouv's" when Mr. Van
Buren was the principal guest. Although it was many years after his
retirement from the presidential office, the impression he made upon me
was that of a quiet, deliberate old gentleman, who continued to be well
versed in the affairs of state.

A short distance from Cold Spring is Garrison's, where many wealthy New
Yorkers have their country seats. Putnam County, in which both Garrison's
and Cold Spring are located, was once a portion of Philipse Manor. The
house in the "Upper Manor," as this tract of land was called, was The
Grange, but over forty years ago it was burned to the ground. It was
originally built by Captain Frederick Philips about 1800, and was the scene
of much festivity. The Philipses were tories during the Revolution, and it is
said that this property would doubtless have been confiscated by the
government but for the fact that Mary Philips, who was Captain Frederick
Philips' only child, was a minor at the close of the war in 1783. Mary
Philips, whose descendants have spelled the name with a final e, married
Samuel Gouverneur, and their eldest son, Frederick Philipse Gouverneur,
dropped the name Gouverneur as a surname and assumed that of Philipse in
order to inherit a large landed estate of which The Grange was a
conspicuous part.
When I first visited Garrison's the Philipse family was living at The Grange
in great elegance. Frederick Philipse was then a bachelor and his maiden
sister, Mary Marston Gouverneur, presided over his establishment. Another
sister, Margaret Philipse Gouverneur, married William Moore, a son of the
beloved physician, Dr. William Moore of New York, a nephew of President
Benjamin Moore of Columbia College and a first cousin of Clement C.
Moore who wrote the oft quoted verses, "'Twas the Night before
Christmas," which have delighted the hearts of American children for so
many decades.
Frederick Philipse subsequently married Catharine Wadsworth Post, a
member of a prominent family of New York. It was while Mr. and Mrs.
Philipse were visiting her relatives that The Grange was destroyed by fire.
Miss Mary Marston Gouverneur had ordered the chimneys cleaned, in the
manner then prevalent, by making a fire in the chimney place on the first
floor, in order to burn out the débris. The flames fortunately broke out on
the top story, thus enabling members of the family to save many valuable
heirlooms in the lower apartments. Among the paintings rescued and now in
the possession of Frederick Philipse's daughters, the Misses Catharine
Wadsworth Philipse and Margaret Gouverneur Philipse of New York, was
the portrait of the pretty Mary Philipse, Washington's first love. Tradition
states she refused his offer of marriage to become the bride of Roger

Morris, an officer in the British Army. It is generally believed that she was
the heroine of Cooper's "Spy;" but she had then laid aside the belleship of
early youth and had become the intellectual matron of after years. Some of
the other portraits rescued were those of Adolphus Philipse, second son of
the first Lord of the Manor; Philip Philipse, and his wife, Margaret Marston,
whose second husband was the Rev. John Ogilvie, for many years assistant
minister of Trinity Church of New York; Margaret Philipse, younger sister
of Mary, who married Roger Morris; Captain Frederick Philips, by Gilbert
Stuart; Mrs. Samuel Gouverneur; Nathaniel Marston and his wife, Mary
Crooke; and Mrs. Abraham Gouverneur who was the daughter of Jacob
Leisler, at one time the Acting Governor of the Province of New York.
One visit I made to the Philipses at Garrison's is especially fresh in my
memory, as Eleanor Jones Duer, a daughter of President William A. Duer of
Columbia College, who subsequently married George T. Wilson of Georgia,
was their guest at the same time. She was a woman of much culture and
refinement, and in every way a delightful companion. A great intimacy
existed for many years between the Gouverneurs and Philipses of Garrison's
and the Duer family of New York. The Philipses, who at this time lived very
much in the old-fashioned style, were the last of the old families with which
I was familiar to have the cloth removed after the dessert was served; and in
doing this an elegant mahogany table always kept in a highly polished
condition was displayed. Upon it were placed the fruits, nuts and wine.
Another custom in the Philipse family which, as far as I know, was unique
in this country was that of having four meals a day. Breakfast was served at
eight, luncheon at one, dinner at six and supper at nine o'clock.
During another visit I made at The Grange I had the pleasure of meeting
Mr. and Mrs. Henry Sheaffe Hoyt (Frances Maria Duer), who were house
guests there and who had just returned from an extended European tour. She
was another daughter of President Duer of Columbia College and died not
long ago in Newport, R.I., at a very advanced age. Mrs. John King Van
Rensselaer, a daughter of Mrs. Archibald Gracie King (Elizabeth Denning
Duer), is her niece.
Before leaving the banks of the Hudson River I must speak of my former
associations with Newburgh. From my earliest life we children were in the
habit of making frequent visits to my mother's relatives, the Roe family,

who resided there. We all eagerly looked forward to these trips up the
Hudson which were made upon the old Thomas Powell and later upon the
Mary Powell. My mother's relative, Maria Hazard, married William Roe,
one of the most highly respected and prosperous citizens of Newburgh.
They lived in a stately mansion surrounded by several acres of land in the
heart of the city. Mrs. Roe was a remarkable woman. I knew her only as an
elderly matron; but, like women of advanced age in China, where I spent a
number of years of my early married life, she controlled everyone who
came within her "sphere of influence." I remember, for example, that upon
one occasion when I was visiting her, Thomas Hazard Roe, her elder son,
who at the time was over sixty years of age and a bachelor and who desired
to go upon some hunting expedition, said to her: "Mother, have I your
permission to go to the Adirondacks?" She thought for a few moments and
replied: "Well, Hazard, I think you might go."
About the year 1840 Newburgh was recommended by two of the earliest
prominent homeopathic physicians of New York City, Doctors John F. Gray
and Amos G. Hull, as a locality well-adapted to people affected with
delicate lungs, and upon their advice many families built handsome
residences there. In my early recollection Newburgh had a fine hotel called
the Powelton, which bade fair to become a prominent resort for New
Yorkers. In the zenith of its prosperity, however, it was burned to the ground
and was never rebuilt. I hardly think that anyone will have the assurance to
dispute the healthfulness of this place when I state that my cousin, Thomas
Hazard Roe, of whom I have just spoken, died there in 1907 after having
more than rounded a full century of years. He was in many ways a
remarkable man with a mind well stored with knowledge, and he retained
all of his mental faculties unclouded until the end of his life. His sister,
Mary Elizabeth, the widow of the late William C. Hasbrouck, a prominent
Newburgh lawyer and a few years his junior, also died quite recently in
Newburgh at the age of ninety-seven. Her son, General Henry C.
Hasbrouck, U.S.A., also died but a short time since, but her daughter, Miss
Maria Hasbrouck, whose whole life has been devoted to her family, still
resides in the old homestead. The third and youngest member of this
interesting trio, Miss Emily Maria Roe, is now living in Newburgh at an
advanced age, surrounded by a large connection and beloved by everyone.

One of the most prominent families in Newburgh in years gone by was that
of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Powell, from whom the celebrated river boats were
named. Mrs. Powell's maiden name was Mary Ludlow, and she belonged to
a well-known New York family. Her brother, Lieutenant Augustus C.
Ludlow, who was second in command on board the Chesapeake, under
Captain James Lawrence of "Don't give up the ship" fame, is buried by the
latter's side in old Trinity church-yard in New York. Mrs. Powell took great
pride and pleasure in the boat named in her honor, the Mary Powell, and I
have frequently seen her upon my trips up the Hudson, sitting upon the
deck of her namesake and chatting pleasantly with those around her.
Newburgh was also the home of Andrew Jackson Downing, the author of
"Landscape Gardening," "Cottage Residences," and other similar works. I
received my first knowledge of horticulture from a visit I made to his
beautiful residence, which was surrounded by several acres. It was my
earliest view of nature assisted by art, and to my untutored eye his lawn was
a veritable Paradise. Some years later, when I was visiting the Scotts in
Washington, Mr. Downing called and during our conversation told me that
he had come to the Capital, upon the invitation of the government, to lay
out the Smithsonian grounds. His wife was Miss Caroline De Wint of
Fishkill, New York, a granddaughter of Mrs. Henry William Smith (Abigail
Adams), the only daughter of President John Adams who reached maturity.
After spending some months in Washington, Mr. Downing was returning to
his Newburgh home when the Henry Clay, a Hudson River steamboat upon
which he had taken passage, was destroyed by fire and he perished while
attempting to rescue some of the passengers. This was in 1852.
There are some persons still living who will readily recall, in connection
with social functions, the not uncommon name of Brown. The particular
Brown to whom I refer was the sexton of Grace Episcopal Church, on the
corner of Broadway and Tenth Street, where many of the soi-disant crème
de la crème worshiped. He must have possessed a christian name, but if so I
never heard it for he was only plain Brown, and Brown he was called. He
was born before the days when spurious genealogical charts are thrust at
one, nolens volens; but probably this was lucky for him and the public was
spared much that is uninteresting. In connection with his duties at Grace
Church he came in contact with many fashionable people, and was enabled
to add materially to his rather small income by calling carriages from the

doorsteps for the society folk of the great metropolis. In this and other ways
his pursuits gradually became so varied that in time he might have been
safely classed among the dilettanti. The most remarkable feature of his
career, however, was the fact that, in spite of his humble calling, he became
a veritable social dictator, and many an ambitious mother with a thousand-
dollar ball upon her hands (this being about the usual sum spent upon an
evening entertainment at that time), lacked the courage to embark upon
such a venture without first seeking an interview with Brown. I knew but
little about his powers of discrimination, as we as a family never found his
services necessary, but when requested I know he furnished to these
dependent hostesses lists of eligible young men whom he deemed proficient
in the polka and mazurka, the fashionable dances of the day. Strange as it
may appear, I can vouch for the truth of the statement that many an
exclusive hostess was glad to avail herself of these lists of the
accommodating Brown. The dances just mentioned were, by the way,
introduced into this country by Pierro Saracco, an Italian master who taught
me to dance, and who was quite popular in the fashionable circles of his
day. Many years later, when I was residing in Maryland, he came to
Frederick several times a week and gave dancing lessons to my two older
daughters.
Brown was a pleasant, genial, decidedly "hail-fellow-well-met" man, as I
remember him, and was in a way the precursor of Ward McAllister, though
of course on a decidedly more unpretentious plane. One cannot but express
surprise at the consideration with which Brown's protégés were treated by
the élite, nor can one deny that the social destinies of many young men
were the direct result of his strenuous efforts. I remember, for example, one
of these who at the time was "a youth to fortune and to fame unknown,"
whom Brown took under his sheltering wing and whose subsequent social
career was shaped by him. He is of foreign birth, with a pleasing exterior
and address and, through the instrumentality of his humble friend who gave
him his first start, is to-day, although advanced in life, one of the most
conspicuous financiers in New York, and occasionally has private audiences
with presidents and other magnates. Moreover, I feel certain that he will
welcome this humble tribute to his benefactor with much delight, as the
halo which now surrounds his brow he owes in a large degree to his early
introduction into the smart set by the sexton of Grace Church. The last I

ever heard of Brown, he visited Europe. After his return from his well-
earned holiday he died and was laid to rest in his own native soil. Peace to
Brown's ashes—his work was well done! It cannot be said of him, as of
many others, that he lived in vain, as he was doubtless the forerunner of the
later and more accomplished leader and dictator of New York's "Four
Hundred."
A poetaster paid him the following facetious tribute:

Oh, glorious Brown, thou medley strange
Of churchyard, ballroom, saint, and sinner,
Flying by morn through fashion's range
And burying mortals after dinner.
Walking one day with invitations,
Passing the next at consecrations,
Tossing the sod at eve on coffins,
With one hand drying tears of orphans,
And one unclasping ballroom carriage,
Or cutting plumcake up for marriage;
Dusting by day the pew and missal,
Sounding by night the ballroom whistle,
Admitted free through fashion's wicket,
And skilled at psalms, at punch, and cricket.

An amusing anecdote is told of Brown's financial protégé whose name I
have withheld. When he was still somewhat uncertain of his social status he
received an invitation to a fancy ball given by a fashionable matron. This
recognition he regarded as a conspicuous social triumph, and in his desire to
do the proper thing he sought William R. Travers—"Bill Travers," as he was
generally called—to ask his advice in regard to the proper costume for him
to wear. The inquiring social aspirant had a head well-denuded of hair, and
Mr. Travers, after a moment's hesitation, wittingly replied: "Sugarcoat your
head and go as a pill!"
Though not a professional wit, Brown was at least capable of making a pun
quite equal to those inflicted upon society by some of his superiors. As
sexton of Grace Church, he officiated at the wedding of Miss Phoebe Lord,
a daughter of Daniel Lord, whose marriage to Henry Day, a rising young

lawyer, was solemnized in this edifice. At the close of the reception
following the marriage ceremony someone laughingly called upon Brown
for a toast. He was equal to the occasion as he quickly replied: "This is the
Lord's Day!"

CHAPTER VII
FASHION AND LETTERS

One of the show places of New York State, many years ago, was the
residence of John Greig, a polished Scotch gentleman who presided with
dignity over his princely estate in Canandaigua in central New York, and
there dispensed a generous hospitality. Mr. Greig was the agent for some of
the English nobility, many of whom owned extensive tracts of land in
America. The village of Canandaigua was also the home of the Honorable
Francis Granger, a son of Gideon Granger, Postmaster General under
Jefferson and Madison. Francis Granger was the Postmaster General for a
brief period under President William Henry Harrison, but the latter died
soon after his inauguration and his successor did not retain him in his
cabinet. It is said of Francis Granger that he was a firm believer in the
words of ex-Governor William L. Marcy in the United States Senate in
1832 that "to the victors belong the spoils of the enemy," and that during his
month of cabinet service eighteen hundred employees in his department
were dismissed. The Democrats evidently thought that "turn about was fair
play," as a few years later, under President Polk, the work of decapitation
was equally active. Ransom H. Gillett, Register of the Treasury at that time,
became so famous at head-chopping, that he was soon nicknamed
"Guillotine."
Mr. Granger, with his fine physique and engaging manner (he was often
called "the handsome Frank Granger"), was well adapted to the
requirements of social life and especially to those of the National Capital,
where the beaux esprits usually congregated. His only daughter, Adele
Granger, often called "the witty Miss Granger," was at school at Madame
Chegaray's with my elder sister Fanny, and in my earlier life was frequently
a guest in our Houston Street home, prior to her sojourn in Washington,
where her father for many years represented his district in Congress. We
looked forward to her visits as one anticipates with delight a ray of
sunshine. She was always assured of the heartiest of welcomes in
Washington, where she was the center of a bright and intellectual circle. She

finally married Mr. John E. Thayer, a Boston capitalist, and after his death
became the wife of the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop of the same city. She
presided with grace over a summer home in Brookline and a winter
residence in Boston, at both of which she received hosts of distinguished
guests. To illustrate the importance with which she was regarded, one of her
guests remarked to me, during one of my visits at the Brookline home, that
Mrs. Winthrop was more than one woman—that in that locality she was
considered an "institution." In the latter part of Mr. Winthrop's life I
received a very graceful note from him enclosing the following ode written
by him in honor of the golden jubilee of Queen Victoria:
Boston, Mass.
90 Marlborough Street, 20 Feb'y 1888.
Dear Mrs. Gouverneur:
Your kind note and the pamphlet reached me this morning. I
thank you for them both.
I have lost no time in hunting up a spare copy of my little Ode
on the Queen's Jubilee.
I threw it into a newspaper with not a little misgiving. I certainly
did not dream that it would be asked for by a lady seven or eight
months after its date. I appreciate the compliment.
Yours truly,
Robt. C. Winthrop.
Mrs. M. Gouverneur.
ODE.

Not as our Empress do we come to greet thee,
Augusta Victoria,
On this auspicious Jubilee:
Wide as old England's realms extend,
O'er earth and sea,—
Her flag in every clime unfurled,

Her morning drum-beat compassing the world,—
Yet here her sway Imperial finds an end,
In our loved land of Liberty!

Nor is it as our Queen for us to hail thee,
Excellent Majesty,
On this auspicious Jubilee:
Long, long ago our patriot fathers broke
The tie which bound us to a foreign yoke,
And made us free;
Subjects thenceforward of ourselves alone,
We pay no homage to an earthly throne,—
Only to God we bend the knee!

Still, still, to-day and here, thou hast a part,
Illustrious Lady,
In every honest Anglo-Saxon heart,
Albeit untrained to notes of loyalty:
As lovers of our old ancestral race,—
In reverence for the goodness and the grace
Which lends thy fifty years of Royalty
A monumental glory on the Historic page,
Emblazoning them forever as the Victorian Age;

For all the virtue, faith and fortitude,
The piety and truth
Which mark thy noble womanhood,
As erst thy golden youth,—
We also would do honor to thy name,
Joining our distant voices to the loud acclaim
Which rings o'er earth and sea,
In attestation of the just renown
Thy reign has added to the British Crown!

Meanwhile no swelling sounds of exultation
Can banish from our memory,
On this auspicious Jubilee,
A saintly figure standing at thy side,

The cherished consort of thy power and pride,
Through weary years the subject of thy tears,
And mourned in every nation,—
Whose latest words a wrong to us withstood,
The friend of peace,—Albert, the Wise and Good!
Robert C. Winthrop.
Boston, June, 1887.
At Geneseo, in the beautiful Genesee Valley, and a few miles from
Canandaigua, in one of the most fertile portions of the State of New York,
resided a contemporary and friend of Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop, Miss
Elizabeth Wadsworth, a daughter of James Wadsworth, a well-known
philanthropist and one of the wealthiest landed proprietors in the state. He
was also the father of Major General James S. Wadsworth, a defeated
candidate for Governor of New York, who was killed in 1864 at the battle
of the Wilderness. Miss Wadsworth was celebrated for her grace of manner.
I had the pleasure of knowing her quite well in New York, where she
generally passed her winters. Quite early in life and before the period when
the fair daughters of America had discovered, to any great extent, the
advantages of matrimonial alliances with foreign partis, she married the
Honorable Charles Augustus Murray, a member of the English Parliament
and of a Scotch family, the head of which was the Earl of Dunmore. She
lived but a few years, and died in Egypt, where her husband was Consul
General, leaving a young son. Her husband's ancestor, John Murray, Lord
Dunmore, was the last Colonial Governor of Virginia. It has been asserted
that but few, if any, Colonial Governors, not even the sportive Lord
Cornbury of New York who, upon state occasions, dressed himself up in
female attire in compliment to his royal cousin, Queen Anne, had quite as
eventful a career. Lord Dunmore originally came to America as Governor of
the Province of New York, but was subsequently transferred to Virginia.
While in New York he was made President of the St. Andrew's Society, a
Scotch organization which had been in existence about twenty years and
whose first President was Philip Livingston, the Signer. In an old New York
directory of 1798 I find the following names of officers of this society for
the preceding year: Walter Ruturfurde (sic), President; Peter M'Dougall and
George Turnbull, Vice Presidents; George Douglass, Treasurer; George

Johnson, Secretary; John Munro, Assistant Secretary; the Rev. John M.
Mason and the Rev. John Bisset, Chaplains; Dr. James Tillary, Physician;
and William Renwick, James Stuart, John Knox, Alexander Thomson,
Andrew D. Barclay, and John M'Gregor, Managers.
It was not at all flattering to the pride of Virginia that Lord Dunmore
lingered so long in New York after his order of transfer to the Old
Dominion. He also greatly incurred the displeasure of the Virginians by
occasionally dissolving their Assembly, and they found him generally
inimical to their interests. Finally matters were brought to an issue, and
Dunmore, in defense of his conduct, issued a proclamation against "a
certain Patrick Henry and his deluded followers." His final act was the
burning of Norfolk in 1776, which at that time was the most flourishing city
in Virginia. During Lord Dunmore's life in Colonial Virginia, a daughter
was born to him and at the request of the Assembly was named "Virginia."
It is said that subsequently a provision was made by the Provincial
Legislature, by virtue of which she was to receive a very large sum of
money when she became of age. Meanwhile, the War of the Revolution
severed the yoke of Great Britain, and Lord Dunmore returned to England
with his family. Time passed and the little girl born in the Virginia colony
grew into womanhood. Her father had died and as her circumstances
became contracted she addressed a letter to Thomas Jefferson, then
President of the United States, under the impression that he was Governor
of Virginia. Jefferson sent the letter to James Monroe, who was then
Governor of Virginia, and he in turn referred it to the Legislature of that
State. This letter is now in my possession and is as follows:
Sir:
I am at a loss how to begin a letter in which I am desirous of
stating claims that many long years have been forgotten, but
which I think no time can really annihilate until fulfilment has
followed the promise. I imagine that you must have heard that
during my father Dunmore's residence in America I was born
and that the Assembly, then sitting at Williamsburg, requested
that I might be their God-daughter and christened by the name
of Virginia; which request being complied with, they purposed
providing for me in a manner suitable to the honor they

conferred upon me and to the responsibility they had taken on
themselves. I was accordingly christened as the God-daughter of
that Assembly and named after the State. Events have since
occurred which in some measure may have altered the intentions
then expressed in my favor. These were (so I have understood)
that a sum of money should be settled upon me which,
accumulating during my minority, would make up the sum of
one hundred thousand pounds when I became of age. It is true
many changes may have taken place in America, but that fact
still remains the same. I am still the God-daughter of the
Virginians. By being that, may I not flatter myself I have some
claims upon their benevolence if not upon their justice? May I
not ask that State, especially you, sir, their Governor, to fulfil in
some respects the engagements entered into by their
predecessors? Your fathers promised mine that I should become
their charge. I am totally unprovided for; for my father died
without making a will. My brothers are married, having families
of their own; and not being bound to do anything for me, they
regard with indifference my unprotected and neglected situation.
Perhaps I ought not to mention this circumstance as a proper
inducement for you to act upon; nor would I, were it not my
excuse for wishing to remind you of the claims I now advance. I
hope you will feel my right to your favor and protection to be
founded on the promises made by your own fathers, and in the
situation in which I stand with regard to the State of Virginia.
You will ask, sir, why my appeal to your generosity and justice
has been so tardy. While my father lived, I lived under his
protection and guidance. He had incurred the displeasure of the
Virginians and he feared an application from me would have
seemed like one from him. At his decease I became a free agent.
I had taken no part which could displease my God-fathers, and
myself remained what the Assembly had made me—their God-
daughter, consequently their charge. I wish particularly to
enforce my dependence upon your bounty; for I feel hopes
revive, which owe their birth to your honor and generosity, and
to that of the State whose representative I now address. Now
that my father is no more, I am certain they and you will

remember what merited your esteem in his character and
conduct and forget that which estranged your hearts from so
honorable a man. But should you not, you are too just to visit
what you deem the sins of the father upon his luckless daughter.
I am, sir, your obt. etc.
In 1831 the small but pretty Gramercy Park in New York was established by
Samuel B. Ruggles. I have heard that this plot of ground was originally
used as a burying ground by Trinity parish. As I first recollect the spot,
there were but four or five dwellings in its vicinity. One of the earliest was
built by James W. Gerard, a prominent lawyer, who was regarded as a most
venturesome pioneer to establish his residence in such a remote locality.
Next door to Mr. Gerard, a few years later, lived George Belden, whose
daughter Julia married Frederick S. Tallmadge. Mr. Tallmadge died only a
few years ago, highly respected and esteemed by a large circle of friends.
In 1846 I was one of the guests at a fashionable wedding in a residence on
the west side of this park, which was possibly the first ceremony of the kind
to take place in this then remote region. The bride's mother, the widow of
Richard Armistead of New Bern, N.C., who habitually spent her winters in
New York, had purchased the house only a few months previously. The
bride, Susan Armistead, was an intimate friend of mine, and a well-known
belle in both the North and the South. The groom, a resident of New York,
was John Still Winthrop, of the same family as the Winthrops of
Massachusetts. The guests composed an interesting assemblage of the old
régime, many of whose descendants are now in the background. I met on
that occasion many old friends, among whom the Kings, Gracies,
Winthrops and Rogers predominated. Mrs. De Witt Clinton honored the
occasion, dressed in the fashion of a decade or two previous. Her presence
was a very graceful act as she then but seldom appeared in society, her only
view of the gay world being from her own domain. Her peculiarity in
regard to dress was very marked as she positively declined to change it with
the prevailing style but clung tenaciously to the old-fashioned modes to the
end of her life. Miss Armistead was an ideal-looking bride in her white
dress and long tulle veil and carried, according to the custom then
prevalent, a large flat bouquet of white japonicas with white lace paper
around the stems. In the dining-room, a handsome collation was served,

with a huge wedding cake at one end of the table and pomegranates,
especially sent from the bride's southern home, forming a part of the repast.
The health of the newly wedded couple was drunk in champagne and good
cheer prevailed on every side. The whole house bore a happy aspect with its
floral decorations and its bright Liverpool coal fires burning in the grates.
Furnaces, by the way, were then unknown. In New York there was at that
time a strong prejudice against anthracite coal, and Liverpool coal was
therefore generally used, the price of which was fifteen dollars a ton. I have
many close and tender associations connected with this bride of so many
years ago, especially as our friendship, formed in our early life, still extends
to her descendants. Some years after Mrs. Winthrop's marriage, and in her
earlier widowhood, four generations traveled together, and then, as at other
times, dwelt under the same roof. They were Mrs. Nathaniel Smith, Mrs.
Richard Armistead, Mrs. John S. Winthrop and her son, John S. Winthrop,
who, with his interesting family, now resides in Tallahassee.
In 1841, Lord Morpeth, the seventh Earl of Carlisle and a worthy specimen
of the English nobility, visited the United States, and while here
investigated the subject of the inheritance of slaves by English subjects. His
report seems to have been favorably received, as a law was passed
subsequent to his return declaring it illegal for Englishmen to hold slaves
through inheritance. England's sympathetic heart about this time was in a
perennial throb for "the poor Africans in chains," apparently quite oblivious
to the fact that the "chains" had been introduced and cemented by her
fostering hand.
I recall with unusual pleasure an entertainment where Lord Morpeth was
the guest of honor, at the residence of William Bard on College Place, at
that time a fashionable street in the vicinity of old Columbia College. I have
always remembered the occasion as I was then introduced to Lord Morpeth
and enjoyed a long and pleasant conversation with him. Our host was a son
of Dr. Samuel Bard, physician to General Washington during the days when
New York was the seat of government.

Mrs. John Still Winthrop, née
Armistead, by Sully

From a portrait owned by John Still
Winthrop of Tallahassee.
Mr. and Mrs. John Austin Stevens lived on Bleecker Street and had a
number of interesting daughters. They were an intellectual family and I
attended an entertainment given by them in honor of Martin Farquhar
Tupper, the author of "Proverbial Philosophy." Mr. Stevens' sister, Lucretia
Ledyard Stevens, married Mr. Richard Heckscher of Philadelphia.
Another gentlewoman of the same period was Mrs. Laura Wolcott Gibbs,
wife of Colonel George Gibbs of Newport. The first Oliver Wolcott, a
Signer, Governor of Connecticut and General in the Revolutionary War, was
her grandfather; while the second of the same name, Secretary of the
Treasury under Washington and Adams, Governor of his State and United
States Judge, was her father. I am in the fullest sympathy with the following
remarks concerning her made at her funeral by the Rev. Dr. Henry W.
Bellows: "I confess I always felt in the presence of Mrs. Gibbs as if I were

talking with Oliver Wolcott himself, and saw in her self-reliant, self-
asserting and independent manner and speech an unmistakable copy of a
strong and thoroughly individual character, forged in the hottest fires of
national struggle. The intense individuality of her nature set her apart from
others. You felt that from the womb she must have been just what she was
—a piece of the original granite on which the nation was built.... The force,
the courage, the self-poise she exhibited in the ordinary concerns of our
peaceful life would in a masculine frame have made, in times of national
peril, a patriot of the most decided and energetic character—one able and
willing to believe all things possible, and to make all the efforts and
sacrifices by which impossibilities are accomplished."
Mrs. Gibbs was literally steeped and moulded in the traditions of the past;
in fact, she was a reminder of the noble women of the Revolutionary era,
many of whom have left records behind them. She was gifted with a keen
sense of humor, and her talent in repartee was proverbial. Although many
years my senior, I found delightful companionship in her society, and her
home was always a great resource to me. Her accomplished daughter, the
wife of Captain Theophile d'Oremieulx, U.S.A., was particularly skilled in
music. Her son, Wolcott Gibbs, the distinguished Professor of Harvard
University, maintained to the last the high intellectual standard of his
ancestors. He died several years ago. I was informed by his mother that at
one period of its history Columbia College desired to secure his services as
a professor, but that the Hon. Hamilton Fish, one of its trustees and an
uncompromising Episcopalian, objected on the ground of his Unitarian faith
and was sustained by the Board of Trustees. It seemed a rather inconsistent
act, as at another period of its history a Hebrew was chosen as a member of
the same faculty.
As nearly as I can remember, it was in the summer of 1845 that I spent
several weeks as the guest of the financier and author, Alexander B.
Johnson, in Utica, New York. Mrs. Johnson's maiden name was Abigail
Louisa Smith Adams, and she was the daughter of Charles Adams, son of
President John Adams. During my sojourn there her uncle, John Quincy
Adams, came to Utica to visit his relatives, and I had the pleasure of being a
guest of the family at the same time. He was accompanied upon this trip by
his daughter-in-law, Mrs. Charles Francis Adams, a young grandson whose
name I do not recall, and the father of Mrs. Adams, Peter C. Brooks, of

Boston, another of whose daughters was the wife of Edward Everett. Upon
their arrival in Utica, the greatest enthusiasm prevailed, and the elderly ex-
President was welcomed by an old-fashioned torchlight procession. In
response to many urgent requests, Mr. Adams made an impromptu speech
from the steps of the Johnson house, and proved himself to be indeed "the
old man eloquent." Although he was not far from eighty years old, he was
by no means lacking in either mental or physical vitality. Mrs. Charles
Francis Adams impressed me as a woman of unusual culture and
intellectuality, while her father, Peter C. Brooks, was a genial old gentleman
whom everyone loved to greet. He was at that time one of Boston's
millionaires; and many years later I heard his grandson, the late Henry
Sidney Everett, of Washington, son of Edward Everett, say of him that
when he first arrived in Boston he was a youth with little or no means.
After the Adams party had rested for a few days a pleasure trip to Trenton
Falls, in Oneida County, was proposed. A few prominent citizens of Utica
were invited by the Johnsons to accompany the party, and among them
several well-known lawyers whose careers won for them a national as well
as local reputation. Among these I may especially mention the handsome
Horatio Seymour, then in his prime, whose courteous manners and manly
bearing made him exceptionally attractive. Mr. Adams bore the fatigue of
the trip remarkably well and his strength seemed undiminished as the day
waned. His devoted daughter-in-law remained constantly beside him while
at the Falls to administer to his comfort and attend to his wants; in fact, she
was so solicitous concerning him that she requested that she might, in going
and coming, occupy a carriage as near him as possible. I cannot but regard
her as a model for many of the present generation who fail to be deeply
impressed by either merit or years.
The Adamses were charming guests, and I have always felt that I was
highly privileged to visit under the same roof with them, and especially to
listen to the words of wisdom of the venerable ex-President. I have heard it
stated, by the way, that during his official life in Washington, Mr. Adams
took a daily bath in the Potomac. This luxury he must have missed in Utica,
as at this time it offered no opportunities for a plunge except in the "raging
canal." Mrs. Charles Francis Adams accompanied her husband when he
went to England, during our Civil War, to represent the United States at the
Court of St. James. The consummate manner in which he conducted our

relations with Great Britain at that critical period marked him as an
accomplished statesman and a diplomatist of the rarest skill. The nature of
his task was one of extreme delicacy, and it is highly probable that, but for
his masterly efforts, England would have recognized the independence of
the Southern Confederacy. The energy and fidelity with which he met the
requirements of his mission undermined his health and, returning to this
country, he retired to his old home in Quincy.
While in Utica I drove in the family carriage with Mrs. Johnson and her
sister, Mrs. John W. King, to Peterboro, about twenty-five miles distant, to
visit Mr. and Mrs. Gerrit Smith. Mr. Smith had already commenced his
crusade against slavery, and the family antipathy to the institution was so
strong that two of his nieces, sisters of General John Cochrane, who later
became President of the Society of the Cincinnati, refused to wear dresses
made of cotton because it was a Southern staple. As I remember this great
anti-slavery agitator, he was a remarkably handsome man with an air of
enthusiasm which seemed to pervade his whole being. From 1853 to 1855
he was in Congress, and I had the pleasure of listening to one of his
scathing speeches on the floor of the House of Representatives in
denunciation of slavery. I recall his unusual felicity in the use of Scriptural
quotations, one of which still lingers in my ears: "Where the spirit of the
Lord is there is liberty." His daughter Elizabeth married Charles Dudley
Miller, a prominent citizen of Utica. She was a woman of very pronounced
views, as may be judged, in part, by the fact that some years after my
marriage, and while living in Washington, I met her by accident one day at
the Capitol and to my surprise discovered that she was wearing bloomers!
In September, 1849, I was returning to my home in New York from another
visit to the Johnsons in Utica, when, upon the invitation of Mrs. Hamilton
Fish, whose husband was then Governor of the Empire State, I stopped in
Albany and visited them. They were of course occupying the gubernatorial
mansion, but its exact location I cannot exactly recall. Life was exceedingly
simple in the middle of the last century, even in the wealthiest families, and
through all these years I seem to remember but a single incident connected
with the family life of these early friends—the trivial fact that the breakfast
hour was seven o'clock. Mrs. Fish was a model mother and was surrounded
by a large and interesting family of children, some of whom are among the
highly prominent people of the present time.

Apropos of the Fish children, an amusing story is told of the keen sense of
humor of the late William M. Evarts, who presented in every-day life such a
stern exterior. When, on one occasion, he was a guest of the Fish family at
their summer home on the Hudson, his attention was called to a large and
beautifully executed painting of a group of children which, as was quite
apparent, was greatly treasured by the ex-Governor. Mr. Evarts gazed upon
the portrait for some minutes in silence and then exclaimed in a low tone,
"little Fishes." Mr. Fish stood near his guest but, not catching the exact drift
of his remark, replied: "Sir, I do not understand." The bright response was:
"Yes, I said little fishes, sardines,"—reminding one of Artemus Ward's
definition of sardines, "little fishes biled in ile."
Another witticism of Mr. Evarts's which seems to me deserving of
preservation is said to have been uttered during his residence in
Washington, when he was Secretary of State under President Hayes. A party
of distinguished Englishmen was visiting the National Capital and Mr.
Evarts escorted it to Mount Vernon. After inspecting the mansion and the
grave of Washington the party walked to the end of the lawn to view the
attractive scenery of the Potomac River. One of the Englishmen who
seemed decidedly more conversant with certain phases of American history
than the others asked Mr. Evarts whether it were really true that Washington
could throw a shilling across the Potomac. "Yes," said Mr. Evarts, in a
diplomatic tone, "it is quite true." The same evening at a dinner, the
Secretary of State repeated the conversation to a mutual friend and added:
"He could do even better than that; he could toss a Sovereign across the
Atlantic!"
The day after my arrival in Albany, President Zachary Taylor and his suite
were the guests of Governor and Mrs. Fish, and the same day a dinner was
given in his honor which was attended by prominent State officials.
Meanwhile, a concourse of people had surrounded the mansion, anxious to
see the President and to demand a speech. Old "Rough and Ready"
appeared at an open window and faced the multitude, but was not as
"ready" in speech as with his sword. He made a brave attempt, however, to
gratify the people, but he seemed exceedingly feeble and his voice was
decidedly weak. In the course of his remarks his aide and son-in-law,
Colonel William W. S. Bliss, came to his rescue and prompted him, as it
were, from behind the scenes; so that everything passed off, as I understood

the next day, to the satisfaction of his audience. Possibly this was one of
Taylor's last appearances in public, as he died the following summer.
Although Mrs. Fish was at this time a comparatively young woman, she
presided over the Governor's mansion with the same grace and ease so
characteristic of her career in Washington when her husband was Secretary
of State under President Grant. In my opinion, and I know but few who had
a better opportunity of judging, Mrs. Fish was in many respects a
remarkable woman. For eight years her home was a social center, and she
was regarded as the social dictator of the Grant administration. When any
perplexing questions of a social nature arose during her régime, the general
inquiry was: "What does Mrs. Fish say?" This in time became a standing
joke, but it illustrates the fact that her decisions usually were regarded as
final.
One of the social leaders in New York during my younger life was Mrs.
Isaac Jones, who, in her own set, was known as "Bloody Mary." Why this
name was applied to her I cannot say, as she was not in the least either cruel
or revengeful, as far as I knew, but on the contrary was suave and genial to
an unusual degree. She lived on Broadway, directly opposite the site where
the New York Hotel formerly stood, and her entertainments were both
numerous and elaborate. She was one of the daughters of John Mason, who
began life as a tailor but left at his death an estate valued at a million
dollars, which was a large fortune for those days. Isaac Jones was president
of the Chemical Manufacturing Company and later became prominently
connected with the Chemical Bank of New York. A brother of Mrs. Jones
married Miss Emma Wheatley, a superior young woman who, unfortunately
for her father-in-law's peace of mind, was an actress. This alliance was most
distasteful to the whole Mason connection, and when John Mason was
approaching death George W. Strong, a prominent lawyer, was hastily
summoned by his daughters to draft his will. Almost immediately following
Mr. Mason's funeral a legal battle was commenced over his estate. He left
outright to his three daughters their proportionate share of his fortune, but to
his son who had displeased him by his marriage he devised an annuity of
only fifteen hundred dollars. Charles O'Conor, the counsel for the son, in
his argument in behalf of his client, said that Mr. Mason's daughters, instead
of sending for a clergyman to console his dying moments, had demanded
the immediate presence of a respectable lawyer, "a lawyer so respectable

that throughout his entire practice he never had a poor client." Mr. O'Conor
succeeded in breaking this will, and young Mason was given his proper
share in his father's estate.
One of John Mason's daughters became the wife of Gordon Hammersley,
whose son Louis married the beautiful Miss Lilly Warren Price of Troy, the
daughter of Commodore Cicero Price of the United States Navy. She
subsequently married the Duke of Marlborough, and afterwards Lord
William Beresford. The Marlborough-Hammersley ceremony was
performed in this country by a justice of the peace, and the new Duchess of
Marlborough went to England to live upon her husband's depleted estates. It
is said that she was allowed by her late husband's family an annual income
of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and Blenheim, which had long
felt the strain of "decay's effacing fingers," began again, through the agency
of the Hammersley wealth, to resemble the structure once occupied by that
tyrant of royalty, the imperious Sarah Jennings.
Very little seemed to be known about Louis Hammersley, as he lived a
retired life, and when seen in public was almost invariably accompanied by
his father, Gordon Hammersley. When the two appeared upon the street,
they were sometimes facetiously dubbed "Dombey and Son." They were
familiar figures on Broadway, where they invariably walked arm in arm.
John Hammersley, a brother of Gordon, was the æsthetic member of this
well-known family. One of his pet diversions was the giving of unusual,
and sometimes sensational, dinners. To celebrate the completion of the
trans-continental railroad, he planned what he called a Roman dinner. His
guests were furnished with togas and partook of the meal in a reclining
position, like the Romans of old. This unique entertainment was, of course,
thoroughly enjoyed, but did not become à la mode as the flowing toga
could hardly compete with trim waistcoats and clinging trousers, even on
festive occasions.
Fifty years ago, more or less, a house was erected in New York on the
southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and Fifteenth Street by Mrs. Charles
Maverick Parker, and, to the astonishment of Gothamites, it was said to
have cost one hundred thousand dollars! Later it became the home of the
Manhattan Club. Many old residents visited it on its completion, as such a
costly structure was regarded with nothing short of amazement. I remember

it was an on dit of the town that upon one occasion, when Mrs. Parker was
personally escorting some unusually prominent person through the
mansion, she pointed to a pretty little receptacle in her bedroom and
exclaimed as she passed: "That is where I keep my old shoes. I wear old
shoes just as other people do." The cost and pretentiousness of her
establishment caused her to be nicknamed "Mrs. House Parker." Her
residence was built of brown stone, which so strongly appealed to the taste
of New Yorkers that in time the same material was largely employed in the
erection of dwellings. High ceilings were then much in vogue and were
greatly admired. In our house in Houston Street, where I passed my late
childhood and early womanhood, the ceilings were unusually high, while
all of the doors were of massive mahogany set in ornamental white frames.
In subsequent years I met so many persons who in former days had been
our neighbors in Houston Street that I was conceited enough to designate
that locality as "the cradle of the universe." Anthony Bleecker Neilson was
our next-door neighbor in this famous old street, and during my life in
China twin sons of his, William and Bleecker, were again my neighbors in
Foo Chow, where they were both employed in the Hong (firm) of Oliphant
& Company.
A rival to Mrs. Parker's fine house was not long in appearing. Directly
opposite a stately residence was built by Mrs. Richard K. Haight which
subsequently became the New York Club. A great rivalry existed between
these two matrons which even extended to hats, feathers, gowns and all the
furbelows so dear to the feminine heart. In fact, the far-famed houses of
Montague and Capulet could not have maintained more skillful tactics; and
all the while the Gothamites looked on and smiled. A few years later
Eugene Shiff, who had spent the greater portion of his life in France, built a
large house on Fifth Avenue which he surmounted with a mansard roof.
These pioneers having set the pace, imposing residences were erected in
rapid succession, and the process has been continued until the present day.
In December, 1851, New York was agog over the arrival upon the shores of
America of Louis Kossuth. As everyone knows, he was the leader of the
Hungarian revolution of 1848-9, and became the first governor of the short-
lived Hungarian Republic. When this was overthrown by Austria and other
countries, Kossuth fled to Turkey and subsequently sailed for this country
on the U.S. Frigate Mississippi. When his arrival became known, thousands

of people thronged the streets anxious to catch a first glimpse of the
distinguished foreigner. One might have fancied from the enthusiasm
displayed that he was one of our own conquering heroes returning home.
Americans were even more sympathetic then than now with all struggles for
political freedom, as the history of our own trying experiences during the
Revolution was, from a sentimental point of view, even more of a
controlling influence than it is to-day. Several months later I heard Kossuth
deliver an address at the National Hotel in Washington before a large
assembly chiefly composed of members of Congress, when his subject was
"Hungary and her woes." I vividly recall the impression produced upon his
audience when, in his deeply melodious tones, he invoked the "Throne of
Grace" and closed with the appealing words: "What is life without prayer?"
I have never before or since observed an audience so completely under the
sway of an orator, as it seemed to me that there was not a person in the
room who at the moment would not have been willing to acquiesce in
whatever demands or appeals he might present. Kossuth's countenance
suggested such profound depression that one could readily credit the
assertion he made during his remarks, "I have been trained to grief." He
wore during the delivery of his address the picturesque costume of the
Magyars of his country.
New York had an unusually large coterie of littérateurs, many of whom it
was my good fortune to know. Some of these had only recently returned
from Brook Farm "sadder but wiser" and, at all events, with more practical
views concerning "the world's broad field of battle." Brook Farm had its
origin in 1841, and completely collapsed in 1847. It was chiefly intended to
be the fulfillment of a dream of the Rev. Dr. William Henry Channing of
"an association in which the members, instead of preying upon one another
and seeking to put one another down, after the fashion of this world, should
live together as brothers, seeking one another's elevation and spiritual
growth." It was essentially socialistic in its conception and execution and,
although professedly altruistic in its nature, was in reality a visionary
scheme which reflected but little credit upon the judgment of either its
originators or its patrons. Its company was composed of "members" and
"scholars," to whom may be added a celebrated list of those who sojourned
at the Farm for brief periods and were known as "visitors." The whole
scheme was without doubt one of the most visionary expressions of New

England transcendentalism, and it failed because in the nature of things no
such ventures ever have succeeded and, until human nature is essentially
revolutionized, probably never can. Among its most distinguished members
were Nathaniel Hawthorne, Charles A. Dana, later the brilliant and
accomplished editor of The New York Sun, and George Ripley. George
William Curtis was one of its scholars, and among its visitors were the Rev.
William Henry Channing, Margaret Fuller, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Amos
Bronson Alcott, Orestes Augustus Bronson, Theodore Parker and Elizabeth
P. Peabody—forming together one of the most brilliant intellectual galaxies
that were ever associated in a single enterprise.
Of this number I especially recall George William Curtis, a genius of the
first brilliancy and remarkable withal for his versatile conversational
powers. I was talking to him on one occasion when someone inquired as to
his especial work in the co-operative fold of Brook Farm. His laughing
reply was, "Cleaning door knobs." George Ripley was a distinguished
scholar and a prominent journalist. His wife, a daughter of Francis Dana,
became a convert to Catholicism and is said to have found much to console
her in that faith until her death from cancer in 1861. Margaret Fuller, though
not possessed of much outward grace, was a prolific votary of the pen. I
occasionally met her in society before she started on an European tour
where she met her destiny in the person of the Marquis Giovanni Angelo
Ossoli, to whom she was secretly married in 1847. Some years later she
embarked with her husband and little boy upon a sailing vessel for America,
and all were lost off the coast of New York in July, 1850. Horace Sumner, a
younger brother of the distinguished Massachusetts statesman, also perished
at the same time.
About 1845 I met Anne C. Lynch of Providence, who came to New York to
promote her literary ambitions, and was a pleasing addition to this same
intellectual circle. She was the author of several prose works and also of
some poetical effusions which were published in 1848 and received high
commendation. She married Vincenzo Botta, a learned Italian who at one
time was a professor in the University of Turin. Their tastes were similar
and the marriage was a very happy one. They lived for many years on
Thirty-seventh Street in New York, where they maintained a charming
salon. On Sunday evenings their home was the rendezvous of many of the
literary lights of the metropolis as well as of distinguished strangers. Some

years before her marriage, Mrs. Botta was visiting in Washington, where
she formed a friendship with Henry Clay. Upon her return to New York he
committed to her care a valuable gold medal, but upon arriving at her home
she discovered to her dismay that it was missing from her trunk. It was the
general impression that it had been stolen from her on her way to New
York. About the same time I also knew Donald G. Mitchell ("Ik Marvel"),
but this was before he had entered upon his active and distinguished literary
career, and when he was a temporary sojourner in New York. He was
contributing at that time some much appreciated letters to various
magazines under the signature of "The Lorgnette," which were
subsequently republished as a volume bearing the same title.
N. P. Willis was another literary genius of the same period whom I had the
pleasure of knowing. He was cordially welcomed into the social world of
New York; but, unfortunately for his popularity, he wrote a prose effusion
entitled, "Those Ungrateful Blidgimses," which was generally recognized as
a direct attack upon two old ladies who were held in high esteem in New
York. It was known to many persons that he had had a misunderstanding
with them and that he had employed this manner of taking his revenge.
New York society frowned upon what was generally considered his
ungallant conduct, and for many years the doors of some of the most
prominent houses in the city were closed against him. As I remember
reading his story at the time, I thought its title was but a poor disguise, as
the sisters were named Bridgens, the christian name of one of them being
Cornelia. This name was distorted into "Crinny," who, by the way, was a
woman of decided ability. It was against her that the author's animosity was
chiefly directed. It seems that the Misses Bridgens and Mr. Willis chanced
to be sojourning at the same time in Rome, where the scene of his narrative
is laid. Miss Crinny was a sufferer from an attack of Roman fever and,
under these dire circumstances, Mr. Willis represents himself as her
attendant, and in this capacity refuses to condone the peculiarities of the
poor old lady's sick-room. His patience in gratifying her morbid fancies is
graphically described in a vein of ridicule and he tells how by the hour he
threaded what he terms her "imaginary locks." He also dwells at length
upon her conversational powers and likens her tongue to the elasticity of an
eel's tail, which would wag if it were skinned and fried. Charles Dudley
Warner has described this writing of Mr. Willis as "funny but wicked"; it

was more than that—it was cruel! Willis made another reference to the two
sisters in his "Earnest Clay" where he speaks of "two abominable old maids
by the names of Buggins and Blidgins, representing the scan. mag. of
Florence."
The New York public was in no hurry to reopen its doors to Mr. Willis;
indeed, it was not until after his marriage to Miss Cornelia Grinnell, his
second wife, that he was again kindly received. I recall with much pleasure
a visit I made at Mrs. Winfield Scott's in New York, after that city had
ceased to be my home, when we went together to dine with Mr. and Mrs. N.
P. Willis at Idlewild, their country home on the Hudson. These were the
days when Mrs. Scott was sometimes facetiously called Madame la
Général. This charming residence of Mr. Willis was several miles south of
Newburgh, on high ground overlooking the river, and from its porches there
was an enchanting view of West Point. Mr. Willis told us that when he first
came to that vicinity he called the attention of a countryman from whom he
had purchased the land to some uncultivated acres and asked a suggestion
regarding them. "That," said the man, waving his hand in the direction of
the trees, "is nothing but an Idlewild." The word lingered in Mr. Willis's
mind, and he subsequently adopted it as the name of his new home.
While living in New York we frequently attended parties at the hospitable
home of Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin F. Butler in Washington Place. He was an
elegant gentleman of the old school and had served as Attorney General in
the cabinets of Presidents Jackson and Van Buren. They were people of
deep religious convictions, and consequently all their entertainments were
conducted upon the strictest code of the day. For example, dancing was
never permitted and wine was never served. In place of dancing there was a
continuous promenade. I generally attended these parties accompanied by
my father, who enjoyed meeting the legal lights of the country, some of
whom were always there. Exceptionally handsome suppers were served at
these entertainments, and every effort was made by Mr. and Mrs. Butler to
make up, as it were, for the lack of dancing which was sorely missed by
those more gayly inclined.
A hundred thousand dollars was considered a highly respectable fortune in
New York between sixty and seventy years ago. Seven per cent, was the
usual rate of interest, the cost of living was low, and life was, of course,

much simpler in every way. I recall a prominent young man about this
period, Henry Carroll Marx, commonly called "Dandy Marx," who was said
to be the happy possessor of the amount I have named. He was devoted to
horses and from his home on Broadway he could frequently be seen driving
tandem on the cobblestone streets. I do not remember his entering the social
arena; possibly he avoided it in order to escape the wiles of designing
mothers, whom one occasionally encountered even in those ancient days.
His faultless attire, which in elegance surpassed all his rivals, won for him
the nickname of "Dandy." He also rendered himself conspicuous as the first
gentleman in New York to wear the long, straight, and pointed waxed
mustache. His two maiden sisters were inseparable companions and nearly
every day could be seen walking on Broadway. Miss Lydia Kane, one of the
wits of my day and of whom I have already spoken, facetiously called them
"number 11"—two straight marks!
In 1845 Burton's Theater was an unfailing source of delight to the pleasure-
loving public. William E. Burton was an Englishman of rare cultivation,
and was the greatest comedian New York had ever known. Although so
gifted, his expression of countenance was one of extreme gravity. His
presentation of Aminadab Sleek in the "Serious Family" has, in my opinion,
never been surpassed. He frequently acted in minor comedies, but the
"Serious Family" was his greatest rôle. Niblo's Garden on Broadway, near
Houston Street, was a source of great delight in those days to all
Gothamites. It was in this theater that the Ravel family had its remarkable
athletic performances. When I recall their graceful, youthful physiques, I
am reminded of Hamlet's philosophical musings in the graveyard: "Where
be your gibes now, your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment
that were wont to set the table on a roar?" P. T. Barnum was a conspicuous
figure about this time. His museum was on Broadway, at the corner of Ann
Street, and not far from the City Hall. He was considered a prince of
humbugs and perhaps gloried in his reputation as such. I distinctly
remember the excitement which he created over a mummified old colored
woman who, he asserted, had been a nurse of Washington, and to whom he
gave the name of Joice Heth. She was undoubtedly a very aged negress, but
she still retained full powers of articulation and was well coached to reply
in an intelligent manner to the numerous inquiries respecting her pretended

charge. It is needless to add that she was only one of Barnum's numerous
fakes.
Philip Kearny, a handsome gentleman of a former school, who lived at the
corner of Broadway and Leonard Street, was a lavish entertainer. He was a
widower when I knew him, but his daughter, the wife of Major Alexander
S. Macomb, U.S.A., the son and aide of Major General Alexander Macomb,
Commander-in-Chief of the Army, lived with him. Major Macomb was
conspicuous for his attractive personality and imposing presence and was
said to bear a striking resemblance to Prince Albert, the father of Edward
VII. His wife was one of the three heirs of John Watts, who owned a
princely estate. The other two were her brother, the gallant General Philip
Kearny, and her cousin, General John Watts de Peyster, a son of that most
accomplished gentleman, Frederick de Peyster, of whom I have already
spoken. Mrs. Macomb was a generous and attractive woman who dispensed
with a liberal hand the wealth she had inherited. Her pretty cousins, Mary
and Nancy Kearny, whom I knew quite well, daughters of her father's
brothers, were her constant guests. Another frequent visitor of this
household was Mrs. "Phil" Kearny, as she was invariably called, whose
maiden name was Diana Moore Bullitt, a famous Kentucky belle, well-
known for her grace and intellectual attractions. Her sister Eloise, usually
called "Lou" Bullitt by her intimate friends, married Baron Frederick de
Kantzow of Sweden, a courtly foreigner who had commercial relations with
the merchant princes of New York. Tradition states that the Baroness de
Kantzow, though not possessed of Mrs. Kearny's beauty, was a more
successful slayer of hearts than her sister, and it is said that she had adorers
by the score. A third Bullitt sister, Mary, married General Henry Atkinson
and after his death Major Adam Duncan Steuart, both of the United States
Army, the latter of whom was stationed for many years at Fort
Leavenworth.
Mrs. Macomb's health failed at an early period of life and to restore it she
sought a foreign clime; but, alas, her many friends were never gladdened
again by her kindly welcome, as she died abroad. In my young womanhood
I frequently attended parties at the Kearny house where dancing and other
social pleasures enlivened the scene. In this connection it seems proper to
refer at greater length to John Watts and his interesting trio of daughters. I
have already spoken of his son Robert, who died unmarried at an early age.

His two older daughters, Susanna, wife of Philip Kearny, and Mary Justina,
wife of Frederick de Peyster, did not long survive their marriages; but a
third daughter, Elizabeth, the wife of Henry Laight, who never had children,
lived many years with her father and managed the affairs of his household.
An amusing story was told me many years ago regarding Mrs. Laight which
is well worthy of mention. As a young girl she was deeply in love with the
young man who eventually became her husband, but her father was so
devoted to her and so very dependent upon her that he violently opposed
her marrying anyone. Accordingly, a secret marriage was planned by the
young people to take place in Trinity Church. As the youthful pair was
standing in front of the altar, surrounded by a few sympathetic friends, the
rector reached the words, "Who giveth this woman to be married to this
man?" when, to the astonishment of the assembled group, a gruff, loud
voice in the rear of the church shouted "I do." Old John Watts had opposed
his daughter's marriage with all his might, but when he learned by chance
that she was to be married clandestinely, he graciously accepted the
inevitable and without the knowledge of anyone hurried to the church and,
entering it by a side door, duly performed his part as just related. This
anecdote was told me by Arent Schuyler de Peyster, a distant cousin of
General John Watts de Peyster. Many years later, when I repeated it to Mrs.
Diana Bullitt Kearny, she remarked in her characteristic manner: "He was
mean enough not to even allow her the satisfaction of a runaway marriage."
This estimate of his character, however, does not seem to agree with that
given by others. The Laights were prominent in New York society. One of
them, Edward Laight, whom I knew as a society beau, was remarkably
handsome. He was a good deal of a flirt and transferred his affections with
remarkable facility from one young woman to another. His sister married a
Greek, Mr. Eugene Dutilh, a gentleman of culture and refinement, who
owned a beautiful place at Garrison's-on-the-Hudson which he sold about
1861 to Hamilton Fish.
Philip Kearny and his family lived next door to Peter A. Jay, and I
frequently met the young people of his household at Mrs. Macomb's parties.
Gouverneur Morris, a son of the distinguished statesman, and Edward
Kearny were habitués of this establishment, as were also Ridley and Essex
Watts, both of whom I knew well. General "Phil" Kearny from his youthful
days was an enthusiastic soldier, but he was not a graduate of West Point,

having been appointed to the regular army from civil life by President Van
Buren in 1837. He served throughout the Mexican War, where he had the
misfortune to lose an arm at the battle of Churubusco, and was killed during
the Civil War in 1862 at the battle of Chantilly.
Speaking of General Macomb, I am reminded of a social on dit of many
years ago. Mrs. August Belmont (Caroline Slidell Perry) lived in a fine
house on Fifth Avenue and frequently gave large receptions. His sister,
Sarah Perry, subsequently Mrs. R. S. Rodgers, was an early friend of mine.
The elegant Major Alexander S. Macomb, who was his father's namesake
and aide, on entering Mrs. Belmont's drawing-room was unfortunate
enough to brush against a handsome vase and completely shatter it. It was
generally conceded that his hostess was conscious of the disaster, but "was
mistress of herself though China fall" and appeared entirely unconscious of
the mishap. Some months later at the house of Lady Cunard (Mary
McEvers), a similar accident happened. The unfortunate guest, however, in
this case was immediately approached by his hostess, who with much
elegant grace begged him not to be disturbed as the damage was trifling.
Immediately society began an animated discussion, when even the judicial
powers of Solomon might have found it embarrassing to decide which of
the two women should be accorded the greater degree of savoir faire.
In 1844, accompanied by my father, I attended the wedding of Estelle
Livingston, daughter of John Swift Livingston, to John Watts de Peyster. At
the time of this marriage, Mr. de Peyster was considered the finest parti in
the city; while, apart from his great wealth, he was so unusually talented
that it was generally believed a brilliant future awaited him. It was a home
wedding, and the drawing-room was well filled with the large family
connection and other invited guests. At this time Mr. Livingston was a
widower, but his sister Maria, Mrs. John C. Stevens of Hoboken, did the
honors of the occasion for her brother. The young bride presented a
charming appearance in all her finery, and at the bountiful collation
following the ceremony champagne flowed freely. This, however, was no
unusual thing, as that beverage was generally seen at every entertainment in
those good old days. Mrs. John C. Stevens lived at one time in Barclay
Street, and I have heard numerous stories concerning her eccentricities. In
1849 she gave a fancy-dress ball but, as she had failed to revise her visiting
list in many years, persons who had long been dead were among her invited

guests. She was especially peculiar in her mode of dress, which was not
always adapted to her social position. It is therefore not at all surprising that
unfortunate mistakes were occasionally made in regard to her identity.
Another of her eccentricities consisted in the fact that she positively
refused, when shopping, to recognize even her most intimate friends, as she
said it was simply impossible for her to combine business with pleasure. In
spite of her peculiarities, however, she possessed unusual social charm. Her
husband was prominent in society and business circles. He was founder of
the New York Yacht Club as well as its first president, and commanded the
America in the memorable race in England in 1851, which won the
celebrated cup that Sir Thomas Lipton and other English yachtsmen have
failed to restore to their native land. Mary Livingston, the younger daughter
of John Swift Livingston, was a petite beauty. She married a distant relative,
a son of Maturin Livingston. I am told that her brother, Johnston
Livingston, is still living in New York at a very advanced age.
Joseph Kemmerer's band was an indispensable adjunct to all social
gatherings in the days of which I am speaking. The number of instruments
used was always in proportion to the size of the entertainment. The
inspiring airs of Strauss and Labitzky, then in vogue, were popular with the
younger set. These airs bring back pleasant memories, as I have frequently
danced to them. The waltz in my day was a fine art and its votaries were
numerous. I recall the fact that Edward James of Albany, a witty young
gentleman with whom I occasionally danced, was such a devotee to the
waltz that, not possessing sufficient will power to resist its charms and
having a delicate constitution, he nearly danced himself into another world.
Two attractive young brothers, Thomas H. and Daniel Messinger, who were
general beaux in society, played their parts most successfully in the social
world by their graceful dancing, and no ball was considered complete
without their presence. These brothers were associated in the umbrella
industry, and Miss Lydia Kane, some of whose witty remarks I have already
quoted, dubbed them the "reigning beaux!" Daniel Messinger eventually
married Miss Elizabeth Coles Neilson, a daughter of Anthony Bleecker
Neilson, and became a Lieutenant Colonel in the Union Army during the
Civil War.
The British Consul General in New York from 1817 to 1843 was James
Buchanan. He was Irish by birth, and many young British subjects visiting

the United States made his home their headquarters. He had several
daughters and, as the whole family was social in its tastes, I often enjoyed
meeting these sturdy representatives of John Bull at his house. Those I
knew best came from "the land of brown heath and shaggy wood," as in our
family we were naturally partial to Scotchmen and, as a rule, regarded them
as desirable acquaintances. Many of these were graduates of Glasgow
University and young men of unusual culture and refinement. I especially
remember Mr. McCorquodale, a nephew of Dr. Thomas Chalmers, the
distinguished Presbyterian Divine of Scotland. He met his future wife in
New York in the person of a wealthy and attractive widow. Her maiden
name I do not recall, although I am acquainted with certain facts concerning
her lineage. She was the granddaughter of Madame de Genlis.
I doubt whether any of these young Scotchmen whom I met remained
permanently in this country, as they always seemed too loyal to the "Land o'
Cakes" to entirely expatriate themselves. Another young Scotchman, Mr.
Dundas, whom I knew quite well through the Buchanans, embarked for his
native land on board the steamer President. This ship sailed in the spring of
1841 and never reached her destination. What became of her was never
known and her fate remains to this day one of the mysteries of the sea. In
the fall of 1860 the U.S. man-of-war Levant, on her voyage from the
Hawaiian Islands to Panama, disappeared in the same mysterious manner in
the Pacific Ocean; and, as was the case with the President, no human being
aboard of her was ever heard of again. There were many conjectures in
regard to the fate of this ship, but the true story of her doom has never been
revealed. I remember two of the officers who perished with her. One of
them was Lieutenant Edward C. Stout, who had married a daughter of
Commodore John H. Aulick, U.S.N., and whose daughters, the Misses Julia
and Minnie Stout, are well remembered in Washington social circles; and
the other was Purser Andrew J. Watson, who was a member of one of the
old residential families of the District of Columbia.

CHAPTER VIII
WASHINGTON IN THE FORTIES

My first visit to Washington was in 1845. I started from New York at eight
o'clock in the morning and reached Philadelphia late the same afternoon. I
broke the journey by spending the night at Jones's Hotel in the lower part of
the city, which was the usual stopping place of travelers who made this trip.
A few years later when the journey from New York to Washington was
made in twelve hours, it was thought that almost a miracle had been
performed.
Mrs. Winfield Scott in 1855 characterized the National Capital as "an ill-
contrived, ill-arranged, rambling, scrambling village"; and it was certainly
all of that when I first saw it. It is not improbable that the cause of this
condition of affairs was a general feeling of uncertainty as to whether
Washington would remain the permanent seat of government, especially as
the West was naturally clamoring for a more centrally located capital. When
I first visited the city the ubiquitous real-estate agent had not yet
materialized, and corner lots, now so much in demand, could be purchased
at a small price. Taxation was moderate and Congress, then as now, held
itself responsible for one-half of the taxes. As land was cheap there was no
necessity for economy in its use, and spacious fronts were built regardless
of back-buildings. In other cases, when one's funds were limited, the rear of
the house was first built and later a more imposing front was added. The
contrast between the houses of New York, built closely together in blocks,
and those in Washington, with the abundant space around them, was a great
surprise to me. Unlike many other cities, land in Washington, then, as now,
was sold and taxed by the square foot.
My elder sister Fanny had married Charles Eames, Esq., of the Washington
Bar, and my visit was to her. Mr. Eames entered Harvard in 1827 when less
than sixteen years of age, and was a classmate of Wendell Phillips and of
John Lothrop Motley, the historian. The distinguished Professor of Harvard
University, Andrew P. Peabody, LL.D., in referring to him many years after

his death said that he was "the first scholar of his class, and was regarded as
a man of unlimited power of acquisition, and of marked ability as a public
speaker." After leaving Harvard he studied law, but ill health prevented him
from practicing his profession. He accompanied to Washington George
Bancroft, President Polk's Secretary of the Navy, by whom he was made
principal correspondence clerk of the Navy Department. He remained there
but a few months when he became associate editor of The Washington
Union under the well-known Thomas Ritchie, usually known as "Father
Ritchie." He was subsequently appointed by Polk a commissioner to
negotiate a treaty with the Hawaiian Islands, and took passage upon the
U.S. Frigate Savannah and sailed, by way of Cape Horn, for San Francisco.
He unexpectedly found awaiting his arrival in that city Dr. Gerrit P. Judd,
Prime Minister of the King, with two young Hawaiian princes. After the
treaty was made, he returned east and for six months edited The Nashville
Union, when he again assumed charge of The Washington Union. President
Pierce subsequently appointed him Minister to Venezuela, where he
remained until 1859, and then returned to Washington, where he practiced
his profession for the remainder of his life. It was while arguing an
important case before the Supreme Court that he was stricken, and he died
on the 16th of March, 1867. He sustained a high reputation as an admiralty
lawyer as well as for his knowledge of international jurisprudence. I have
now before me a letter addressed to his widow by Wendell Phillips only
three days after his death. It is one of the valued possessions of Mr. Eames's
daughter, who is my niece and the wife of that genial Scotchman, Alexander
Penrose Gordon-Cumming. It reads:
Quincy, Illinois, March 19, 1867.
My dear friend,
I have just crossed from the other side of the Mississippi, and
am saddened by learning from the papers my old and dear
friend's death.
The associations that bind us together go back many, many
years. We were boys together in sunny months full of frolic,
plans and hopes. The merriment and the seriousness, the toil and
the ambition of those days all cluster round him as memory

brings him to me in the flush of his youth. I have seen little of
him of late years, as you know, but the roots of our friendship
needed no constant care; they were too strong to die or wilt, and
when we did meet it was always with the old warmth and
intimacy. I feel more alone in the world now he has gone. One
by one the boy's comrades pass over the river and life loses with
each some of its interest.
I was hoping in coming years, as life grew less busy, to see more
of my old playmate, and this is a very unexpected blow. Be sure
I sympathize with you most tenderly, and could not resist the
impulse to tell you so. Little as we have met, I owe to your kind
and frank interest in me a sense of very warm and close relation
to you—feel as if I had known you ever so many years. I hope
our paths may lead us more together so that I may learn to know
you better and gather some more distinct ideas of Eames' later
years. All his youth I have by heart.
With most affectionate regards believe me
Very faithfully yours,
Wendell Phillips.
Mrs. Eames.
I think women never fully realize the strange tenderness with
which men cling to college mates. No matter how much
opinions or residence separate grown-up men, to have been
classmates is a tie that like blood never loosens. Any man that
has a heart feels it thrill at the sight of one of those comrades.
Later friendships may be close, never so tender—this makes
boys of us again at any moment. Unfamiliar tears obey its touch,
and a singular sense of loneliness settles down on survivors—
Good-bye.
The young Hawaiian princes to whom I have just referred and who, by the
way, were mere boys, accompanied Dr. Judd to New York where my
younger brother, Malcolm, thinking he might make the acquaintance of

some genial playmates, called to see them. Upon his return from his visit
his only criticism was, "those dusky princes certainly give themselves airs."
My sister, Mrs. Eames, lived in a house on G Street near Twenty-first Street
in what was then known as the First Ward. This general section, together
with a part of Indiana Avenue, some portions of Capitol Hill, Sixth and
Seventh Streets, and all of that part of the city bounded on the north by K
Street, on the south by Pennsylvania Avenue, and westward of Fourteenth
Street to Georgetown, was at this time the fashionable section of the city.
Like many other places in its formative period, Washington then presented
the picture of fine dwelling houses and shanties standing side by side. I
remember, for example, that as late as 1870 a fine residence on the corner
of I and Fifteenth Streets was located next to a small frame house occupied
by a colored undertaker. The latter's business was prosperous, but his
wealthy neighbor objected to the constant reminder of death caused by
seeing from his fine bay window the numerous coffins carried in and out.
He asked the undertaker to name his price for his property, but he declined,
and all of his subsequent offers were ignored. Finally, after several years'
patient waiting, during which offer after offer had been politely but
positively rejected, the last one being an almost princely sum, the owner
sold his home and moved away, leaving his humble neighbor in triumphant
possession. This is simply a fair example of the conditions existing in
Washington when I first knew it.
Two rows of houses on Pennsylvania Avenue, known as the "Six and Seven
Buildings," were fashionable dwellings. Admiral David D. Porter, then a
Lieutenant in the Navy, occupied one of them. Miss Catharine L. Brooke
kept a girls' school in another, while still another was the residence of
William Lee of Massachusetts. I have been informed that while serving in a
consular office abroad, under the appointment of President Monroe, Mr.
Lee was commissioned by him to select a dinner set for the White House.
Architects, if I remember correctly, were almost unknown in Washington at
this time. When a person was sufficiently venturesome to build a house for
himself, he selected a residence suited to his tastes and directed a builder to
erect one like it. Speculative building was entirely unknown, and if any
resident of the District had embarked upon such a venture he would have
been regarded as the victim of a vivid but disordered fancy.

Mrs. C. R. Latimer kept a fashionable boarding house in a large brick
dwelling facing Lafayette Square where the Belasco Theater now stands.
Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton Fish boarded with her while the former was a
Representative in Congress, and Mr. and Mrs. Sanders Irving, so well and
favorably known to all old Washingtonians, also made this house their
home. Many years later it was the residence of William H. Seward, and he
was living there when the memorable attempt was made in 1865 to
assassinate him. As is well known, it subsequently became the home of
James G. Blaine. When Hamilton Fish was elected to the Senate, he
purchased a house on H Street, between Seventeenth and Eighteenth
Streets, which was afterwards known as the "Porter house." Previously it
had been owned and occupied by General "Phil" Kearny.
The shops of Washington in 1845 were not numerous, and were located
chiefly upon Pennsylvania Avenue, Seventh Street then being a residential
section. The most prominent dry-goods store was kept by Darius Clagett at
the corner of Ninth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue. Mr. Clagett, invariably
cordial and courteous, always stood behind his counter, and I have had
many pleasant chats with him while making my purchases. Although he
kept an excellent selection of goods, it was usually the custom for
prominent Washington folk to make their larger purchases in Baltimore. A
little later Walter Harper kept a dry-goods store on Pennsylvania Avenue,
near Eighth Street, and some years later two others appeared, one kept by
William M. Shuster on Pennsylvania Avenue, first between Seventh and
Eighth Streets, and later between Ninth and Tenth; and the other by
Augustus and Thomas Perry on the corner of Ninth Street and Pennsylvania
Avenue. Charles Demonet, the confectioner, made his appearance a little
later on Pennsylvania Avenue, between Seventeenth and Eighteenth Streets;
but Charles Gautier, on Pennsylvania Avenue, between Twelfth and
Thirteenth Streets, was his successful rival and was regarded more
favorably in aristocratic circles. Madame Marguerite M. Delarue kept a
shop on the north side of the same avenue, also between Twelfth and
Thirteenth Streets, where small articles of dress dear to the feminine heart
could be bought. There were several large grocery stores on the south side
of Pennsylvania Avenue, between Sixth and Seventh Streets. Benjamin L.
Jackson and Brother were the proprietors of one and James L. Barbour and
John A. Hamilton of another, although the two latter had their business

house at an earlier day on Louisiana Avenue. Louis Vavans was the
accomplished cook and caterer, and sent to their rooms the meals of many
persons temporarily residing in Washington. Joseph Redfern, his son-in-law,
kept a grocery store in the First Ward. Franck Taylor, the father of the late
Rear Admiral Henry C. Taylor, U.S.N., was the proprietor of a book store
on Pennsylvania Avenue, near Four-and-a-Half Street, where many of the
scholarly men of the day congregated to discuss literary and current topics.
His store had a bust of Sir Walter Scott over its door, and he usually kept his
front show-windows closed to prevent the light from fading the bindings of
his books. The Center Market was located upon the same site as at present,
but of course it has since been greatly enlarged and improved. All the stores
on Louisiana Avenue sold at retail. I remember the grocery store of J.
Harrison Semmes on Ninth Street and Louisiana Avenue, opposite the
Center Market; and the hardware store kept by Joseph Savage on
Pennsylvania Avenue, between Sixth and Seventh Streets, and at another
time between Third and Fourth Streets.
On Fifteenth Street opposite the Treasury was another well-known boarding
house, conducted by Mrs. Ulrich and much patronized by members of the
Diplomatic Corps. Willard's Hotel was just around the corner on the site of
the New Willard, and its proprietor was Caleb Willard. Brown's Hotel,
farther down town, on Pennsylvania Avenue and Sixth Street, was a popular
rendezvous for Congressional people. It was first called the Indian Queen,
and was kept by that prince of hosts, Jesse Brown. After his death the name
was changed to the Metropolitan.
The National Hotel on the opposite corner was the largest hostelry in
Washington. It boasted of a large Southern cliéntèle, and until President
Buchanan's administration enjoyed a very prosperous career. Subsequent to
Buchanan's inauguration, however, a mysterious epidemic appeared among
the guests of the house which the physicians of the District failed to
satisfactorily diagnose. It became commonly known as the "National Hotel
disease," and resulted in numerous deaths. A notice occasionally appeared
in the current newspapers stating that the deceased had died from this
malady. Mrs. Robert Greenhow, in her book published in London during the
Civil War, entitled "My Imprisonment and the First Years of Abolition Rule
at Washington," attributes the epidemic to the machinations of the
Republicans, who were desirous of disposing of President Buchanan. John

Gadsby was its proprietor at one time, from whom it usually went by the
name of "Gadsby's." President Buchanan was one of its guests on the eve of
his inauguration.
When I first knew Washington, slavery was in full sway and, with but few
exceptions, all servants were colored. The wages of a good cook were only
six or seven dollars a month, but their proficiency in the culinary art was
remarkable. I remember once hearing Count Adam Gurowski, who had
traversed the European continent, remark that he had never anywhere tasted
such cooking as in the South. The grace of manner of many of the elderly
male slaves of that day would, indeed, have adorned a court. When William
L. Marcy, who, although a master in statesmanship and diplomacy, was not
especially gifted in external graces, was taking final leave of the clerks in
the War Department, where as Secretary he had rendered such distinguished
services under President Polk, he shook hands with an elderly colored
employee named Datcher, who had formerly been a body servant to
President Monroe, and said: "Good-bye, Datcher; if I had had your manners
I should have left more friends behind me." Some years later, and after my
marriage into the Gouverneur family, I had the good fortune to have passed
down to me a venerable colored man who had served my husband's family
for many years and whose name was "Uncle James." His manner at times
was quite overpowering. On entering my drawing-room on one occasion to
greet George Newell, brother-in-law and guest of ex-Governor Marcy, I
found him seated upon a sofa and apparently engaged in a "brown study."
Referring at once to "Uncle James," he inquired: "Who is that man?" Upon
my replying, "An old family servant," he remarked: "Well, he is the most
polite man I have ever met."
Some years later my sister, Mrs. Eames, moved into a house on the corner
of H and Fourteenth Streets, which she and her husband had built and
which she occupied until her death in 1890. I naturally shrink from dwelling
in detail upon her charm of manner and social career, and prefer rather to
quote an extract from a sketch which appeared in one of the newspapers just
after her death:
... During the twenty-eight years of her married life in
Washington Mrs. Eames's house was one of the favorite resorts
of the most conspicuous and interesting men of the nation; it

was a species of neutral ground where men of all parties and
shades of political opinion found it agreeable to foregather.
Though at first in moderate circumstances and living in a house
which rented for less than $300 a year, there was no house in
Washington except, perhaps, the President's, where one was sure
of meeting any evening throughout the year so many people of
distinction.

Mrs. Charles Eames, neé Campbell, by
Gambadella.
Owned by Mrs. Gordon-Cumming.
Mr. and Mrs. Marcy were devoted to Mrs. Eames; her salon was
almost the daily resort of Edward Everett, Rufus Choate,
Charles Sumner, Secretary [James] Guthrie, Governor [John A.]
Andrews of Massachusetts, Winter Davis, Caleb Cushing,
Senator Preston King, N.P. Banks, and representative men of
that ilk. Mr. [Samuel J.] Tilden when in Washington was often
their guest. The gentlemen, who were all on the most familiar
terms with the family, were in the habit of bringing their less

conspicuous friends from time to time, thus making it quite the
most attractive salon that has been seen in Washington since the
death of Mrs. Madison, and made such without any of the
attractions of wealth or luxury.
The relations thus established with the public men of the country
at her fireside were strengthened and enriched by a voluminous
correspondence. Her father, who was a very accomplished man,
had one of the largest and choicest private libraries in New York,
of which, from the time she could read, Mrs. Eames had the
freedom; in this library she spent more time than anyone else,
and more than anywhere else, until her marriage. As a
consequence, it is no disparagement to any one else to say that
during her residence there she was intellectually quite the most
accomplished woman in Washington. Her epistolary talent was
famous in her generation.
Her correspondence if collected and published would prove to
have been not less voluminous than Mme. de Sevigné's and, in
point of literary art, in no particular inferior to that of the
famous French woman.
After three or four months spent in Washington, I returned to my home in
New York; and several years later, in the spring of 1848, suffered one of the
severest ordeals of my life. I refer to my father's death. No human being
ever entered eternity more beloved or esteemed than he, and as I look back
to my life with him I realize that I was possibly more blessed than I
deserved to be permitted to live with such a well-nigh perfect character and
to know him familiarly. From my earliest childhood I was accustomed to
see the sorrowing and oppressed come to him for advice. He was especially
qualified to perform such a function owing to his long tenure of the office
of Surrogate. Widows and orphans who could not afford litigation always
found in him a faithful friend. With a capacity of feeling for the wrongs of
others as keenly as though inflicted upon himself, his sympathy invariably
assumed a practical form and he accordingly left behind him hosts of
sorrowing and grateful hearts. A short time before his death I visited a dying
widow, a devoted Roman Catholic, whom from time to time my father had
assisted. When I was about to leave, she said: "Say to your father I hope to

meet him among the just made perfect." This remark of a poor woman has
been to me through all these years a greater consolation than any public
tribute or imposing eulogy. Finely chiseled monuments and fulsome
epitaphs are not to be compared with the benediction of grateful hearts.
The funeral services were conducted, according to the custom of sixty years
ago, by the Rev. Dr. William Adams and the Rev. Dr. Philip Milledoler.
Members of the bar and many prominent residents of New York, including
his two physicians, Doctors John W. Francis and Campbell F. Stewart,
walked behind the coffin, which, by the way, was not placed in a hearse but
was carried to the Second Street Cemetery, where his remains were
temporarily placed. There were six clergymen present at his funeral—the
Rev. Doctors Thomas De Witt, Thomas E. Vermilye, Philip Milledoler,
William Adams, John Knox and George H. Fisher, all ministers of the
Reformed Dutch Church except the Rev. Dr. Adams, the distinguished
Presbyterian divine.
I find myself almost instinctively returning to the Scott family as associated
with the most cherished memories of some of the happiest days of my life.
During my childhood I formed a close intimacy with Cornelia Scott, the
second daughter of the distinguished General, which continued until the
close of her life. When I first knew the family it made its winter home in
New York at the American Hotel, then a fashionable hostelry kept by
William B. Cozzens, on the corner of Barclay Street and Broadway. In the
summer the family resided at Hampton, the old Mayo place near Elizabeth
in New Jersey, where they kept open house. Colonel John Mayo of
Richmond, whose daughter Maria was the wife of General Scott, had
purchased this country seat many years before as a favor to his wife, Miss
Abigail De Hart of New Jersey, and Mrs. Scott subsequently inherited it.
Colonel John Mayo, who was a citizen of large wealth and great
prominence, was so public-spirited that not long subsequent to the
Revolutionary War, and entirely at his own expense, he built from his own
plans a bridge across the James River at Richmond. I have heard Mrs. Scott
graphically describe her father's trips from Richmond to Elizabeth in his
coach-of-four with outriders and grooms, and his enthusiastic reception
when he reached his destination.

I have frequently heard it said that Mrs. Scott as a young woman refused the
early offers of marriage from the man who eventually became her husband
because his rank in the army was too low to suit her taste, but that she
finally relented when he became a General. I am able to contradict this
statement as Mrs. Scott told me with her own lips that she never made his
acquaintance until he was a General, in spite of the fact that they were both
natives of the same State. This did not by any means, however, indicate a
marriage late in life, as General Scott became a Brigadier General on the
9th of March, 1814, when he was between twenty-seven and twenty-eight
years of age. In the Sentinel, published in Newark, New Jersey, on the 25th
of March, 1817, the following marriage notice appears:
Married—at Belleville, Virginia, at the seat of Col. Mayo,
General Winfield Scott of the U.S. Army to Miss Maria D.
Mayo.
Mrs. Scott's record as a belle was truly remarkable, and in the latter years of
her life when I knew her very intimately she still retained traces of great
beauty. Her accomplishments, too, were extraordinary for that period. She
was not only a skilled performer upon the piano and harp, but also a linguist
of considerable proficiency, while her grace of manner and brilliant powers
of repartee added greatly to her social charms. On one occasion during
Polk's administration she attended a levee at the White House, and as she
passed down the line with the other guests she received an enthusiastic
welcome and was soon so completely surrounded by an admiring throng
that for a while Mrs. Polk was left very much to herself. It was Mrs. Scott
who wrote in the album of a friend the verse entitled, "The Two Faults of
Men." Two other verses were written under it several years later by the
Hon. William C. Somerville of Maryland, at one time our Minister to
Sweden, and the author of "Letters from Paris on the Causes and
Consequences of the French Revolution."

Women have many faults,
The men have only two;
There's nothing right they say,
And nothing right they do.

Reply

That men are naughty rogues we know,
The girls are roguish, too.
They watch each other wondrous well
In everything they do.

But if we men do nothing right,
And never say what's true,
What precious fools you women are
To love us as you do.
Many years ago General and Mrs. Scott traveled with their youthful family
through Europe, and while at the French Capital Mrs. Scott attended a
fancy-dress ball where she represented Pocahontas and was called La belle
sauvage. I have talked to two elderly officers of our Army, Colonel John M.
Fessenden and General John B. Magruder, the latter subsequently of
Confederate fame, and both of them told me that at this entertainment she
was an object of general admiration. Many years later, long after Mrs.
Scott's death, I was visiting her daughter, Mrs. Henry L. Scott, for the last
time at the old Elizabeth home, accompanied by my young daughter Maud,
when the latter was invited to a fancy-dress ball given to children at the
residence of General George Herbert Pegram. At first I was at my wits' end
to devise a suitable gown for her to wear, when Mrs. Scott brought out the
historic fancy dress worn by her mother so many years before in Paris and
gave it to me. It seems almost needless to add that the child wore the dress,
and that I have it now carefully put away among my treasured possessions.
Many years subsequent to Mrs. Scott's visit to Paris, her sister, Mrs. Robert
Henry Cabell of Richmond, published for the benefit of a charity her letters
written from abroad to her family in Virginia, containing many interesting
recollections of Paris.
At the beginning of the Mexican War the Scotts were living in New York
but, for a reason I do not now recall, Mrs. Scott decided to spend a winter
during the General's absence in Philadelphia. She secured a portion of a
furnished house at 111 South Sixth Street, and in the spring of 1847 I was
invited to be her guest. The evening of the day of my arrival I attended a
party at the residence of Judge John Meredith Read, a descendant of George
Read, a Signer from Delaware. Upon the urgent request of Mrs. Scott I went
to this entertainment entirely alone, as she and her daughter Cornelia were

indisposed and she wished her household to be represented. Judge Read
was a widower and some years later I renewed my acquaintance with him in
Washington. During my visit in Philadelphia, Mrs. Scott was suddenly
called away and hesitated about leaving us two young girls in the house
alone, her younger daughters being absent at school. Finally, she made
arrangements for us to spend the days of her absence in Burlington, New
Jersey, with Miss Susan Wallace, a friend of hers and a niece of the Hon.
William Bradford, Attorney-General during a portion of Washington's last
administration. This, however, was not altogether a satisfactory
arrangement for us young people and we became decidedly restless, but to
Burlington we went just the same. Meanwhile, news came from Mexico of
a great American victory and the public went wild with enthusiasm.
Philadelphia made plans to celebrate the glad event on a certain evening,
and Cornelia Scott and I decided to return to Philadelphia for the festivities.
We carefully planned the trip and took as our protector a faithful colored
man named Lee. Arabella Griffith, an adopted daughter of Miss Wallace,
also accompanied us, and as another companion we took Mrs. Scott's pet
dog Gee whom, before the evening was over, we found to be very
troublesome. We made the trip to Philadelphia by water and landed in an
out-of-the-way portion of the city. Owing to the dense crowds assembled to
view the decorations, illuminations and fireworks, we were unable to
procure a carriage and consequently were obliged to walk, while, to cap the
climax, in pushing through the crowd we lost Miss Griffith. General Scott's
name was upon the lips of everyone, and his pictures were seen hanging
from many windows; yet the daughter of the hero who was the cause of all
the enthusiasm was a simple wayfarer, rubbing elbows with the multitude,
unrecognized and entirely ignored. I may state, by the way, that Arabella
Griffith subsequently became the wife of General Francis C. Barlow and
that, while her husband was fighting the battles of his country during the
Civil War, she did noble service in the Union hospitals as a member of the
United States Sanitary Commission, and died in the summer of 1864 from a
fever contracted in the hospitals of the Army of the Potomac.
I remained in Philadelphia much longer than I had originally anticipated,
and unexpected warm weather found me totally unprepared. I immediately
wrote to my sister Margaret and asked her to send me some suitable
apparel. Her letter in reply to mine, which I insert, gives something of an

idea of New York society of that period. As she was quite a young girl her
references to Miss Julia Gerard whom she knew quite well and "Old Leslie
Irving," who, by the way, was only a young man, must be regarded merely
as the silly utterances of extreme youth:—
Dear Sister,
I received your letter and as it requires an immediate answer, I
shall commence writing you one. I believe in my last I
mentioned to you that I was going to Virginia Wood's [Mrs. John
L. Rogers] the following evening. I went with [William B.]
Clerke [a young broker] and had quite a pleasant time. There
were two young ladies there from Virginia whose names I do not
know, Dr. Augustine Smith's daughter, myself, Mr. Galliher, Mr.
Rainsford, Mr. Bannister and Mr. Pendleton [John Pendleton of
Fredericksburg, Virginia]. I was introduced to the latter and
liked him quite well. I had a long talk with him. His manners are
entirely too coquettish to suit me; he does nothing but shrug his
shoulders and roll up his eyes—perhaps it is a Virginia custom.
He seems to think Miss Gerard [Julia, daughter of James W.
Gerard] his belle ideal or beau ideal of everything lovely, etc. I
told him that I thought her awful, that she had such an inanimate
sickly expression, and I abused her at a great rate! I expect he
thinks I am a regular devil!
Tonight I am going to the opera. "Lucretia Borgia" is to be
performed. I have learned a song from Lucia. So you can
imagine how much the rooster has improved!
On Thursday evening I was at the Moore's [Dr. William Moore].
Frank Bucknor came for me and brought me home. His sister
[Cornelia Bucknor, subsequently the wife of Professor John
Howard Van Amringe of Columbia College] was there, Beek
Fish [Beekman Fish], Bayard Fish, Dr. [Adolphus] Follin, old
Leslie Irving and Frank Van Rensselaer. Miss Moore told me
that May came for us that evening to go to the Academy. I am
dreadfully sorry that you will not be able to go to the Kemble
[Mrs. William Kemble] ball; they are going to have it on

Monday. I dare say it will be very pleasant and old Chrystie will
be there. Emily B. [Emily Bucknor] and Frank [Bucknor] are
going.
My hat has come home, and it is very pretty; it is a sherred blue
crape, without any ribbon—trimmed very simply with blue
crape and illusion mixed and the same inside.
Mrs. William Le Roy has been to see you. Ma thinks that you
had better come home when you first expected—on Tuesday or
Wednesday. I am very much disappointed that you are not here
to go to the Kembles as you have a dress to wear.
You can tell Adeline [Adeline Camilla Scott], if you please, that
Mr. Pendleton wants to know the use of sending her to school
when her head is filled with beaux and parties. I told him her
mother did it to keep her out of mischief. Bucknor says he
thinks it is time for you to come home. If you stay much longer
my spring fever will come on and I shall get so many things
there will be no money left for you. Besides Mr. Pendleton is
going to the Bucknor's some day next week and I am going to
get him to stop for me, and if you are home I shall invite you to
go along. Beek Fish will be there the same evening with his
flute. He told Emily B. that his sister [Mrs. Thomas Pym
Remington of Philadelphia] had written them that you had been
in Philadelphia and that she was so delighted to see you.
Leslie Irving told me that he had seen a letter in the Commercial
Advertiser from Thomas Turner [subsequently Rear Admiral
Turner, U.S.N.] to Hamilton Fish. He thought of sending it to
you, but he thought some one else had probably done so. I hear
that they [the Fishes] are to have a party. The Bankheads
[General James Bankhead's daughters] are going to spend the
summer at West Point. Pa and Jim are better. Pa rode out
yesterday and walked out to-day. He has been in a great state of
excitement about General Scott. It was reported two days ago
that he was killed and he was afraid it was true. Vera Cruz, I
believe, is taken. I cannot write any longer, I'm so tired. I will

send Cornelia's [Cornelia Scott] purse by H. Forbes [Harriet
Forbes, Mrs. Colhoun of Philadelphia].
M. Campbell.
Saturday April 10th.
Pa thinks it is time for you to come home. Do you know of any
opportunity? I shall not send anything to you. You see you never
will take my advice in anything. I told you to bring your pink
dress with you but you would not. I suppose I shall not hear
from you again. Pa says you can do as you please about staying
longer.
Elizabeth, New Jersey, was a quaint old town whose inhabitants seemed
almost exclusively made up of Barbers, Ogdens and Chetwoods, with a
sprinkling of De Harts. There was a steamboat plying between
Elizabethport (now a part of the City of Elizabeth) and New York, and we
were its frequent patrons. Ursino, the country seat of the Kean family, then
as now was one of the historic places of the neighborhood. As I remember
the beautiful old home, it was occupied by John Kean, father of the late
senior U.S. Senator from New Jersey. At an earlier period the latter's great-
grandfather had married Susan Livingston, a daughter of Peter Van Brough
Livingston of New York, and resided at Ursino. After the death of her
husband she married Count Julian Niemcewicz, who was called the
"Shakespeare of Poland" and who came to America with Kosciusco, upon
whose staff he had served. She was also the grandmother of Mrs. Hamilton
Fish. Another noted estate in the same general neighborhood, was
"Abyssinia," owned and occupied for a long period by the Ricketts family,
whose walls were highly decorated by one of its artistic members. I am
informed that it still stands but that it is used, alas, for mechanical purposes!
I recall with intense pleasure another of my visits to New Jersey when I was
a guest at the home of General and Mrs. Scott in Elizabeth. Isabella Cass of
Detroit, daughter of General Lewis Cass, was also there at the same time.
She attended school in Paris while her father was Minister to France and
received other educational advantages quite unusual for women at that time.
While residing in Washington at a subsequent period she was regarded as
one of the reigning belles. She married a member of the Diplomatic Corps

from the Netherlands and lived and died abroad. A constant visitor of the
Scott family whom I recall with great pleasure was Thomas Turner,
subsequently an Admiral in our Navy. He was a Virginian by birth and a
near relative of General Robert E. Lee; but, though possessing the blood of
the Carters, he remained during the Civil War loyal to the national flag. His
wife was Frances Hailes Palmer of "Abyssinia."
Still another guest of the Scotts in Elizabeth was the erratic but decidedly
brilliant Doctor William Starbuck Mayo. Although Mrs. Scott was a Mayo,
they were not related. He was from the northern part of the State of New
York, while Mrs. Scott, as is well known, was from Virginia. Doctor Mayo,
however, was an ardent admirer of Mrs. Scott and made the fact apparent in
much that he said and did. He was the author of several works, one of
which was a romance entitled "Kaloolah," which he dedicated to Mrs. Scott.
When I met him in Washington he was on his first bridal tour, although
pretty well advanced in years. His bride was Mrs. Henry Dudley of New
York, whose maiden name was Helen Stuyvesant. She was the daughter of
Nicholas William Stuyvesant and one of the heirs of the large estate of Peter
G. Stuyvesant. During Van Buren's administration, Doctor Mayo was a
social light in Washington.
There was another Dr. Mayo—Robert Mayo of Richmond—who, in some
respects, created a temporary commotion in public life in Washington and
elsewhere. He was a Virginian by birth, and at one time figured prominently
as a politician. He engaged in the presidential campaign of 1828 as an
ardent partisan of General Jackson and during that period edited in
Richmond the Jackson Democrat. He subsequently, however, parted
company with his presidential idol, and in 1839 published a volume
entitled, "Political Sketches of Eight Years in Washington," which is almost
exclusively devoted to an arraignment of General Jackson's administration.
In an original letter now before me, written by Martin Van Buren to
Governor William C. Bouck, of New York, which has never before
appeared in print, he speaks in an amusing manner of Dr. Mayo. I insert the
whole letter, as his allusions to General Jackson are of exceptional interest.
No one can well deny that the parting admonition of Polonius to his son
Laertes is a masterpiece of human wisdom, but this letter of the "Sage of
Lindenwald" to Governor Bouck reveals ability by no means inferior to that
of this wise councilor of Denmark.

[ex-president van buren to gov. william c. bouck of n.y.]
Confidential.
Lindenwald,
Jany. 17th 1843.
My dear Sir,
I embrace the occasion of a short visit of my son Major Van
Buren to Albany before he goes South to drop you a few lines.
Although I have not admitted it in my conversations with those
who are given to croaking, and thus alarm our friends, I have
nevertheless witnessed with the keenest regret the distractions
among our friends at Albany; & more particularly in relation to
the state printing. It is certainly a lamentable winding up of a
great contest admirably conducted &, as we supposed,
gloriously terminated. Without undertaking to decide who is
right or who is wrong, and much less to take any part in the
unfortunate controversy, I cannot but experience great pain from
the eying of so bitter a controversy in the face of the enemy
among those who once acted together so honorably & so
usefully, and for all of whom I have so much reason to cherish
feelings of respect & regard. Permit me to make one suggestion,
& that relates to the importance of a speedy decision, one way
or the other. Nothing is so injurious in such cases as delay. It is
almost better to decide wrong than to protract the contest. Every
day makes new enemies & increases the animosities of those
who have already become so, & extends them to other subjects;
and yet nothing is so natural as to desire to put off the decision
of controversies among friends. Most happy would I be to find
that you had been able to mitigate, if not altogether to obviate,
existing difficulties by providing places for one or more of the
competitors in other branches of the public service to which they
are adapted & with which they would be as well satisfied.
It has afforded me unfeigned satisfaction to learn, as I do from
all quarters, that you keep your own secrets in regard to
appointments, & don't feed every body with promises or what

they construe into promises—a practice which so many public
men are apt to fall into, & by which they make themselves more
trouble & subject themselves to more discredit than they dream
of. Persevere in that course, consider carefully every case &
make the selection which your own unbiassed judgment
designates as the best, & above all let the people see as clear as
day that you do not yield yourself to, or make battle against, any
cliques or sections of the party, but act in good faith and to the
best of your ability for the good of the whole, and you may be
assured that the personal discontents which you would to some
extent occasion, if you had the wisdom of Solomon & were pure
as an angel, will do you no harm & be exceedingly evanescent
in their duration. The Democratic is a reasonable & a just party
& more than half of the business is done when they are satisfied
that the man they have elected means to do right. The difficulty
with a new administration is in the beginning. At the start little
matters may create a distrust which it will take a series of good
acts to remove. But once a favourable impression is made & the
people become satisfied that the right thing is intended, it takes
great errors, often repeated, to create a counter current. Will you
excuse me if, from a sincere desire for your success, I go farther
& touch upon matters not political, or at least not wholly so?
Your situation of course excites envy & jealousy on the part of
some. It is impossible from the character of man that it should
be otherwise, bear yourself ever so meekly & you cannot avoid
it. There will therefore in Albany, as well as elsewhere, be
people who will make ill natured remarks & there will be still
more who will make it their business, in the hope of benefitting
themselves, to bring you exaggerated accounts of what is said,
and if they lack materials they will tell you, if they find that you
like to listen to small things, a great deal that never has been
said. It is my deliberate opinion that these mischievous gossips
cause public men more vexation, yes, ten fold, than all the cares
& anxieties of office taken together. I have seen perhaps as
much of this as any man of my age, & claim to be a competent
judge of the evil & its remedies. The greatest fault I ever saw in
our excellent friend Genl. Jackson, was the facility with which

(in carrying out his general principle that it was the duty of the
President to hear all) he leant his ear, though not his confidence,
to such people. Though very sagacious & very apt to put the
right construction upon all such revelations, it was still evident
that he was every day more or less annoyed by them. I
endeavored to satisfy him of the expediency of shutting their
mouths, but did not succeed, & I am as sure as I can be of any
such thing that if the truth could be known it would appear that
he had experienced more annoyance from such sources than
from all the severe trials through which he had to pass & did
pass with such unfading glory. Having his case before me, I
determined to profit by the experience I had acquired in so good
a school. I had no sooner taken possession of the White House
than I was beset by these harpies. The way in which I treated the
whole crew, with variations of course according to
circumstances, will appear from the following dialogue in a
single case. The celebrated Dr. Mayo called upon me & in his
stuttering & mysterious way commenced by asking when he
could have a few minutes very private conversation with me.
Knowing the man, I anticipated his business & told him now, I
will hear you now. He then told me he had discovered a
conspiracy to destroy me politically the particulars of which he
felt it to be his duty to lay before [me]. I replied instantly, &
somewhat sternly, Dr., I do not wish to hear them. I have
irrefragable proof, he replied. I don't care, was the response. It is
in writing, Sir, said he. I won't look at it, Sir. What, said he, don't
you want to see it if it is in writing & genuine? An emphatic No,
Sir, closed the conversation. The Dr. raised his eyes and hands
as if he thought me demented, & making a low bow &
ejaculating a long Hah-hah retreated for the door. The story
about the Dr. got out and, partly by mine & I believe in part also
by his means, & alarmed all the story tellers who heard of it. A
few repetitions of the same dose to others impressed the whole
crew with a conviction that nothing was to be gained by
bringing such reports to me. The consequence was that although
Washington is perhaps the most gossiping place in the world, I
escaped its contamination altogether, and had no trouble except

such as unavoidably grew out of my public duties; and although
I had perhaps a more vexatious time than any of my
predecessors in that respect I was the only man, they all say,
who grew fat in that office.
I was happy to learn from my son John by a letter received
yesterday the high opinion he entertains of your discreet &
honorable bearing in the midst of the difficulties by which you
are beset. I hope he & Smith, [another son of Martin Van
Buren], exercise the discretion by which their course has
heretofore been governed, in meddling as little with things
political that do not belong to them as possible. They know that
such is my wish, as any contest there must necessarily be more
or less between my friends; and I shall be obliged to you to give
them from time to time such advice upon the subject as you may
think proper. Be assured that they will take it in good part. You
may, if you please, at your convenience, return me the
suggestions I sent you, as I may have occasion to weave some
parts of them into letters that I am frequently obliged to write;
the rough draft was made with a pencil & is now illegible. Be
assured that your not using them occasioned me no
mortification, as I before told you it would not. You had a nearer
& could take a safer view of things than myself. Don't trouble
yourself to answer this letter as it requires none; only excuse me
for writing you one so unmercifully long.
Remember me kindly to Mrs. Bouck, & believe me to be
Very sincerely your friend,
M. Van Buren.
His Excellency,
Wm. C. Bouck.
In 1850 General and Mrs. Scott moved to Washington and Hampton was
closed for many years. They lived in one of the houses built by Count De
Menou, French Minister to this country from 1822 to 1824, on H Street,
between Thirteenth and Fourteenth Streets, on the present site of the

Epiphany Parish House. These residences were commonly called the "chain
buildings," owing to the fact that their fences were made almost entirely of
iron chains. Two of them, thrown into one, were occupied by the Scotts and
were owned by my father-in-law, Samuel L. Gouverneur, senior. In the
third, the property of Mrs. Beverly Kennon, lived the venerable Mrs.
Alexander Hamilton and her only daughter, Mrs. Hamilton Holly.

CHAPTER IX
SOCIAL LEADERS IN WASHINGTON LIFE

I passed many delightful hours in the Washington home of General Scott
and had a standing invitation to come and go as I pleased. Upon his return
from the war with Mexico, crowned with the laurels of victory, he
immediately became one of the most prominent lions of the day. He had
successfully invaded a practically unknown country reeking with the
terrible vomito, a disease upon which the Mexicans relied to kill their foes
more expeditiously than ammunition, and had well earned for himself the
plaudits of a grateful country. I distinctly remember that he received
flattering letters from the Duke of Wellington and other distinguished
foreigners congratulating him upon his military success. His headquarters
were now established in Washington, and his house became one of the most
prominent social centers of the National Capital. About this time Mrs. Scott
was much in New York, where her third daughter, Marcella, subsequently
Mrs. Charles Carroll McTavish, was attending school, and consequently her
daughter Cornelia, who not long before had married her father's aide, Henry
Lee Scott of North Carolina, was virtually mistress of the establishment.
Mrs. Henry Lee Scott's social sway in Washington was almost
unprecedented. She was as grand in appearance as she was in character, and
during one of her visits to Rome she sat for a distinguished artist as a model
for his pictures of the Madonna. General Scott seemed to derive much
pleasure and satisfaction from the society of his former companions in
arms, who were always welcomed to his hospitable board. Among those I
especially recall were Colonels John Abert, Roger Jones, William Turnbull
and Ichabod B. Crane, whose son, Dr. Charles H. Crane, later became
Surgeon General of the Army. These occasions were especially delightful to
me as a young woman, and I always regarded it as an exceptional privilege
to be present.
The Whig party meanwhile nominated General Scott for the presidency.
The opposing candidate was Franklin Pierce. One day during the campaign
Scott, in replying to a note addressed to him by William L. Marcy,

Secretary of War in Polk's cabinet, began his note: "After a hasty plate of
soup"—supposing that his note would be regarded as personal. Marcy, who
was a keen political foe, was too astute a politician, however, not to take
advantage of the chance to make Scott appear ridiculous. He classified the
note as official, and the whole country soon resounded with it. I saw
General Scott when he returned from his Mexican campaign, covered with
glory, to confront his political enemies at home, and I was also with him in
1852 when the announcement arrived that he had been defeated as a
presidential candidate. Were I called upon to decide in which character he
appeared to the greater advantage, that of the victor or the vanquished, I
should unhesitatingly give my verdict to the latter. There was a grandeur in
his bearing under the adverse circumstances with which the success and
glamour of arms could not compare.
The Rev. Dr. Smith Pyne, the beloved rector of St. John's Episcopal Church,
often mingled with the distinguished guests gathered at the residence of
General Scott. He was full of life and fun and good cheer and would even
dare, when occasion offered, to aim his jokes and puns at General Scott
himself. At one of the General's dinners, for example, while the soup was
being served, he addressed him as "Marshal Turenne." It is said that upon
one occasion, when the good rector failed by polite efforts to dismiss a
book-agent, he was regretfully compelled to order him from his house.
"Your cloth protects you," said the offended agent. "The cloth protects you,"
replied Dr. Pyne, "and it will not protect you long if you do not leave this
instant." In spite of this incident, it was well known that the Doctor had a
tender and sympathetic nature. After he had officiated at the funerals of his
parishioners it is said that his wife was frequently compelled to exert all her
efforts to arouse him from his depression. About this same period, Ole Bull,
the great Norwegian violinist who was second only to Paganini, was
receiving an enthusiastic reception from audiences "panting for the music
which is divine." Upon this particular evening Dr. Pyne sat next to me,
when he suddenly exclaimed: "If honorary degrees were conferred upon
musicians, Ole Bull would be Fiddle D.D." At another time, when Dr.
Edward Maynard, a well-known Washington dentist, was remodeling his
residence on Pennsylvania Avenue, now a portion of the Columbia Hospital,
Dr. Pyne was asked to what order of architecture it belonged and replied:
"Tusk-can, I suppose,"—a pretty poor pun, but no worse, perhaps, than most

of those one hears nowadays. The Rev. Dr. Pyne performed the marriage
ceremony, at the "chain buildings," of General Scott's second daughter,
Adeline Camilla, and Goold Hoyt of New York. It was a quiet wedding and
only the members of the family were present. I remember the bride as one
of the most beautiful women I have ever known; her face reminded me of a
Roman cameo.
General Scott was something of an epicure. I have seen him sit down to a
meal where jowl was the principal dish, and have heard his exclamation of
appreciation caused in part, possibly, by his recollection of similar fare in
other days in Virginia. He did the family marketing personally, and was
very discriminating in his selection of food. Terrapin, which he insisted
upon pronouncing tarrapin, was his favorite dish, and he would order
oysters by the barrel from Norfolk. On one occasion he attended a banquet
where all the States of the Union were represented by a dish in some way
characteristic of each commonwealth. Pennsylvania was represented by a
bowl of sauer-kraut; and in speaking of the fact the next morning the
General remarked: "I partook of it with tears in my eyes."
New Year's day in Washington was a festive occasion, especially in the
home where I was a guest. General and Mrs. Scott kept open house and of
course most of the Army officers stationed in Washington, and some from
the Navy, called to pay their respects. All appeared in full-dress uniform,
and a bountiful collation was served. I was present at several of these
receptions and recall that after the festivities of the day were nearly over
General Scott, who of course had paid his respects to the President earlier in
the day, always called upon two venerable women—Mrs. "Dolly" Madison,
who then lived in the house now occupied by the Cosmos Club, and Mrs.
Alexander Hamilton, his next door neighbor. During the winter of 1850,
which I spent with the Scotts, I participated with them in the various social
enjoyments of the season.
Early in the month of January, 1851, and not long after the re-assembling of
Congress, that genial gentleman, William W. Corcoran, gave his annual ball
to both Houses of Congress, and it was in many ways a notable
entertainment. As this was long previous to the erection of his public art
gallery, his house was filled with many paintings and pieces of statuary.
Powers's "Greek slave," which now occupies a conspicuous place in the

Corcoran Art Gallery, stood in the drawing-room. General Scott did not care
especially for large evening entertainments, but he always attended those of
Mr. Corcoran. In this instance I was the only member of the household who
accompanied him, and the ovation that awaited his arrival was enthusiastic;
and as I entered the ballroom with him I received my full share of attention.
Among the prominent guests was General "Sam" Houston, arrayed in his
blue coat, brass buttons and ruffled shirt. His appearance was patrician and
his courtesy that of the inborn gentleman. I once laughingly remarked to
General Scott that General Houston in some ways always recalled to me the
personal appearance of General Washington. His facetious rejoinder was:
"Was ever the Father of his Country so defamed?" I met at this
entertainment for the first time Charles Sumner, who had but recently taken
his seat in the U.S. Senate and of whom I shall speak hereafter. Caleb
Cushing was also there, and Cornelia Marcy, the beautiful daughter of
William L. Marcy, was one of the belles of the ball. I have stated that
General Scott did not generally attend evening entertainments; in his own
way, however, he took great interest in all social events, and upon my return
from parties, sometimes at a very late hour, I have often found him awaiting
my account of what had transpired.
I have spoken of General Houston's appearance. I now wish to refer to his
fine sense of honor. He was married on the 22d of January, 1829, to Miss
Eliza Allen, daughter of Colonel John Allen, from near Gallatin, the county
town of Sumner county in Tennessee, and separated from her directly after
the marriage ceremony under, as is said, the most painful circumstances.
The wedding guests had departed and General Houston and his bride were
sitting alone by the fire, when he suddenly discovered that she was
weeping. He asked the cause of her tears and was told by her that she had
never loved him and never could, but had married him solely to please her
father. "I love Doctor Douglas," she added, "but I will try my best and be a
dutiful wife to you." "Miss," said Governor Houston, even waiving the fact
that he had just married her, "no white woman shall be my slave; good-
night." It is said that he mounted his horse and rode to Nashville where he
resigned at once his office as Governor and departed for the Cherokee
country, where and elsewhere his subsequent career is well known. Having
procured a divorce from his wife, he married Margaret Moffette in the
spring of 1840.

During the same winter I attended a party given by Mrs. Clement C. Hill, as
a "house-warming," at her residence on H Street. Many years later George
Bancroft, the historian, occupied this residence and it is still called the
"Bancroft house." Mr. Hill was a member of a prominent Maryland family
which owned large estates in Prince George County, and his wife was
recognized as one of the social leaders in Washington.
Another ball which I recall, which I attended in company with the Scotts,
was given by Colonel and Mrs. William G. Freeman at their residence on F
Street, near Thirteenth Street, the former of whom was at one time Chief of
Staff to General Scott. I well remember that General Scott accompanied his
daughter and me and that he wore at the time the full-dress uniform of his
high rank. As he measured six feet four in his stocking-feet, the imposing
nature of his appearance cannot well be described. Mrs. Freeman, whose
maiden name was Margaret Coleman, was one of the joint owners of the
Cornwall coal mines in Pennsylvania. Her sister, Miss Sarah Coleman,
shared her house for many years, and old Washingtonians remember her as
the "Lady Bountiful" whose whole life was devoted to good works. Colonel
and Mrs. Freeman's two daughters, Miss Isabel Freeman and Mrs.
Benjamin F. Buckingham, still reside in Washington.
The first guest whom I recall at this ball was the sprightly Mary Louisa
Adams. She made her home with her grandfather, John Quincy Adams, who
lived in one of the two white houses on F Street, between Thirteenth and
Fourteenth Streets, now called the "Adams house." She was the venerable
ex-President's principal heir, and subsequently married her relative, William
Clarkson Johnson of Utica. George B. McClellan was also a guest at this
entertainment as one of the young beaux. His presence made an indelible
impression upon my memory as I was dancing a cotillion with him when, to
my nervous horror, the pictures in the ballroom began to spin and I made
myself conspicuous by nearly fainting. I did not, however, lose
consciousness like the heroines of the old tragedies, and was conducted to a
retired seat where, at the request of General Scott, I was attended by Dr.
Richard Henry Coolidge, Surgeon in the Army, who was also a guest.
General Scott's admiration for this distinguished gentleman, personally as
well as professionally, was very great. I have often heard the General say
that Dr. Coolidge not only prescribed for the physical condition of his
patients but also by the example of his Christian character elevated their

moral tone. He concluded his eulogy with the words: "Dr. Coolidge walks
humbly before his God." His widow, Mrs. Harriet Morris Coolidge,
daughter of Commodore Charles Morris, U.S.N., one of the distinguished
heroes of the War of 1812, is still living in Washington. I occasionally see
her in her pleasant home on L Street where she welcomes a large circle of
friends, giving one amid her pleasant surroundings a pleasing picture of a
serene old age.
During my many visits to the Scott household after the Mexican War, I
always occupied a comfortable brass camp bedstead which had formerly
belonged to the Mexican General, Santa Anna. It seems that just after the
battle of Cerro Gordo this warrior made a hasty flight, leaving behind him
his camp furniture and even, it is said, his wooden leg. This bedstead was
captured as a trophy of war, and finally came into General Scott's
possession. The memory of this man's brutal deeds, however, never
disturbed my midnight repose. Texas history tells the story of the Alamo
and of the six brave men there put to death by his orders, suggesting in a
certain degree the atrocities of the Duke of Cumberland of which I have
already spoken. Santa Anna, however, had Indian blood in his veins—an
extenuating circumstance that cannot be offered in defense of the "Butcher
of Culloden."
There was always more or less gossip afloat concerning the alleged strained
relations existing between General and Mrs. Scott, owing largely to the fact
that the conditions attending and surrounding their respective lives were
fundamentally different and often misunderstood. General Scott was a born
commander while Madame la Général from her earliest life had had the
world at her feet. Such a combination naturally resulted in an occasional
discordant note, which unfortunately was usually sounded in public. Their
private life, however, was serene, and they were invariably loyal to each
other's interests. When Mrs. Scott, for example, learned that James Lyon of
Richmond, an intimate friend of the General and herself and a trustee for
certain of her property, had, although a Whig, voted against her husband
when a presidential candidate, she at once revoked his trusteeship. At
another time she wrote some attractive lines which she feelingly dedicated
to her husband.

I recall an amusing incident related by General Scott just after a journey to
Virginia that well illustrates the exigencies that awaited persons traveling in
those days in carriages. For a brief period before the inauguration of
President Harrison, General Scott was in Richmond, and in due time, as he
thought, started for the station to catch a train for Washington to be present
when the President-elect should take his oath of office. He missed the train,
however, and immediately secured a carriage to convey him to Washington,
as his presence there was imperative; but after a hard day's journey the
horses could go no further, and he was obliged to seek shelter for the night.
Stopping at a house near the roadside and inquiring whether he could be
accommodated, he was told that there was but one vacant room and that it
had been engaged some days in advance by a German butcher,
accompanied by his wife and daughter. This party meanwhile arrived and
upon being informed of General Scott's predicament generously offered to
share the room with him. It was arranged that the women should occupy
one of the beds and General Scott and the butcher the other. The women,
after retiring early, gave the signal, "All right," when the men took
possession of the second bed. After some pretty fast traveling the next
morning, General Scott reached his destination. While he was relating this
laughable experience to us some years later, I inquired whether he had
enjoyed a comfortable rest. "No," was his emphatic response, "the butcher
snored the whole night." During this visit to Richmond, General Scott was
invited by an old friend to accompany her and her two sisters to a Roman
Catholic church to hear some fine music. Upon arriving at the door they
were met by the sexton, who, somewhat flurried by seeing General Scott,
announced in stentorian tones the advent of the strangers—"three cheers
(chairs) for the Protestant ladies."

Brigadier General Winfield Scott,
U.S.A., by Ingham.
The original portrait was burned
many years ago.
While I am relating Scott anecdotes, I must not omit to speak of an amusing
experience the old General was fond of relating which occurred while he
was traveling in the West. In his official capacity he was a sojourner for a
short period in Cincinnati, and, upon leaving that now prosperous city, he
directed that P.P.C. cards be sent to all persons who had called upon him. It
seems that the social convenances had not yet dawned upon this city, now
the abode of arts and sciences, as the town wiseacre, learned in many things
as well as social lore, was called upon for an elucidation of the three
mysterious letters. Apparently he was not as able an exponent as was Daniel
at Balshazzar's feast, who so readily deciphered "the handwriting on the
wall." He construed the letters to signify pour prendre café, an invitation
which was gladly accepted, much to General Scott's astonishment, who
decided then and there to confine himself in future to plain English.

The charming old resident society predominated in those days in the
District of Columbia, and wealth was not a controlling influence in social
life. The condition of society was, therefore, different from that of to-day,
when apparently the

... strongest castle, tower or town,
The golden bullet beateth down.

The old Washingtonians are now sometimes designated as "cave dwellers,"
and, generally speaking, the public bows to the golden calf. The term "old
Washingtonians," as now used, applies to residents descended from the
original settlers of Maryland and Virginia, as well as to Presidential families
and the representatives of Army and Navy officers of earlier days. Their
social code is, in some respects, entirely different and distinct from that of
any other city, and was formed many decades ago by the ancestors of the
"cave dwellers," who were so peculiarly versed in the varied requirements
and adornments of social life that to-day no radical innovations are
acceptable to their descendants.
Speaking of the Army and Navy, I am reminded of an amusing anecdote
which has been generally circulated regarding the wife of a wealthy
manufacturer from a small western town who, after building a handsome
home in the heart of a fashionable section of the city, announced that her
visiting list was growing so large that she must in some way reduce it and
that she had decided to "draw it" on the Army and Navy. It seems almost
needless to say that this remark created much unfavorable comment, as
Washington is especially proud of the Army and Navy officers she has
nurtured.
Among the families who were socially prominent at the National Capital
when I first knew it, were the Seatons, Gales, Lees, Freemans, Carrolls,
Turnbulls, Hagners, Tayloes, Ramsays, Millers, Hills, Gouverneurs,
Maynadiers, Grahams, Woodhulls, Jesups, Watsons, Nicholsons,
Warringtons, Aberts, Worthingtons, Randolphs, Wilkes, Wainwrights, Roger
Jones, Pearsons, McBlairs, Farleys, Cutts, Walter Jones, Porters, Emorys,
Woodburys, Dickens, Pleasantons, McCauleys, and Mays.

I often recall with pleasure the days spent by me at Brentwood, a fine old
country seat near Washington, and picture to my mind those forms of "life
and light" arrayed in the charms of simplicity which were there portrayed.
The far West had not then poured its coffers into the National Capital, and
the mining element of California was then unknown. It is true that
Washington, with its unpaved streets and poorly lighted thoroughfares, was
then in a primitive condition, but it is just as true that its social tone has
never been surpassed. Brentwood was the residence of Mrs. Joseph
Pearson, who dispensed its hospitalities with ease and elegance. For many
years it was a social El Dorado, where resident society and distinguished
strangers were always welcome. Although it was then remote from the heart
of the city, most of its numerous visitors were inclined to linger, once within
its walls, to enjoy the charmed circle which surrounded the Pearson family.
Both the daughters of this house, Eliza, who married Carlisle P. Patterson,
Superintendent of the U.S. Coast Survey, and Josephine, who became the
wife of Peter Augustus Jay of New York, were Washington beauties. Their
social arena, however, was not confined to this city, as they made frequent
visits to New York, where they were regarded as great belles. Christine
Kean, an old friend of mine who was a younger sister of Mrs. Hamilton
Fish, both of whom were daughters of Peter Philip James Kean of New
Jersey, was intimate with the "Pearson girls," and made frequent visits to
Brentwood, where she shared in their social reign. Christine Kean married
William Preston Griffin, a naval officer from Virginia, who survived their
marriage for only a few years. I was accustomed to call her "sunshine" as
she carried joy and gladness to every threshold she crossed. She was
superintendent of nurses in the sanitary corps during the Civil War, and as
such rendered conspicuous service in the State of Virginia. She still resides
in New York, admired and beloved by a large circle of friends, and those
charming traits of character which have always made her so universally
beloved are now hallowing the declining years of her life.
I often met Joseph C. G. Kennedy at General Scott's, usually called
"Census" Kennedy. One day we were shocked to learn that Solon Borland,
U.S. Senator from Arkansas, standing high in political circles but called by
General Scott "a western ruffian," had assaulted Mr. Kennedy and broken
his nose. I knew both Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy in after life. He was a
gentleman of the old school, beloved and respected by everyone. His death

in 1887 was a shocking tragedy. A lunatic with a fancied grievance met him
on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Fifteenth Street, and stabbed
him. Mr. Kennedy was a grandson of Andrew Ellicott, who, his descendants
claim, conceived the original plans of the city of Washington instead of
Pierre Charles l'Enfant, to whom they are generally attributed.
While visiting in Washington I had the pleasure of renewing my
acquaintance with Isaac Hull Adams of the Coast Survey. He was a
bachelor, and his sister, Miss Elizabeth Combs Adams, always lived with
him. They were children of Judge Thomas Boylston Adams, a son of
President John Adams, and resided in the old Adams homestead in Quincy,
Massachusetts. I had originally known both of them in earlier life in New
York, and it was a sincere pleasure to meet them again. Miss Adams was a
generous and broad-minded woman who inherited the intellectuality of her
ancestors. Her reminiscences of the White House during the Monroe
administration, when her uncle, John Quincy Adams, was Secretary of
State, were of the deepest interest. She also loved to dwell upon the days of
the administration which followed, when she was a constant visitor at the
White House as the guest of her uncle, the President. I called upon her a
few years ago in Quincy, while I was visiting in Boston, and found her
living quietly in the old home, surrounded by her many household gods.
She died soon after I saw her, but the memory of her friendship is enduring.
Before making my visit to Quincy I wrote to Miss Adams asking her
whether she was equal to seeing me. She was then nearly ninety-two years
old, having been born on the 9th of February, 1808. In a few days I received
the following letter from her own pen:
21 Elm Street, Quincy, Mass., November 16, 1899.
My dear Mrs. Gouverneur:
I was very glad to receive your note saying that you would come
to see us in a few days. I am a very poor writer, not holding the
old pen of the "ready writer," and my brother Isaac Hull is a
great invalid and not able to get about, so lame.
I began two or three notes to you but my fingers are so stiff I do
not hold the pen, but wish to tell you that we shall be glad to see

you. We are both tired of being invalids. We do not forget good
old times far back in the century. The steam cars leave Boston at
the South Station. I think I sent you a letter yesterday, but if you
fail to get it, I shall be very sorry.
I have so many letters to write and can but just keep the pen
going. It is a lovely day, but I never go out now and Isaac Hull is
suffering all sorts of pains. Comes down when he can. Sorry to
send such a poor sample. I have not been at Jamaica Plain for
two years.
We live in the oldest house and are the oldest couple in "all
Connecticut," as Hull used to sing.
Very truly yours,
E. C. Adams.
As I say, the very oldest and the head of five generations. I am
so forgetful.
"Hull" Adams, as he was generally called, had a fine tenor voice and I have
frequently heard him sing in duet with Archibald Campbell, who sang bass.
Adams and Campbell were lifelong friends and were fellow students at
West Point. The latter was graduated from West Point in 1835 and resigned
from the Army in 1838. He subsequently became a civil engineer and was a
Commissioner to establish the boundaries between the United States and
Canada. His wife was Miss Mary Williamson Harod of New Orleans, and a
niece of Judge Thomas B. Adams. Her father, Charles Harod, who was
president of the Atchafalaya Bank of New Orleans, was an aide-de-camp to
General Jackson at the battle of New Orleans and, with Commodore Daniel
T. Patterson in command of our naval forces, met and arranged with the
pirate Jean Lafitte to bring in his men to fight on the American side. Mr. and
Mrs. Campbell were lifelong residents of the District, where she is
especially remembered for her many pleasing traits. Their son, Charles H.
Campbell, still resides in Washington and married a daughter of the late
Admiral David D. Porter, U.S.N. For many years, the Archibald Campbells
lived on H Street in a house which is now a portion of The Milton.

I remember when Commander Matthew F. Maury, U.S.N., the distinguished
author of "The Geography of the Sea," was stationed in the old Naval
Observatory and preparing those charts of the ocean which so gladdened the
hearts of mariners, quite unconscious meanwhile of the sensational career
which awaited him. He and Mrs. Maury resided in Washington and, aided
by their daughters, dispensed a lavish hospitality. A few years later,
however, when Virginia seceded from the Union, Maury resigned from the
Navy and linked his destiny with his native State. I learned much of his
subsequent career from General John Bankhead Magruder, a distant relative
of my husband, who also resigned from the service and espoused the
Southern cause. At the time of General Lee's surrender, Maury was in
England and the following May sailed for St. Thomas, where he heard of
Lincoln's assassination. He then went to Havana, whence he sent his son to
Virginia, and took passage for Mexico. He had approved of the efforts of
the Archduke Maximilian to establish his empire in America and had
already written him a letter expressive of his sympathy. Without waiting,
however, for a reply he followed his letter, and upon his arrival in Mexico
in June was warmly welcomed by Maximilian, by whom he was asked to
accept a place in his Ministry; but the flattering offer was declined and in its
place he received an appointment as Director of the Imperial Observatory. It
seems superfluous to add what everyone knows, or ought to know, that
Maury was a Christian gentleman of rare accomplishments and one of the
most proficient scientists of his day.
General Magruder was with Maury when they learned of Lincoln's
assassination, and accompanied him to Mexico, where he served as Major
General in Maximilian's army until the downfall of the usurping Emperor.
In referring to his experiences in Mexico he dwelt with much emphasis
upon the Empress Carlota and her interesting personality. He described her
as especially kind and sympathetic and as treating Maury and himself with
distinguished consideration at her court. This pleasing experience, however,
was not of long duration. A cloud hung over the Mexican throne and it
became apparent that Maximilian's reign was drawing to a close. Realizing
this state of affairs, Magruder and Maury left Mexico, the former returning
to the United States while the latter sailed for Europe. The Empress Carlota
returned to Austria, leaving Maximilian to fight alone a hopeless cause.
Louis Napoleon's vision of an European Empire on American soil soon

vanished, and Maximilian's tragic death and Carlota's subsequent
derangement caused a throb of sympathy which was felt throughout the
civilized world.
During the Mexican War, General Magruder, though a good officer and one
of the bravest and most chivalrous of men, never lost sight of his position in
the beau monde. He never went into battle, however pressing the
emergency, without first brushing his hair well, smoothing his mustache and
arranging his toggery after the latest and most approved style. Often during
the rage of the battle, while the shot were raining around him like hail and
his men and horses and guns were exposed to a destructive and merciless
fire, he would stand up with his tall, straight figure in full view of the
Mexicans and, assuming the most impressive and fashionable attitudes,
would eye the enemy through his glass with all the coolness and grace
suited to a glance through an opera glass at a beautiful woman in an
opposite box. I have always heard that he could not be provoked by any
circumstances to commit an impolite or an ungenteel act. But he came very
near forfeiting his reputation in this respect at the battle of Contreras. Upon
being ordered to take a certain position with his battery, he found himself
exposed to a terrible fire from the enemy's big guns. In the midst of this hot
fire, an aide of one of the generals, from whom Magruder had not received
his order to occupy this position, rode up to the gallant officer and told him
that he had orders for him from General ——. "But, my dear fellow,"
interrupted the polite Captain, "you must dismount and take a glass of wine
with me; do—I have some excellent old Madeira." The aide dismounted
and the wine was hastily drunk by the impatient young Lieutenant, who did
not enjoy it very much as there was a constant fire of grape and canister
rattling about them all the time. But Captain Magruder desired very much to
have a little agreeable chat over his wine, as, he remarked, it was no use
popping away with his diminutive pieces against the heavy guns of the
enemy. "But I am ordered by General —— to direct you to fall back,
abandon your position, and shelter your pieces," was the impatient
response. "My dear fellow," replied the Captain, "do take another sip of that
wine—it is delicious!" "But you are ordered by General —— to retire,
Captain; and you are being cut up." "Much obliged to you, my dear friend,
but if you will only make yourself comfortable for a few minutes, I will get
some sardines and crackers." "I must go," impatiently remarked the

Lieutenant, mounting his horse; "what shall I report to the General?" "Well,
my dear fellow, if you are determined to go, please present my compliments
to General —— and tell him that, owing to a previous engagement with
General ——, I am under the necessity of informing him that before I leave
this spot I will see him in the neighborhood of a certain gentleman whose
name is not to be mentioned in polite society." So, at all events, goes the
story, and I presume we may believe as much or as little of it as we please.
General Magruder, while our guest in our country home near Frederick, in
Maryland, related to me many interesting incidents connected with Maury's
career. The General seemed to possess an unusual appreciation of the good
things of life and told me with much gusto about the numerous delicacies
with which Mexico abounded. His descriptions served to recall to my mind
the fact that when he was in our regular army he had the reputation of
"faring sumptuously every day." When in command at Newport, Rhode
Island, he gave a ball, during which he employed the services of some of
the soldiers under his command for domestic purposes, and for this act was
reprimanded by the War Department. After the Civil War he went to Texas
and died in Houston in the winter of 1871. He was a brave soldier and was
twice brevetted for gallantry and meritorious conduct on the battlefields of
the Mexican War.
General John B. Magruder and his brother, Captain George A. Magruder of
the Navy, who early in life became orphans, were brought up by their
maternal uncle, General James Bankhead, U.S.A. General "Jack" Magruder,
as he was usually called, developed rather lively traits of character, while
his younger brother George was so deeply religious that, during his naval
career, his nickname was "St. George of the Navy." When both young men
had reached manhood, General Bankhead read them a homily, having
special reference, however, to his nephew "Jack." "I have reared you both
with the utmost care and circumspection," he said, "but you, John, have not
my approval in many ways." Jack's response was characteristic. "Uncle," he
said, "I can account for it in the following manner—George has followed
your precepts, but I have followed your example." At the outbreak of the
Civil War, Captain Magruder resigned from the Navy and went with his
family to Canada, where his daughter Helen married James York
MacGregor Scarlett, whose title of nobility was Lord Abinger, his father
having been raised to the peerage as a "lower Lord."

Another Virginia family of social prominence, whose members mingled
much in Washington society while I was still visiting the Winfield Scotts,
was that of the Masons of "Colross," the name of their old homestead near
Alexandria in Virginia. Mrs. Thomson F. Mason was usually called Mrs.
"Colross" Mason to distinguish her from another family by the same name,
that of James M. Mason, United States Senator from Virginia. The family
thought nothing of the drive to Washington, and no entertainment was quite
complete without the "Mason girls," who were especially bright and
attractive young women. Open house was kept at this delightful country
seat and many were the pleasant parties given there. One of the daughters,
Matilda, married Charles H. Rhett, a representative South Carolinian, and
my friend, Cornelia Scott, was one of her bridesmaids. Florence, another
sister, who was generally called "Folly," married Captain Thomas G. Rhett
of the Army, a brother of her sister's husband. He resigned at the beginning
of the Civil War, as a South Carolinian would indeed have been a rara avis
in the Federal Army in 1861, and became an officer in the Confederate
Army; while from 1870 to 1873 he was a Colonel of Ordnance in the Army
of the Khedive. Miss Betty Mason, the oldest of these sisters, was a
celebrated beauty and became the wife of St. George Tucker Campbell of
Philadelphia.
It was about this time I first made the acquaintance of Emily Virginia
Mason, who recently died in Georgetown after a long and active life. We
were accustomed to have long conversations over the tea table concerning
bygone days, and I sadly miss her bright presence. Her memories of a
varied life both in Washington and Paris were highly entertaining and as
one of her auditors I never grew weary while listening to her graphic
descriptions of persons and things. She was a daughter of John T. Mason
and a sister of Stevens Thompson Mason, the first governor of Michigan,
often called the "Boy Governor." She was very active during the Civil War
as a Confederate nurse and continued her kindly acts thereafter in other
fields of benevolence. She wrote a life of General Robert E. Lee and several
other books, and made a compilation of "Southern Poems of the War,"
which was subsequently published under that title.
One may readily turn from Emily Virginia Mason to her life-long friend, the
daughter of Senator William Wright of New Jersey. It was during her
father's official life in Washington that Miss Katharine Maria Wright met

and married Baron Johan Cornelis Gevers, Chargé d'affaires from Holland
to the United States. After her marriage she seldom visited her native
country but made her home in Holland until her death a few years ago. Her
son also entered the diplomatic service of his country and a few years ago
was living in Washington.
After my father's death we continued as a family to live in our Houston
Street home in New York, but in 1853 we found the character of the
neighborhood, which had been so pleasant in years gone by, changing so
rapidly that we sold our house and moved to Washington. We secured a
pleasant old-fashioned residence on G Street, between Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Streets, which in subsequent years became the Weather Bureau.
Next door to us lived Mrs. Graham and her daughter, Mrs. Henry K.
Davenport, the grandmother and mother respectively of Commodore
Richard G. Davenport, U.S.N. Mrs. Graham was the widow of George
Graham, who, for a time during Monroe's administration, acted as Secretary
of War. While he was serving in this capacity, his brother, John Graham,
was a member of the same cabinet, serving as Secretary of State. Mrs.
Davenport was the mother of a family of sons known familiarly to the
neighborhood as Tom, Dick and Harry. In the same block lived Mr.
Jefferson Davis, who was then in the Senate from Mississippi. I remember
hearing Mrs. Davis say that it was worth paying additional rent to live near
Mrs. Graham, as she had such an attractive personality and was such a kind
and attentive neighbor. A few doors the other side of us resided Captain and
Mrs. Henry C. Wayne, the former of whom was in the Army and was the
son of James M. Wayne of Georgia, a Justice of the Supreme Court; while
across the street was the French Legation. Next door, at the corner of G and
Eighteenth Streets, lived Edward Everett. Mr. and Mrs. Robert D.
Wainwright lived on the next block in a house now occupied by General
and Mrs. A. W. Greely. I attended the wedding of Miss Henrietta
Wainwright, soon after we arrived in Washington, to William F. Syng of the
British Legation. She was the aunt of Rear-Admiral Richard Wainwright,
U.S.N., who, as Commanding Officer of the Gloucester, rendered such
conspicuous service at the battle of Santiago. Not far away, on the corner of
Twenty-first and G Streets, lived Lieutenant Maxwell Woodhull of the Navy
and his wife; and their children still reside in the same house. On F Street,
near Twenty-first Street, was the home of Colonel William Turnbull,

U.S.A., whose wife was a sister of General George Douglas Ramsay,
U.S.A., who was so well known to all old Washingtonians. General Ramsay
was very social in his tastes, and many years before this time he and
Columbus Monroe were the groomsmen at the wedding at the White House
when John Adams, the son of John Quincy Adams, married his first cousin,
Miss Mary Hellen. General and Mrs. Ramsay lived on Twenty-first Street,
not far from his sister, Mrs. William Turnbull. Mrs. John Farley (Anna
Pearson), a half-sister of Mrs. Carlisle P. Patterson, lived on F Street, near
Twenty-first Street, and the latter's sister, Mrs. Peter Augustus Jay
(Josephine Pearson), began her matrimonial life on the northwest corner of
F and Twenty-first Streets.
William Thomas Carroll's residence on the corner of Eighteenth and F
Streets witnessed a continuous scene of hospitality. Mrs. Carroll was never
happier than when entertaining. She lived to an advanced age, and until
almost the very last, remained standing while receiving her guests. I have
heard that she retained two sets of servants, one for the daytime and the
other for the night. In her drawing-room hung many portraits of family
ancestors arrayed in the antique dress of olden times. She was a daughter of
Governor Samuel Sprigg of Maryland and was a handsome and
accomplished woman. Her four daughters, who materially assisted her in
dispensing hospitality, were very popular young women. Violetta Lansdale,
the oldest, married Dr. William Swann Mercer of the well-known Virginia
family; Sally is the present Countess Esterhazy; Carrie married the late T.
Dix Bolles of the Navy; and Alida is the wife of the late John Marshall
Brown of Portland, Maine. The Carroll house is still standing and became
the residence of the late Chief Justice Melville Fuller of the U.S. Supreme
Court. I have always heard that the Carroll house, a substantial structure
with large rooms, was built by Tench Ringgold, who was U.S. Marshal of
the District of Columbia longer than any of his predecessors. He occupied
this position during the whole of President Monroe's administration, and I
have heard it related in the Gouverneur family that, when Monroe was
retiring from office, he asked his successor, John Quincy Adams, on
personal grounds, to retain Mr. Ringgold. This request was granted and Mr.
Monroe made the same appeal to Andrew Jackson shortly after the latter's
inauguration, and received the cordial response, "Don't mention it, don't
mention it." On the strength of this interview, Ringgold naturally assumed

he was safe for another term, but, to the surprise of many, he was succeeded
two years later by Henry Ashton, who retained the office for about three
years. "Old Hickory," as everybody knows, had a mind of his own.
It was often very pleasant in my new surroundings to welcome to
Washington some of my early New York friends; and among these none
were more gladly received than Frances and Julia Kellogg of Troy. My
intimacy with these sisters goes back as far as my school days at Madame
Chegaray's, where Frances Kellogg was a boarding pupil and in a class
higher than mine when I was a day-scholar. It was the habit of these sisters
to spend their winters in Washington and their summers at West Point; and
it was during their sojourn at the latter place that Frances became engaged
to George H. Thomas of the Army who, although a Virginian by birth,
rendered such distinguished services during our Civil War as Commander
of the Army of the Cumberland. Many years after General Thomas's death,
his widow built a house on I Street, where she and Miss Kellogg presided
during the remainder of their lives. During one of our many conversations,
Mrs. Thomas told me that when her husband was informed that a house was
about to be presented to him by admiring friends, in recognition of his
conspicuous services during the Civil War, he at once declined the offer,
saying that he had been sufficiently remunerated, and requested that the
money raised for the purpose should be given in charity. A distinguished
Union General, who had already accepted a house, remonstrated with him
and said: "Thomas, if you refuse to accept that house it will make it
awkward for us." General Thomas's characteristic response was: "You may
take as many houses as you please, but I shall accept none."
At this time the house 14 Lafayette Square, now Jackson Place, still
standing but very much altered, was owned and occupied by Purser and
Mrs. Francis B. Stockton and the latter's sister, daughters of Captain James
McKnight of the Marine Corps and nieces of Commodore Stephen Decatur.
Purser Stockton once told me that he had purchased this home for seven
thousand dollars. The house prior to his ownership had been the residence
of a number of families of distinction, among others the Southards and
Monroes.
After giving up our home in New York I made a visit of some weeks to my
friends, the family of William Kemble, who was still residing on St. John's

Park in New York. While there we were invited to an old-fashioned supper
at the home of Mr. Peter Goelet, a bachelor, on the corner of Nineteenth
Street and Broadway, presided over by his sister, Mrs. Hannah Greene
Gerry. Upon the lawn of this house Mr. Goelet indulged his ornithological
tastes by a remarkable display of various species of turkeys with their
broods, together with peacocks and silver and golden pheasants. As can be
readily understood, this was a remarkable sight in the heart of a great city,
and caused much admiration from passers-by.
It has been said that at one time William W. Corcoran's father kept a shoe
store in Georgetown, and that the son, one of the most conspicuous
benefactors of the city of Washington, was very proud of the fact. I have
also heard it said, although I cannot vouch for the truth of the statement,
that the son cherished his father's business sign as one of his valued
possessions. Whether or not these allegations agree or conflict with the
explicit statement concerning his father made by William W. Corcoran
himself, is left for others to judge. The latter wrote concerning his father:
"Thomas Corcoran came to Baltimore in 1783, and entered into the service
of his uncle, William Wilson, as clerk, beginning with a salary of fifty
pounds sterling a year.... He brought his family to Georgetown and
commenced the shoe and leather business on Congress Street," etc., etc. Be
the facts as they may, a witticism of William Thomas Carroll was a bon mot
of the day many years ago in Washington. Upon being asked upon one
occasion whether he knew the elder Mr. Corcoran, he replied: "I have
known him from first to last and from last to first." Mr. Carroll for thirty-six
years was Clerk of the Supreme Court of the United States, and Chief
Justice Roger B. Taney paid him a well-earned tribute when he stated that
he was "an accomplished and faithful officer, prompt and exact in business,
and courteous in manner, and during the whole period of his judicial life
discharged the duties of his office with justice to the public and the suitors,
and to the entire satisfaction of every member of the Court."
At the period of which I am speaking, some of the clerical positions in the
various departments of the government were filled by members of families
socially prominent. Francis S. Markoe and Robert S. Chew, for example,
were clerks in the State Department, and Archibald Campbell and James
Madison Cutts held similar positions. For many years women were not
employed by the government. It is said that the first one regularly appointed

was Miss Jennie Douglas, and that she received her position through the
instrumentality of Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, at the request
of General Francis E. Spinner, Treasurer of the United States. She was
assigned to the duty of cutting and trimming treasury-notes, a task that had
hitherto been performed with shears by men. General Spinner subsequently
stated that her first day's work "settled the matter in her and in women's
favor." James Madison Cutts, at one time Second Comptroller of the
Treasury under Buchanan, married Ellen Elisabeth O'Neill, who, with her
sister Rose, subsequently Mrs. Robert Greenhow, resided in the vicinity of
Washington. Both sisters possessed much physical beauty. Madison Cutts,
as he was generally called, was a nephew of "Dolly" Madison, and his
father, Richard Cutts, was once a Member of Congress from New
Hampshire.
It is to the kindness of Mrs. Madison Cutts that I owe the memory of a
pleasant visit to Mrs. Madison. She took me to call upon her one afternoon,
and I shall never forget the impression made upon me by her turban and
long earrings. Her surroundings were of a most interesting character and her
graceful bearing and sprightly presence, even in extreme old age, have left a
lasting picture upon my memory. Her niece, "Dolly" Paine, was living with
her at her residence on the corner of H Street and Madison Place, now
forming a part of the Cosmos Club. Todd Paine, her son, unfortunately did
not prove to be a source of much satisfaction to her. He survived his mother
some years and eventually the valuable Madison manuscripts and relics
became his property. At the time of his death in Virginia this interesting
collection was brought to Washington, where, I am informed, some of it still
remains as the cherished possession of the McGuire family. Mr. and Mrs.
Madison Cutts were devotees of society and consequently they and Mrs.
Madison met upon common ground. The afternoon of my memorable visit
to this former mistress of the White House I remember meeting quite a
number of visitors in her drawing-room, as temporary sojourners at the
National Capital were often eager to meet the gracious woman who had
figured so conspicuously in the social history of the country.
I knew Madison Cutts's daughter, Rose Adele Cutts, or "Addie" Cutts, as
she was invariably called, when she first entered society. Her reputation for
beauty is well known. I always associate her with japonicas, which she
usually wore in her hair and of which her numerous bouquets were chiefly

composed. Her father frequently accompanied her to balls, and in the wee
small hours of the night, as he became weary, I have often been amused at
his summons to depart—"Addie, allons." As quite a young woman, Addie
Cutts married Stephen A. Douglas, the "Little Giant," whom Lincoln
defeated in the memorable presidential election of 1860. It is said that her
ambition to grace the White House had much to do with the disruption of
the Democratic party, as it was she who urged Douglas onward; and
everyone knows that the division of the Democratic vote between Stephen
A. Douglas and John C. Breckenridge resulted in the election of Lincoln.
Some years after Douglas's death, his widow married General Robert
Williams, U.S.A., by whom she had a number of children, one of whom is
the wife of Lieutenant Commander John B. Patton, U.S.N.
Mrs. Madison Cutts's sister, Mrs. Robert Greenhow, was a woman of
attractive appearance and unusual ability. Her husband was a Virginian by
birth and a man of decided literary tastes. When I first knew her she was a
widow, and but few romances can excel in interest one period of her career.
She was a social favorite and her house was the rendezvous of the
prominent Southern politicians of the day. This, of course, was before the
Civil War, during a portion of which she made herself conspicuous as a
Southern spy. At the commencement of the struggle her zeal for the
Southern cause became so conspicuous and offensive to the authorities in
Washington that she was arrested and imprisoned in her own house on
Sixteenth Street, near K Street. Later she was confined in the "Old Capitol
Prison." General Andrew Porter, U.S.A., whose widow still resides in
Washington and is one of my cherished friends, was Provost Marshal of the
District of Columbia at this time, and as such Mrs. Greenhow was in his
charge during her imprisonment. This duty was made so irksome to him
that, upon one occasion, he exclaimed in desperation that he preferred to
resign his position rather than to continue such an uncongenial task. It has
been stated that information conveyed by her to the Confederates
precipitated the Battle of Bull Run, which was so disastrous to the Union
Army. Her conduct, even in prison, was so aggressive that the government
officials decided she was altogether too dangerous a character to remain in
Washington. They accordingly sent her, accompanied by her young
daughter Rose, within the Southern lines, fearing that even behind prison
bars her ingenuity might devise some method of communicating with the

enemy. From the South she went to London, where she published, in 1863,
a volume entitled, "My Imprisonment and the First Years of Abolition Rule
at Washington," to which I have already referred. I have heard that this
book had quite a circulation in Great Britain, but that an attempt was made
to suppress it in the United States. The last year of the war, Mrs. Greenhow
was returning to America with considerable money acquired by the sale of
her book, which she carried with her in gold. She took passage upon a
blockade-runner which, after pursuit, succeeded in reaching the port of
Wilmington, North Carolina. She was descending from her ship into a small
boat to go on shore when she made a false step and fell into the water. Her
gold tied around her neck held her down and she was drowned. Her remains
were recovered and brought to the town hall, where they laid in state prior
to an imposing funeral service. She was regarded throughout the South as a
martyr to its cause.
Old Washingtonians who recall Mrs. Greenhow's eventful career will
associate with her, in a way, Mrs. Philip Phillips, who was also active in the
Southern cause, and whose husband represented Alabama with much ability
for one term in Congress. He subsequently remained in Washington, where
he was known as a distinguished advocate before the Supreme Court. Mrs.
Phillips's enthusiastic friendship for the South made serious trouble for
herself and family. The first year of the war, all of them were sent across the
Union lines, and went to New Orleans, where General Benjamin F. Butler
was in command. A few days after her arrival she Was brought before him
charged with "making merry" over the passing funeral of Captain George
Coleman De Kay of New York, an officer in the Union Army. When
General Butler inquired why she laughed, she replied: "Because I was in a
good humor." Unable longer to suppress his indignation, Butler exclaimed:
"If such women as you and Mrs. Greenhow are let loose, our lives are in
jeopardy." Mrs. Phillips's reply was: "We of the South hire butchers to kill
our swine." Another day a search was made in Mrs. Phillips's house for
information concerning the Confederacy which she was thought to have.
When personally searched and compelled to remove her shoes, she
suggested that it was impossible for a Northern man to get his hand inside a
Southern woman's shoe. General Butler finally ordered Mrs. Phillips to be
confined on an island near New Orleans, and placed over her a guard whose
duty it was to watch her night and day. I have often heard her give an

account of her life under these trying circumstances. She said she lived in a
large "shoe box"—whatever that meant—and that her meals were served to
her three times a day upon a tin plate. From what I have already said, it is
apparent that she was an exceedingly witty woman. One day, while walking
on the streets in Washington, she was joined by a distinguished prelate of
the Roman Catholic Church, and inquired whether he could lay aside his
cloth long enough to listen to a conundrum? Upon receiving a favorable
response, she asked: "Why is His Holiness, the Pope, like a goose?" The
reply was: "Because he sticks to his Propaganda!"
I shall always recall with pleasure a dinner party I attended at the residence
of Edward Everett. As Mrs. Everett was in very delicate health and seldom
appeared in public, Mr. Everett presided alone. The invitations were for six
o'clock, and dinner was served promptly at that hour. I was taken into the
dining-room by Mr. Philip Griffith, one of the Secretaries of the British
Legation. We had just finished our second course when, to the surprise of
everyone, a tall and gaunt gentleman was ushered into the dining-room. It
was Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia, then a member of Congress and
subsequently Vice-President of the Southern Confederacy. Mr. Everett at
once arose and shook hands with Mr. Stephens and with an imperturbable
expression of countenance motioned the butler to provide another seat at the
table. For a moment there was a slight confusion, as the other guests were
obliged to move in order to make room for the new comer; but everything
was speedily arranged and Mr. Stephens began his dinner with the third
course. No explanation was offered at the moment, but later, while we were
drinking our coffee in the drawing-room, I noticed Mr. Everett and Mr.
Stephens engaged in conversation.
A few days later, through Mr. Colin M. Ingersoll, a Representative in
Congress from Connecticut, the cause of Mr. Stephens' late appearance at
the dinner was made clear to me. It seems that Mr. Everett and the French
Minister, the Count Eugène de Sartiges, his next door neighbor, were giving
dinner parties the same evening. The dinner hour at the French Legation
was half-past six o'clock, while Mr. Everett's was half an hour earlier.
Through the mistake of a stupid coachman, Mr. Stephens was landed at the
door of Count de Sartiges's home and entered it under the impression that it
was Mr. Everett's residence. He walked into the drawing-room and
suspected nothing, as nearly all the guests were familiar to him. Count de

Sartiges, however, surprised at the presence of an unbidden guest, anxiously
inquired of Mr. Ingersoll the name of the stranger, and upon being informed
remarked: "I'll be very polite to him." Seating himself by Mr. Stephens'
side, an animated conversation followed. Meanwhile other guests arrived
and the Count de Sartiges became diverted, while Mr. Stephens, still
unconscious of his mistake, turned to Mr. Ingersoll, who stood near, and in
an irritated tone of voice said: "Who is this Frenchman who is tormenting
me, and where is Mr. Everett?" Mr. Ingersoll explained that the Frenchman
was the Count de Sartiges, and that Mr. Everett was probably presiding over
his own dinner in the adjoining house.
My vis à vis at Mr. Everett's table was Miss Ann G. Wight, a woman with
an unusual history. She was born in Montgomery County, Maryland, and as
a child was placed in a convent. She eventually became a nun and an inmate
of the Convent of the Visitation in Georgetown, where she assumed the
name of "Sister Gertrude." She was an intellectual woman and was deeply
beloved by her associates. Without any apparent cause, however, she
planned an escape from the convent and sought the residence of her
relative, General John P. Van Ness, dropping her keys, as I have understood,
in Rock Creek as she passed over the Georgetown bridge. Mrs. Charles
Worthington, a Catholic friend of mine who was educated at this same
convent, gave me the following explanation of her conduct: There was an
election for Mother Superior, and Miss Wight, deeply disappointed that she
was not chosen to fill the position, was dissatisfied and when it became her
turn to answer the front-door bell, suddenly determined to leave. She was,
however, recognized by one of the priests, who followed her to General Van
Ness's residence, where he insisted upon seeing her. At first she refused to
meet him, but, upon informing the General that he must learn from her own
lips whether her departure was voluntary, she consented to see him in the
presence of her relative. She admitted that she had in no way been
influenced. When I first met Miss Wight she was more devoted to "the
pride, pomp and circumstance" of the world than many who had not led
such deeply religious lives. She was still living at the residence of General
Van Ness, and I have heard that she always remained a Roman Catholic.
During the Everett dinner my escort, Mr. Philip Griffith, remarked to me in
an undertone: "We have an escaped nun here; are we going to have an auto

da fé?" I responded that I believed it to be a matter of record that autos da
fé were solely a courtly amusement.
Mrs. Sidney Brooks, formerly Miss Fanny Dehon of Boston, was another of
Mr. Everett's guests. She was a relative of our host, and it was her custom to
make prolonged visits to the Everett home. Her presence in Washington was
always hailed with delight. She was a pronounced blonde, and her
reputation as a brilliant conversationalist was widely extended.
Rufus Choate was an occasional visitor in Washington subsequent to his
brilliant senatorial career which ended in 1845. That I had the pleasure of
intimately knowing this man of wit and erudition is one of the brightest
memories of my life. His quaint humor was inexhaustible and some of his
bright utterances will never perish. When a younger sister of mine was
lying desperately ill in Washington in 1856 he called to inquire about her
condition, and the tones of his sympathetic voice still linger in my ear. It
has been fittingly said of Mr. Choate that even one's name uttered by him
was in itself a delicate compliment. It is to him we owe the inspiring
quotation, "Keep step to the music of the Union," which he uttered in his
speech before the Whig convention of 1855. I have heard some of Mr.
Choate's clients dwell upon his mighty power as an advocate, and it seems
to me that words of law flowing from such lips might have been suggestive
of the harmony of the universe. The chirography of Mr. Choate was equal to
any Chinese puzzle; it was even more difficult to decipher than that of
Horace Greeley. I once received a note from him and was obliged to call
upon my family to aid me in reading it. He had a fund of humor which was
universally applauded by an admiring public. Once, in replying to a toast on
Yale College at the "Hasty-Pudding" dinner, he said that "everything is to
be irregular this evening." He followed this remark by poking a little fun at
the expense of the College by reading a portion of the will of Lewis Morris,
one of the Signers and the father of Gouverneur Morris. This document was
executed in 1760 in New York, and in it he expresses his "desire that my
son, Gouverneur Morris, may have the best education that is to be had in
Europe or America, but my express will and directions are that he be never
sent for that purpose to the Colony of Connecticutt, lest he should imbibe in
his youth that low craft and cunning so incident to the People of that
Colony, which is so interwoven in their Constitutions that all their art
cannot disguise it from the World; though many of them, under the

sanctifyed garb of Religion, have endeavored to impose themselves on the
World for honest men." The laughter which followed the reading of this
extract was as regular as the remarks were irregular. It may be added that
Lewis Morris died two years after making this will, when his son
Gouverneur was between ten and eleven years of age, and that his desires
were respected, as his son was graduated from King's (now Columbia)
College in New York in 1768, when only sixteen years old. His father, cold
in the grave, had his revenge on the "Colony of Connecticutt" and the
hatchet, for aught we know to the contrary, was forever buried, while old
Elihu's college still survives in New Haven.
An anecdote relating to Gouverneur Morris still lingers in my memory.
Before his marriage, quite late in life, to Miss Anne Cary Randolph, his
nephew, Gouverneur Wilkins, was generally regarded as heir to his large
estate. When a direct heir was born, Mr. Wilkins was summoned to the
babe's christening. One of the guests began to speculate upon the name of
the youngster, when Mr. Wilkins quickly said, "Why, Cut-us-off-sky, of
course," in imitation of the usual termination of such a large number of
Russian names.
In 1852 John F. T. Crampton was British Minister to the United States and I
had the pleasure of knowing him quite well. He was a bachelor of
commanding presence, and it was rather a surprise to Washingtonians that
he evaded matrimonial capture! He lived in Georgetown in an old-time and
spacious mansion, surrounded by ample grounds. The proverbial tea-
drinking period had not arrived, but Mr. Crampton, notwithstanding this
fact, gave afternoon receptions for which his house, by the way, was
especially adapted. In 1856, during the Crimean War, an unpleasantness
arose between Great Britain and this country in connection with the charge
that Crampton had been instrumental in recruiting soldiers in the United
States for service in the British Army. Accordingly, in May of the same
year, President Pierce broke off diplomatic relations with him and he was
recalled. There was never, however, any severe reflection made upon him
by his home Ministry, and after his return to England he was made a Knight
of the Bath by Lord Palmerston, and a little later became the British
Minister at St. Petersburg. In the autumn of 1856, while in Russia, he
married Victoire Balfe, second daughter of Michael William Balfe, the
distinguished musical composer, from whom he was divorced in 1863.

I frequently attended receptions at the British Legation, and I particularly
recall those in the spring of the year when they took the form of fêtes
champêtres upon the well-kept lawn. On these occasions the Diplomatic
Corps was well represented, as well as the resident society. I have heard a
curious story about Henry Stephen Fox, the English Minister in Washington
from 1836 to 1844. He evidently represented the sporting element of his
day, as it was said he was en évidence all night and seldom visible by
daylight. He was, moreover, exceedingly careless about some of the
reasonable responsibilities of life which rendered it difficult for his creditors
to secure an audience. They, however, surrounded his house in the First
Ward one evening and demanded in clamorous tones that he should name a
definite time when he would satisfy their claims. Fox appeared at a front
window and pleasantly announced that, as they were so urgent in their
demands, he would state a time which he hoped would meet with their
satisfaction, and accordingly named in stentorian voice the "Day of
Judgment."
One of the constant visitors at our home on G Street was John Savile-
Lumley, who was appointed in 1854 as the Secretary of the British Legation
under Crampton, and in the following year became the English Chargé
d'affaires in Washington. I remember him as a fine looking gentleman and
an especially pleasing specimen of the English race. He was the natural son
of John Lumley-Savile, the eighth Earl of Scarborough, by a mother of
French origin. After leaving Washington, he represented his country in
Rome and other prominent courts of Europe, and, upon his retirement from
the diplomatic service in 1888, was raised to the peerage as Baron Savile of
Rufford in Nottinghamshire. The last I heard of him was through one of
Lord Ronald Gower's charming books of travel, where it states that he was
representing Great Britain at the court of Leopold I. in Belgium. He died in
the fall of 1896. His younger brother lived in London where, for a period,
he acted as a sort of major-domo in society, and but few entertainments
were considered complete without him.

CHAPTER X
DIPLOMATIC CORPS AND OTHER CELEBRITIES

I have already spoken of the Count de Sartiges, who so ably represented the
French Government in the United States. He had not been very long in this
country when he married Miss Anna Thorndike of Boston, and while
residing in Washington they dispensed a lavish hospitality. Just before he
came to this country, the Count spent several years in Persia, which was
then regarded as an out-of-the-way post of duty. I recall quite an amusing
incident which occurred at an entertainment given by the Countess de
Sartiges to which I was accompanied by George Newell, brother-in-law of
William L. Marcy. Mr. Newell had not been in Washington long enough to,
become acquainted with all the members of the Diplomatic Corps, and,
crossing the room to where I stood, he inquired: "Who is the Aborigine who
has been sitting next to me?" I looked in the direction indicated and
recognized the well-known person of General Juan Nepomuceno Almonte,
the Mexican Minister, whose features strongly portrayed the Indian type.
Some matrimonial alliances in Mexico at this time, by the way, were more
or less complicated; for example, General Almonte's wife was his own
niece.
The first Secretary of the French Legation was Baron Geoffrey Boilleau,
who remained in this country for several years. While stationed in
Washington, he married Susan Benton, a daughter of Thomas H. Benton,
U.S. Senator from Missouri and a political autocrat in his own State,
another of whose daughters, Jessie Ann, was the wife of General John C.
Fremont. At a later day, both Boilleau and Fremont became involved in
difficulties of a serious character in consequence of which the former, while
Minister to Ecuador, was recalled to France, where, as I am informed, he
was convicted and confined for a period in the Conciergerie. I am not fully
acquainted with the exact details of the charges upon which he was tried,
but they had their origin in the negotiation of certain bonds of the proposed
Memphis and El Paso Railroad. In my opinion, however, no one who knew
Baron Boilleau well ever doubted his integrity. He was a man of decidedly

literary tastes and, like many persons of that character, possessed but
meager knowledge of business. It seems that General Fremont had obtained
from the Legislature of Texas a grant of state lands in the interests of the
railroad just referred to, which was to be a portion of a projected
transcontinental line from Norfolk, Virginia, to San Diego and San
Francisco. It has been stated that "the French agents employed to place the
land-grant bonds of this road on the market made the false declaration that
they were guaranteed by the United States. In 1869 the Senate passed a bill
giving Fremont's road the right of way through the territories, an attempt to
defeat it by fixing on him the onus of the misstatement in Paris having been
unsuccessful. In 1873 he was prosecuted by the French government for
fraud in connection with this misstatement. He did not appear in person,
and was sentenced by default to fine and imprisonment, no judgment being
given on the merits of the case."
Prince Louis de Bearn, Secretary of the French Legation, was a gentleman
of most pleasing personality. He was a strikingly handsome bachelor at the
time I knew him and was much seen in the gay world. He was never called
"Prince" in those days, but "Count"; but in a letter now before me, written
in 1904 by his son, who was recently an attaché of the French Embassy in
Washington, he claims that both his father and grandfather were Princes by
right of birth. He also states that the title was borne by his family before the
Revolution of 1789. During his official life in Washington, Prince de Bearn
married Miss Beatrice Winans, daughter of Ross Winans of Baltimore.
Chevalier John George Hulsemann, the Austrian Minister, was a convivial
old bachelor and was much esteemed at the Capital for his genial qualities.
He lived on F Street, below Pennsylvania Avenue, and was stationed in
Washington for many years.
Chevalier Giuseppe Bertinatti, the Italian Minister, commenced his
diplomatic career in Washington as a bachelor. He did not occupy a house
of his own, but lodged at the establishment of Mrs. Ulrich, which was the
headquarters of many foreigners. Fifty years ago and more, the members of
the Diplomatic Corps, with few exceptions, lived either in modest
residences or in boarding houses, in striking contrast with many of the
imposing mansions now occupied by the official representatives of foreign
lands. His mission was a diplomatic success and while at the capital he
married Mrs. Eugénie Bass, a handsome widow from Mississippi, and soon

departed upon another mission, taking his American bride with him. Soon
after the announcement of his prospective marriage, Count Bertinatti issued
invitations to a large dinner given in honor of his fiancée. When the gala
day arrived, Mrs. Bass, though quite indisposed, was persuaded to be
present at the dinner, but, feeling decidedly ill, she retired from the table
and in a short time became much nauseated. When this state of affairs was
explained to General George Douglas Ramsay, one of the guests of the
evening, his quick sally was, "a Bass relief!"
Baron Frederick Charles Joseph von Gerolt, whom I knew very well and
who represented King William of Prussia, is still affectionately recalled by
his few survivors who cling to early associations. His departure from
Washington with his family was more deeply regretted than that of some
other foreign residents whom I remember, as they had made many friends
and had lived in Washington so long that they were regarded almost as
permanent residents. The Misses Bertha and Dorothea von Gerolt were
graceful dancers and were very popular. Dorothea married into the
Diplomatic Corps and accompanied her husband to Greece. I have heard
that Bertha became deeply attached to the Chevalier A. P. C. Van
Karnabeek, secretary of the Netherlands Legation, but that, owing to
religious considerations, her parents frowned upon the alliance. She
accordingly determined to enter upon a cloistered life and went to the
Georgetown convent where she became a nun, and was known until the day
of her death in 1890 as "Sister Angela." Baron von Gerolt was an
intellectual man and, prior to his career in the United States, his name was
much associated with Baron Alexander von Humboldt; but as neither he nor
Madame von Gerolt were proficient English scholars when they first
arrived they naturally depended upon others for instruction. I can vouch for
the truth of the statement that upon one occasion they were advised by
members of his own legation to greet those whom they met with the words,
"I'm damned glad to see you."
Mr. Alfred Bergmans, Secretary of the Belgian Legation, married Lily
Macalister, a Philadelphia heiress, who, in her widowhood, returned to this
country and made Washington her home. Madame Bergmans was a devotee
to society and was particularly fond of dancing. She was a petite blonde,
and, even after it ceased to be fashion, she wore her light hair down her
back in many ringlets. When George M. Robeson, President Grant's

Secretary of the Navy, saw her for the first time one evening while she was
dancing, he exclaimed, "That is the tripping of the light fantastic toe." She
married quite late in life J. Scott Laughton, who was considerably her
junior, but did not long survive the alliance.
Many members of the Diplomatic Corps of this period married American
women. Baron Guido von Grabow, one of the secretaries of the Prussian
Legation whom I knew very well, married Mrs. Edward Boyce, whose
maiden name was Nina Wood. She was a granddaughter of President
Zachary Taylor and was well known and beloved by old Washingtonians.
Her marriage to Baron von Grabow offers strong encouragement to
persistent suitors. He was deeply in love with her prior to her first marriage,
but she rejected him for Edward Boyce, who was a member of a prominent
Georgetown family. Mr. Boyce lived only a few years, and her subsequent
married life with Baron von Grabow was long and happy.
Alexandre Gau, Chancelier of the Prussian Legation, married my younger
sister, Margaret, who was regarded as a remarkable beauty as well as an
accomplished linguist and pianist. Her wedding took place in our G Street
home in the same room where five months later her funeral services were
held. Mr. Gau did not long survive her and was interred by her side in my
father's old burial plot in Jamaica, Long Island.
Don Calderon de la Barca, the Spanish Minister to the United States,
together with his wife, who was Miss Fanny Inglis, and her sister, Miss
Lydia Inglis, were presiding social spirits in Washington for many years.
The latter married a Mr. McLeod, and, becoming financially embarrassed,
established on Staten Island a school for girls which was ably conducted.
These sisters were members of a Scotch family of distinguished lineage.
One of Mrs. McLeod's pupils was Mary E. Croghan, a prominent heiress
from Pittsburgh. She was still attending school on Staten Island when
Captain Edward W. H. Schenley of the Royal Navy, a Scotch relative of
Mrs. McLeod, came to America to visit her. In inviting him to be her guest
she felt that, as he was an elderly man, he would prove to be quite immune
to the attractions of mere school girls. I met Captain Schenley about this
same time in New York, and his "make up" was of such a remarkable
character that it was a favorite on dit that, when he was dressed for
standing, a sitting posture was quite an impossibility. Young Miss Croghan

must have discovered fascinations in this Scotchman as she eloped with him
from Mrs. McLeod's school and after a brief period accompanied him to
England, where she spent the remainder of her life. Mrs. McLeod was
severely criticised by her patrons for carelessness, and her school was
somewhat injured by Miss Croghan's matrimonial adventure.
Don Leopoldo Augusto De Cueto was another Spanish Minister, whom I
regarded as an agreeable acquaintance. During his régime filibustering
against Spanish possessions, and especially Cuba, was a favorite pastime of
American citizens and rendered the position of the Spanish Minister in
Washington one of delicacy and difficulty. Residing in Washington during
De Cueto's tenure of office was a Cuban named Ambrosio José Gonzales,
who, in the Civil War, became Inspector General of Artillery in the
Confederate Army, under General Beauregard. As he was well versed in
music and had a remarkable voice, he frequently, upon request, sang
selections from the popular operas then in vogue. Among the songs
frequently heard in drawing-rooms was "Suoni la Tromba," from Bellini's
opera "I Puritani di Scozia," which had been interdicted by the Spanish
Government. One evening when De Cueto was spending an informal
evening with my sisters and myself at our G Street home, Mr. Gonzales
happened to call and was asked to sing. He seated himself at the piano and
for sometime sang various airs for us. Finally, not knowing that "Suoni la
Tromba" was under the Spanish ban, I asked him to sing it. During the song
De Cueto was politely attentive, and at its conclusion had the politeness to
applaud it. Imagine, however, my surprise when I heard a few days later,
through a mutual friend, that Gonzales had boasted that he sang the song in
De Cueto's presence, proudly adding that he had looked the Spaniard full in
the eye when he uttered the word libertă.
Mr. José de Marcoleta, the Nicaraguan Minister to the United States, was an
elderly and punctilious Spaniard. He was indefatigable in the observance of
all social duties, and I met him wherever I went. He was a bachelor but,
soon after his arrival in Washington, announced his engagement to Miss
Mary West of Boston, who unfortunately died before her wedding day. I am
under the impression that he eventually married another American. I
remember once when he called to see us I asked him to tell me something
about Nicaragua, which was then an almost unknown country. My surprise

can hardly be described when he told me he had never seen the country
which he represented, but was a native of Spain.
Baron Waldemar Rudolph Raasloff represented Denmark in a manner
creditable both to his country and our own. He told me that some years
previous to his mission to America he came to New York in the capacity of
an engineer and was engaged on work in New York harbor, "blowing up
rocks." Possibly he was thus employed at "Hell Gate," at that time one of
the most dangerous obstacles to navigation in that vicinity.
The well-known "Octagon," as the old Tayloe home on the corner of New
York Avenue and Eighteenth Street is still called, during my early residence
in Washington was closed. Many superstitious persons regarded it with fear,
as its reputation as a haunted house was then, in their opinion, well
established. I have been told by the daughters of General George D.
Ramsay that upon one occasion their father was requested by Colonel John
Tayloe, the father of Benjamin Ogle Tayloe, to remain at the Octagon over
night, when he was obliged to be absent, as a protection to his daughters,
Anne and Virginia. While the members of the family were at the evening
meal, the bells in the house began to ring violently. General Ramsay
immediately arose from the table to investigate, but failed to unravel the
mystery. The butler, in a state of great alarm, rushed into the dining-room
and declared that it was the work of an unseen hand. As they continued to
ring, General Ramsay held the rope which controlled the bells, but, it is
said, they were not silenced. The architect of the Octagon was Dr. William
Thornton, of the West Indies, who designed the plans of the first capitol in
Washington and who was the controlling spirit of the three Commissioners
appointed by Congress to acquire a "territory not exceeding ten miles
square" for the establishment of a permanent seat of government. These
men were Daniel Carroll, Thomas Johnson, first Governor of the State of
Maryland, and David Stuart. Most of this land, which included Georgetown
and Alexandria, was primeval forest and was owned chiefly by Daniel
Carroll, Notley Young, Samuel Davidson and David Burns.
The Commissioners had great difficulty in dealing with Burns, who owned
nearly all of what is now the northwestern section of the city, as he was a
closefisted and hardheaded Scotchman, who was unwilling to part with his
lands without being roundly paid for them. When argument with him

proved fruitless, it is said that General Washington, realizing the gravity of
the situation, rode up several times from Mount Vernon to discuss the
situation with "stubborn Mr. Burns." At length, in despair, he remarked:
"Had not the Federal City been laid out here, you would have died a poor
planter." "Ay, mon," was Burns's ready response, "and had you no married
the widder Custis wi' a' her nagres ye'd ha'e been a land surveyor the noo',
an' a mighty poor ane at that!" It is further related that Washington finally
succeeded in winning Burns over to his way of thinking, and that the canny
Scotchman, realizing how largely he was to profit by the transaction,
actually became generous and gave to the Commissioners, in fee simple, his
apple orchard which is now the beautiful Lafayette Square.
In passing through Lafayette Square, I have often sat down upon a bench to
rest near the "wishing tree," a dwarf chestnut so well known to residents of
the District, and I have been impressed by the many superstitious persons,
both men and women, who have stopped for a moment and silently stood
under its branches. Many are the credulous believers in its power to satisfy
human desires, and the season when its branches are full of nuts is regarded
by these as a specially propitious time for their realization. With many
persons this tree is the basis of their only superstition.
I remember the case of a young girl who had been working very hard to
obtain a position in one of the departments but without success and who,
thoroughly discouraged, came to the tree early one morning and made the
wish that to her and her family meant the actual necessities of life. She then
sat down to rest upon a near-by bench before going home, and while there
became engaged in conversation with a pleasing looking woman, to whom
she poured forth her heart as she related her hopes and disappointments
about obtaining a government position. As her listener was a sympathetic
person, she asked the young woman her name and address, and in a few
days the poor girl received a notice to go to a certain department for
examination. It seems that her companion under the tree was the wife of an
influential Senator, who was so touched by the young woman's efforts, as
well as by her childish faith in the "wishing tree," that she took pleasure in
seeing that her great desire was gratified.
At this time Washington was not far behind other large cities in games of
chance, and gambling was frequently indulged in quite openly. Edward

Pendleton's resort, a luxurious establishment down town, was regarded as
quite à la mode, and I have heard it said that he had able assistance from
social ranks. I have often wondered why a man who indulged in this sport
was called a gambler, as the term "gamester," used many years ago, seems
decidedly more appropriate. I own two volumes of a very old book,
published in the eighteenth century, entitled "The Gamesters," in which the
heroes are professional gamblers. I have seen Mrs. Pendleton's costly
equipage, drawn by horses with brilliant trappings and followed by blooded
hounds, coursing the length of Pennsylvania Avenue, while its owner
seemed entirely unconscious of the aching hearts which had contributed to
all her grandeur. Cards were universally played in private homes and whist
was the fashionable game, General Scott being one of its chief devotees. I
have often thought how much the old General would have enjoyed "bridge,"
as there was nothing that gave him more pleasure than playing the "dummy
hand."
My old friend, Mrs. Diana Bullitt Kearny, the widow of General "Phil"
Kearny, in our many chats in her latter days, gave me many reminiscences
of Washington at a time when I was not residing there. She described a
fancy-dress ball given by her while residing in the old Porter house on H
Street, which must have been about 1848, as General Kearny had just
returned from the Mexican War. She dwelt particularly upon the costume of
Emma Meredith, one of her guests and the daughter of Jonathan Meredith
of Baltimore, who came to Washington to attend the party. She represented
a rainbow and her appearance was so gorgeous that Mrs. Kearny said the
Heavenly vision seemed almost within the grasp of common mortals. Miss
Meredith's supremacy as a belle has never been eclipsed. I recall a painful
incident connected with her life. A young naval officer was deeply in love
with her and, it is said, was under the impression that she intended to marry
him. At a theater party one evening he discovered his mistake and, taking
the affair to heart, returned to his quarters and the same evening swallowed
a dose of corrosive sublimate. Physicians were immediately summoned and,
although he regretted the act and expressed a desire to live, they were
unable to save him. It is said that about the same time Miss Meredith left
her home in Baltimore to visit her sister, Mrs. Gardiner G. Howland, whose
husband was one of the merchant princes of New York, and that, as she
crossed the Jersey City Ferry, one of the first objects which met her eyes

was the funeral cortege of her disappointed lover en route to his final
resting place. Subsequent to this tragedy, I met Miss Meredith in Saratoga,
surrounded by the usual admiring throng. She never married. I heard of her
in recent years, at a summer resort near Baltimore, and, although advanced
in years, I understood she still possessed exceptional powers of attraction.
Only a short time ago I heard a young man remark that he knew her very
well and that he would rather converse with her than with women many
years her junior.
Mrs. Kearny was said to be the last of the "Lafayette girls." In 1825, when
Lafayette made his memorable visit to the United States as the guest of the
nation, she was living with her parents in Louisville, and at the tender age
of five strewed flowers in the pathway of the distinguished Frenchman. She
remembered the incident perfectly and in our numerous conversations I
have repeatedly heard her allude to it. She told me that, seated at General
Lafayette's side in the carriage which conveyed him through the city, was
the great-uncle, Colonel Richard C. Anderson, who led the advance of the
American troops at the Battle of Trenton. General Robert Anderson, U.S.A.,
whose memory the country honors as the defender of Fort Sumpter, was his
son. The General's widow, a daughter of General Duncan L. Clinch, U.S.A.,
resided in Washington until her death a few years ago. She was a woman of
rare intelligence and, although a great invalid for many years, gathered
around her an appreciative circle of friends, who were always charmed by
her attractive personality.
In my earliest recollection of Washington the old Van Ness house was still
sheltered by many trees. The foliage was so dense that it may have been the
desire of the occupants to shield themselves in this manner from public
view. When I first knew the landmark it was occupied by Thomas Green, an
old-time resident of the District. He married, as his second wife, Ann
Corbin Lomax, a daughter of Major Mann Page Lomax of the Ordnance
Department of the Army. During the Civil War, Mr. Green's sympathies
were with the South, but he took no active part in the conflict. One of his
idiosyncrasies was to pick up, on and around his spacious grounds, scraps
of old iron, such as horse shoes, hay rakes and the like, which were placed
in a corner of his capacious cellar. Suspicion was centered upon his house
by information given to the government by an old family servant who
thought he was doing the country a service, and directions were accordingly

given that it should be searched. While this order was in process of
execution, the discovery of the scrap-iron is said to have played an
important part and in some unaccountable manner to have aroused further
suspicion. Whatever the logic of the situation may have been is not
intelligible, but the fact remains I that Mr. and Mrs. Green and the latter's
sister, Miss Virginia Lomax, were arrested in a summary manner and taken
to the Old Capital Prison, where for a time they were kept in close
confinement, during which Miss Lomax suffered severe indisposition and,
as is said, never entirely recovered from the effects of her incarceration.
About twenty-five years after the War, while staying at the same house with
her in Warrenton, Virginia, I quite longed to hear her reminiscences of
prison life; but when I expressed my desire to a member of her family, I
was requested not to broach the subject as, even at this late day, it was
painful to her as a topic of conversation.
During the War of 1812, Major Lomax was sent upon a mission to Canada
by the U.S. Government and, one day during his brief sojourn, dined in
company with some British officers. During the dinner a toast was offered
by one of the sons of John Bull: "To President Madison, dead or alive." The
responding toast by Major Lomax was: "To the Prince Regent, drunk or
sober." The British officer who had proposed the toast to Madison
immediately sprang to his feet and with much indignation inquired: "Do
you mean to insult me, sir?" The quick rejoinder was: "I am responding to
an insult!"
I met Charles Sumner soon after his first appearance in the United States
Senate as the successor of Daniel Webster, who had become Secretary of
State. He was a man of striking appearance and bore himself with the
dignity so characteristic of the statesmen of that period. "Sumner is one of
them literary fellows," was the facetious criticism of the Hon. Zachariah
Chandler of Michigan, who a few years later became one of his colleagues
in the Senate, and who in earlier life was accumulating a large fortune while
Mr. Sumner, in his Massachusetts home, was engaged in those intellectual
and scholarly pursuits which eventually made him one of the ripest and
most accomplished students in the land. Chandler, however, in his own way,
furnished a conspicuous example to aspiring youths of the day, both by his
earlier and subsequent life, of what may be accomplished by determined
application.

For a decade or more preceding the Civil War the political sentiment of
Washington, especially in reference to the violent anti-slavery agitation then
engrossing the thought of the country, was decidedly in sympathy with the
attitude of the South. It is not, therefore, surprising that Sumner, whose
radical views were known from Maine to Texas, should have been received
at first in Washington society with but little cordiality. As the years passed
along, he was rapidly forging himself ahead to the leadership of his party in
the Senate and, of course, became strongly inimical to Buchanan's
administration. He was regarded with confidence and esteem by his own
party, and, although naturally both disliked and feared by his political
opponents, it could be truthfully said of him that he was

A man that fortune's buffets and rewards
Hast ta'en with equal thanks,

and that no attempts to socially ostracize or to deride him for his political
views and his intense application to his sense of duty deterred the great
Massachusetts statesman from pursuing the "even tenor of his way."
An anecdote went the rounds of the Capital to the effect that, one morning
when a gentleman called to see Sumner at his rooms on Pennsylvania
Avenue, a colored attendant answered the door and after glancing at his
card informed him that it would be impossible to disturb his master, as he
was rehearsing before a looking-glass a speech which he expected to deliver
the following morning. Whether this was originally told by a friend or foe
of Mr. Sumner is not known. Mr. Sumner once requested me to take him to
see a young Washington belle who combined Parisian grace with Kentucky
dash. I refer to Miss Sally Strother, an acknowledged beauty of decidedly
Southern views, who lived on Seventh Street near F Street, now a
commercial center. Mr. Sumner and I walked to her house from my home
on G Street and found several guests in her drawing-room, where the topic
of conversation, in the course of the evening, drifted to the subject of
spiritualism. It was announced that at a recent séance the spirit of
Washington had appeared and uttered the usual platitudes, whereupon Miss
Strother, without a moment's hesitation, remarked: "I wonder what General
Washington would say about Mr. Sumner?" Someone undertook to define
Washington's views, but Miss Strother interrupted and said: "I know just
what he would say—that he was a very intelligent, a very handsome, but a
very bad man." This remark was naturally productive of much mirth, but
failed to arouse any manifestation of feeling or disapprobation on the part
of Mr. Sumner. Later, as we were walking homeward he remarked: "I have
l'esprit d'escalier and my retorts do not come until I am well-nigh down the
flight of stairs." Sally Strother went abroad, where she married Baron
Fahnenberg of Belgium, and shared a fate similar to that of many of her
country-women, as she was finally separated from her husband. She
cherished, however, a pride of title and bequeathed $60,000 to erect in Spa,
Belgium, a handsome chapel as well as a vault to contain the remains of her
mother, brother and herself. Her Kentucky relatives, however, including the
family of Mrs. Basil Duke, succeeded in breaking the will on the ground

that her mother's will, through which she had inherited her property, did not
permit it to leave the family. The chapel and vault, accordingly, were not
built, and all her property reverted to her relatives.
In addition to his commanding presence, nature bestowed upon Mr. Sumner
a clear and melodious voice, which rendered it quite unnecessary for him to
resort to Demosthenic methods of cultivation. For many years his inspiring
words could be heard upon the floor of the Senate in all of the leading
debates of the day, and his masterly orations will go down to posterity as an
important contribution to the history of many national administrations.
I well remember Preston S. Brooks's cowardly assault upon Charles Sumner
in the Senate Chamber in the spring of 1856. Public indignation ran very
high, and his political opponents referred to him thereafter as "Bully
Brooks." Socially, as well as politically, he was popular. He possessed a
gentle and pleasing bearing and it would have been difficult for anyone to
associate him with such a cruel outrage. His uncle, Andrew P. Butler, who
was in the U.S. Senate from South Carolina at the same time, was a fine-
looking and venerable gentleman, but he was one of the class then
designated as "fire-eaters."
There existed between Mr. Sumner and Henry W. Longfellow a strong
friendship which was contracted in early life. I have often heard the
Massachusetts statesman recite some of his friend's poetical lines, which
seemed to me additionally beautiful when rendered in his deep and
sonorous voice. In the latter years of his life he resided in the house which
is now the Arlington Hotel Annex, where he surrounded himself with his
remarkable collection of books and articles of virtu which he exhibited with
pride to his guests. I especially recall an old clock presented to him by
Henry Sanford, Minister to Belgium, as an artistic work of exceptional
beauty. Mr. Sumner, by the way, was an accomplished connoisseur in art. I
have heard him strongly denounce Clark Mills's equestrian statue of
General Andrew Jackson, now standing in the center of Lafayette Square.
He told me that on one occasion he was conducting a party of Englishmen
through the streets of the National Capital and, as they were driving along
Pennsylvania Avenue, he seated himself in such a position as to entirely
obstruct the view of what he called this "grotesque statue," calling the

attention of his guests, meanwhile, to the White House on the other side of
the street.
I felt honored in calling Charles Sumner my friend, and I take especial
pleasure in repeating the encomium that "to the wisdom of the statesman
and the learning of the scholar he joined the consecration of a patriot, the
honor of a knight and the sincerity of a Christian." George Sumner, his
brother, did not appear in the land of his birth as a celebrity, but he had a
remarkable career abroad. He hobnobbed with royalty throughout the
European continent and was highly regarded for his profound learning. He
studied at the Universities of Heidelberg and Berlin and traveled
extensively through Europe, Asia and Africa. He never tarried long in his
"native heath," and furnished conspicuous evidence that "a prophet is not
without honor save in his own country." Alexander von Humboldt praised
the accuracy of his researches and Alexis de Tocqueville referred to him as
being better acquainted with European politics than any European with
whom he was acquainted.
While Sumner was in the Senate, George T. Davis of Greenfield,
Massachusetts, was a member of the House of Representatives. I knew him
very well and he was a constant visitor at our home. He was celebrated for
his flashes of wit, which sometimes stimulated undeveloped powers in
others, and I have often seen dull perceptions considerably sharpened at his
approach. Oliver Wendell Holmes speaks of his witty sayings in the
"Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," and his conversational powers were so
brilliant that they won the admiration of Thackeray. Robert Rantoul, also
from Massachusetts, and a colleague of Davis, was a "Webster Whig" and a
powerful exponent of the "Free-Soil" faith. Davis, who was so bright and
clever in the drawing-room, could not, however, compete with Rantoul on
the floor of the House in parliamentary debate. The epitaph on Rantoul's
monument says that "He died at his post in Congress, and his last words
were a protest in the name of Democracy against the Fugitive-Slave Law."
One of the verses of Whittier's poem, entitled "Rantoul," reads as follows:
—

Through him we hoped to speak the word
Which wins the freedom of a land;
And lift, for human right, the sword

Which dropped from Hampden's dying hand.
I first met the eccentric Count Adam Gurowski at the convivial tea table of
Miss Emily Harper in Newport, upon one of those balmy summer evenings
so indelibly impressed upon my memory. He was, perhaps, in many
respects, one of the most remarkable characters that Washington has ever
known. He was a son of Count Ladislas Gurowski, an ardent admirer of
Kosciusko, and was active in revolutionary projects in Poland in
consequence of which he was condemned to death by the Russian
authorities. He managed, however, to escape and in 1835 published a work
entitled "La Verité sur la Russie," in which he advocated a union of the
various branches of the Slavic race. This book was so favorably regarded in
Russia that its author was recalled and employed in the civil service. He
came to this country in 1849, and, after being employed on the staff of The
New York Tribune, came to Washington, where his linguistic attainments
and the aid of Charles Sumner secured for him a position as translator in the
State Department, which he held from 1861 to 1863.
The Count was a medley of strange whims and idiosyncrasies that almost
baffle description. Together with his strong individuality, he possessed a
trait which made many enemies and ultimately proved his undoing. I refer
to his uncontrollable desire to contradict and to antagonize. It was simply
impossible to find a subject upon which he and anyone else could agree.
There were, however, extenuating circumstances. "Chill penury," forced
upon him by the state of his financial affairs, had much to do with his
cynical and acrimonious spirit. Prosperity is certainly conducive to an
amiable bearing, and I believe that Gurowski would have been more
conciliatory if adversity had not so persistently attended his pathway. It is
highly probable, too, that Gurowski would have retained his position under
the government indefinitely but for his unfortunate disposition. He wrote a
diary from 1861 to 1863 which he was so indiscreet as to keep in his desk
in the State Department; and, unknown at first to him, some of its pages
were brought to the attention of certain officials of the government. They
contained anything but complimentary references to his chief, William H.
Seward, Secretary of State, and he was discharged. Meanwhile he had
antagonized his benefactor, Mr. Sumner, by opposing, in a caustic manner,
his views in reference to the conduct of the Civil War, and by other similar
indiscretions was making new enemies almost every day.

The intense bitterness and intemperance of Gurowski in the expression of
his views is well illustrated in a conversation quoted by one of his friends in
The Atlantic Monthly more than forty years ago. It had reference to a period
preceding the Civil War when the "Fugitive-Slave Law" was engrossing the
attention of the country. "What do I care for Mr. Webster," he said. "I can
read the Constitution as well as Mr. Webster." "But surely, Count, you
would not presume to dispute Mr. Webster's opinion on a question of
constitutional law?" "And why not? I tell you I can read the Constitution as
well as Mr. Webster, and I say that the 'Fugitive-Slave Law' is
unconstitutional—is an outrage, and an imposition of which you will all
soon be ashamed. It is a disgrace to your humanity and to your
republicanism, and Mr. Webster should be hung for advocating it. He is a
humbug or an ass—an ass, if he believes such an infamous law to be
constitutional, and if he does not believe it, he is a humbug and a scoundrel
for advocating it."
The Count's sarcastic reference to Secretary Seward is equally amusing. It
seems that one of his duties, while in the State Department, was to keep a
close watch upon the European newspapers for matters of interest to our
government, and also to furnish the Secretary of State, when requested,
with opinions on diplomatic questions, or, as Gurowski expressed it, "to
read the German newspapers and keep Seward from making a fool of
himself." The first duty, he said, was easy enough, but the latter was rather
difficult!
In 1854 Gurowski published his book, "Russia as it is," which was soon
followed by another work entitled, "America and Europe." Both of them
met with a favorable reception, but, after losing his government position, it
became a difficult matter for him to eke out a maintenance, and his
disposition, if possible, became still more embittered. At an evening party I
took part by chance in an animated discussion upon the subject of dueling.
Suddenly my eye lighted upon Count Gurowski, who had just entered the
room. Calling him to my side I asked him in facetious tones how many men
he had killed. He quickly responded, "Wonly (only) two!"
Count Gurowski's fund of knowledge was in many ways highly remarkable,
especially upon his favorite theme of royalty and nobility, past and present.
He was intensely disliked by the Diplomatic Corps in Washington, many of

whose members regarded him as a Russian spy, a suspicion which, of
course, was without the slightest foundation. Baron Waldemar Rudolph
Raasloff, the Danish Minister, once refused to enter a box at the opera
where I was seated because Gurowski was one of the party. The Count
seemed to be in touch with sources of information relating to diplomats and
their affairs which were unknown to others—a fact which naturally aroused
dislike and jealousy. He once announced to me, for example, that the
attachés of the French Legation were in a state of great good humor, as their
salaries had been raised that day. I once heard a member of a foreign
legation say to another: "Gurowski is an emanation of the Devil." "The
Devil, you say," was the response, "why, he is the Devil himself." In
discussing with a foreigner the Count's exile by the Russian government, I
said that I knew of relatives of his in high position in Russia. Evidently
controlled by his prejudices, he replied: "It must be a family of contrasts, as
his position in this country is certainly a low one." If he intended to convey
the impression that the Count was "low" in his pocket, his statement was
certainly correct, but not otherwise. It is true that his unhappy disposition
made him more enemies than friends, but he was by no means devoid of
admirable traits, even if he so frequently preferred to conceal them. The
finer side of his nature and his pleasing qualities only were presented to my
sister, Mrs. Eames, who always welcomed him to her house. One day when
he called the condition of his health seemed so precarious that she insisted
upon his becoming her guest. He accepted the invitation, but did not long
survive, and in the spring of 1866 his turbulent spirit passed away while
under my sister's roof. Much respect was paid to his memory and the most
distinguished men and women in Washington attended his funeral. He is
buried in the Congressional Cemetery, where a crested tablet surmounts his
grave. Little was generally known of his immediate family relations, but
Robert Carter, one of his most intimate friends and the author of the article
in The Atlantic Monthly, already referred to, states that he was a widower
and had a son in the Russian Navy and a married daughter in Switzerland.
Early in life his brother, Count Ignatius Gurowski, met the Infanta Isabella
de Bourbon, sister of the Prince Consort of Spain, while she was receiving
her education at the Sacre Coeur in Paris, and eloped with her. They were
pensioned by the Spanish government for a while under Queen Isabella's
reign and made their home in Brussels. I have heard, however, that when

Isabella was forced from the throne the pension ceased and their
circumstances became quite reduced. It is said that the Prince Consort,
Ignatius Gurowski's brother-in-law, suggested to him soon after his
marriage that it might be well for him to be created a Duke of the realm.
This friendly offer was declined with indignation. "I would prefer," said
Gurowski, "being an old Count to a new Duke!"
Sometime ago I saw the statement in a newspaper to the effect that
descendants of Ignatius Gurowski were living in the United States. This
suggests, although remotely, the inquiry heard many years ago: "Have we a
Bourbon among us?"—referring, of course, to the last Dauphin, whom
many believed to exist in the person of the Rev. Eleazer Williams, who
resided in St. Lawrence County, New York. The Rev. Dr. Francis L. Hawks
had such an abiding faith that Williams was actually the Dauphin that he
wrote an article in 1853 for Putnam's Magazine expressive of his views. If
the newspaper story and Dr. Hawks's claims be true, this country has
accordingly been the retreat of more than one member of the ill-fated
Bourbon family. Several years ago I was surprised to hear it stated that the
father of Kuroki, the famous Japanese General, was a brother of Adam and
Ignatius Gurowski. This information, I am informed, came from a nephew
of General Kuroki who was receiving his education in Europe. "My uncle
Kuroki," he is said to have written, "is of Polish origin. His father was a
Polish nobleman by the name of Kourowski, who fled from Russia after the
Revolution of 1831. He finally went to Japan and married a Japanese. As
the name of Kourowski is difficult to pronounce in Japanese, my uncle
pronounced it Kuroki. The General's father, upon his death bed said to him
that perhaps some day he would be able to take vengeance upon the
Russians for their cruel treatment of unhappy Poland."
One of the most notable men of my acquaintance in Washington was Caleb
Cushing. I first met him when he was Attorney-General in President
Pierce's Cabinet, and the friendship formed at that time lasted for many
years. He was among the guests at my wedding, and Miss Emily Harper,
whom he accompanied, told me that he especially commented upon that
portion of the service which reads, "those whom God hath joined together,
let no man put asunder." His remarks evidently appealed to her as an ardent
Roman Catholic. Ralph Waldo Emerson declared Mr. Cushing to be the
most eminent scholar of the country, and Wendell Phillips went still further

and said: "I regard Mr. Cushing as the most learned man living." His habit
was one of constant acquirement. He was what I should call "a Northern
man with Southern principles," an expression which originated in 1835, and
was first applied to Martin Van Buren. I have heard Cushing defend slavery
with great eloquence and although, like him, I was born and bred in the
North, I regarded that institution, in some respects, as far less iniquitous
than the infamous opium trade which so enriched British and American
merchants, and of which I saw so much during my life in China.
It must have been from his Pilgrim forefather that Mr. Cushing inherited a
decided antipathy for Great Britain, and it was once said that he carried this
prejudice so far that he refused to visit England. This statement, however, is
untrue, as I have before me an amusing article, written many years ago by
his private secretary, during his mission to Spain, which contradicts it. He
gives some amusing incidents connected with his visit of a few days in
London when he and Mr. Cushing were en route to Spain. "Mr. Cushing's
headwear," he writes, "was a silk hat which must have been the fashion of
about the time he discarded umbrellas. It was slightly pointed at the top and
there was, so to say, no back or front to it and there was no band for it. As I
knew he intended paying several visits, I asked him if he would not
exchange his hat, which at the time was thoroughly soaked, for a new and
lighter one. The old man took off his ancient hat, examined it critically and
then said slowly and deliberately, as if delivering an opinion on the bench,
'No, sir, I think that I shall wait and see what the fashions are in Madrid.' It
was said with much earnestness, as if it had been a state question. A third
person would have found it irresistibly funny, but there was nothing
laughable in it to General Cushing. In fact, his sense of humor was of a very
grim order." He also writes: "The old man was an inveterate smoker, and
yet, during the whole period of my intercourse with him, I did not see him
light a score of fresh cigars. He bought them, that is certain, but he must
have been averse to lighting them in public for he almost invariably had a
stump between his lips. Ask him if he would have a cigar and the answer
would be, 'Thank you, sir, I think I have one,' and out would come a
dilapidated case, from which he would shake from one to half a dozen butts
as the supply ran."
While Cushing was Attorney-General under President Pierce, he formed a
friendship with Madame Calderon de la Barca, of whom I have already

spoken, who, upon his arrival in Madrid, was one of the first persons to
greet him. She was then a widow and occupied a high social position at the
Spanish court. Cushing and she thoroughly enjoyed the renewal of their
earlier friendship in Washington, and the last visit he made in Madrid was
when he bade her a final farewell. In 1843, and prior to his mission to
Spain, Mr. Cushing was appointed by President Tyler Minister to China,
where his able diplomacy has been the subject of recognition and
admiration to this day. He carried with him the following remarkable letter
which he was charged by the President to deliver in person to the Emperor.
It may have been—who knows?—the first lesson in occidental geography
submitted to the "Brother of the Sun and the Sister of the Moon and Stars."
Had the President of the United States been called upon to address a
country Sunday School, he could hardly have exhibited a more conscious
effort to adapt himself to the level of his hearers. This is the letter:—
I, John Tyler, President of the United States of America—which
states are Maine, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island,
Connecticut, Vermont, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania,
Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina,
Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, Louisiana, Indiana,
Mississippi, Illinois, Alabama, Missouri, Arkansas and Michigan
—send this letter of peace and friendship, signed by my own
hand.
I hope your health is good. China is a great empire, extending
over a great part of the world. The Chinese are numerous. You
have millions and millions of subjects. The twenty-six United
States are as large as China, though our people are not so
numerous. The rising sun looks upon the great mountains and
great rivers of China. When he sets he looks upon mountains
and rivers equally large in the United States. Our territories
extend from one great ocean to the other; and on the west we are
divided only from your domain by the sea. Leaving the mouth of
one of our great rivers and going constantly towards the setting
sun we sail to Japan and the Yellow Sea.
Now, my words are that the governments of two such great
countries should be at peace. It is proper and according to the

will of heaven that they should respect each other and act
wisely. I therefore send to your Court Caleb Cushing one of the
wise and learned men of this country. On his first arrival in
China he will inquire for your health. He has strict orders to go
to your great city of Pekin and there to deliver this letter. He will
have with him secretaries and interpreters.
The Chinese love to trade with our people and sell them tea and
silk for which our people pay silver and sometimes other
articles. But if the Chinese and Americans will trade there
should be rules so that they shall not break your laws or our
laws. Our minister, Caleb Cushing, is authorized to make a
treaty to regulate trade. Let it be just. Let there be no unfair
advantage on either side. Let the people trade not only at
Canton, but also at Amoy, Ningpo, Shanghai, Fushan and all
such other places as may offer profitable exchanges both to
China and the United States, provided they do not break your
laws or our laws. We shall not take the part of the evil doers. We
shall not uphold them that break your laws. Therefore we doubt
that you will be pleased that our messenger of peace, with this
letter in hand, shall come to Pekin and there deliver it, and that
your great officers will, by your order, make a treaty with him to
regulate the affairs of trade, so that nothing may happen to
disturb the peace between China and America. Let the treaty be
signed by your own imperial hand. It shall be signed by mine,
by the authority of the great council, the Senate.
And so may your health be good and may peace reign.
Written at Washington this twelfth day of July, in the year of our
Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-three.
Your good friend,
John Tyler,
President.
Mr. Cushing accordingly negotiated our first treaty with China on the 3d of
July of the following year, and his ability at that time, as well as thereafter,

won for him, irrespective of party affiliations, an enviable place in the
history of American diplomacy. He was sent upon his mission to Spain in
1874 by the party which he had opposed from its first organization, and his
diplomatic erudition was indispensable to the State Department during the
Grant administration.
Certain events in the career of Mr. Cushing serve to recall the days of Mr.
and Mrs. Franklin Pierce, whose lives were clouded by a grief that
saddened the whole of their subsequent career. A short time before Pierce's
inauguration, the President-elect with Mrs. Pierce and their only son, a lad
of immature years, were on their way to Andover in Massachusetts, when
the child was accidentally killed. Mrs. Pierce never could be diverted from
her all-absorbing sorrow, and I shall always remember the grief-stricken
expression of this first Lady of the Land. Her maiden name was Jane Means
Appleton, and she was the daughter of the Rev. Dr. Jesse Appleton,
President of Bowdoin College. During the Pierce administration, Judge
John Cadwalader, the father of the present John Cadwalader of
Philadelphia, was a member of Congress. The son was then a mere lad, but
he bore such a strong resemblance to the President's son that one day when
Mrs. Pierce met him she was completely overcome. After this boy had
become a man and had attained exceptional eminence at the bar, he
feelingly alluded to this touching incident of his earlier days.
I was very intimately acquainted with Elizabeth and Fanny MacNeil,
President Pierce's nieces, who were occasional visitors at the White House.
They were daughters of General John MacNeil, U.S.A., who had acquitted
himself with distinction in the War of 1812. Elizabeth married, as before
stated, General Henry W. Benham of the Engineer Corps of the Army, and
Fanny became the wife of Colonel Chandler E. Potter, U.S.A. Dr. Thomas
Miller was our family physician for many years. He came to Washington
from Loudoun County, Virginia, and married Miss Virginia Collins Jones,
daughter of Walter Jones, an eminent lawyer. During the Pierce
administration he was physician to the President's family.

CHAPTER XI
MARRIAGE AND CONTINUED LIFE IN WASHINGTON

I met my future father-in-law, Samuel L. Gouverneur, Sr., for the first time
in Cold Spring, New York. Mr. Gouverneur, accompanied by his second
wife, then a bride, who was Miss Mary Digges Lee, of Needwood,
Frederick County, Maryland, and a granddaughter of Thomas Sim Lee,
second Governor of the same state, was the guest of Gouverneur Kemble.
When I first knew Mr. Gouverneur he possessed every gift that fortune as
well as nature can bestow. To quote the words of Eliab Kingman, a lifelong
friend of his and who for many years was the Nestor of the Washington
press, "he even possessed a seductive voice." General Scott, prior to my
marriage into the family, remarked to me that there "was something in Mr.
Gouverneur lacking of greatness."
The history of my husband's family is so well known that it seems almost
superfluous to dwell upon it, but, as these reminiscences are purely
personal, I may at least incidentally refer to it. Samuel L. Gouverneur, Sr.,
was the youngest child of Nicholas Gouverneur and his wife, Hester
Kortright, a daughter of Lawrence Kortright, a prominent merchant of New
York and at one time president of its Chamber of Commerce. He was
graduated from Columbia College in New York in the class of 1817, and
married his first cousin, Maria Hester Monroe, the younger daughter of
James Monroe. This wedding took place in the East Room of the White
House. My husband, Samuel L. Gouverneur, Jr., was the youngest child of
this alliance. The National Intelligencer of March 11, 1820, contained the
following brief marriage notice:
Married
On Thursday evening last [March 9th], in this City, by the
Reverend Mr. [William] Hawley, Samuel Laurence Gouverneur,
Esq., of New York, to Miss Maria Hester Monroe, youngest
daughter of James Monroe, President of the United States.

For a number of years Samuel L. Gouverneur, Sr., was private secretary to
his father-in-law, President Monroe. In 1825 he was a member of the New
York Legislature, and from 1828 to 1836 Postmaster of the City of New
York. For many years, like the gentlemen of his day and class, he was much
interested in racehorses and at one time owned the famous horse, Post Boy.
He was also deeply interested in the drama and it was partially through his
efforts that many brilliant stars were brought to this country to perform at
the Bowery Theater in New York, of which he was a partial owner. Among
its other owners were Prosper M. Wetmore, the well-known author and
regent of the University of the State of New York, and General James A.
Hamilton, son of Alexander Hamilton and acting Secretary of State in 1829,
under Jackson. Mr. Gouverneur was a man of decidedly social tastes and at
one period of his life owned and occupied the De Menou buildings on H
Street in Washington, where, during the life of his first wife, he gave some
brilliant entertainments. It was from this house that his son, and my future
husband, went to the Mexican War. Many years subsequent to my marriage
I heard Rear Admiral John J. Almy, U.S.N., describe some of the
entertainments given by the Gouverneur family, and he usually wound up
his reminiscences by informing me that sixteen baskets of champagne were
frequently consumed by the guests during a single evening. My old friend,
Emily Mason, loved to refer to these parties and told me that she made her
début at one of them. The house was well adapted for entertainments, as
there were four spacious drawing-rooms, two on each side of a long hall,
one side being reserved for dancing.
At the time of the Gouverneur-Monroe wedding the bride was but sixteen
years of age, and many years younger than her only sister, Eliza, who was
the wife of Judge George Hay of Virginia, the United States District-
Attorney of that State, and the prosecuting officer at the trial of Aaron Burr.
Mrs. Hay was educated in Paris at Madame Campan's celebrated school,
where she was the associate and friend of Hortense de Beauharnais,
subsequently the Queen of Holland and the mother of Napoleon III. The
Rev. Dr. William Hawley, who performed the marriage ceremony of Miss
Monroe and Mr. Gouverneur, was the rector of old St. John's Church in
Washington. He was a gentleman of the old school and always wore knee
breeches and shoe buckles. In the War of 1812 he commanded a company
of divinity students in New York, enlisted for the protection of the city. It is

said that when ordered to the frontier he refused to go and resigned his
commission, and I have heard that Commodore Stephen Decatur refused to
attend St. John's Church during his rectorship, because he said he did not
care to listen to a man who refused to obey orders.

Mrs. James Monroe, née Kortright,
by Benjamin West.
Original portrait owned by Mrs.
Gouverneur.
Only the relatives and personal friends attended the Gouverneur-Monroe
wedding at the White House; even the members of the Cabinet were not
invited. The gallant General Thomas S. Jesup, one of the heroes of the War
of 1812 and Subsistance Commissary General of the Army, acted as
groomsman to Mr. Gouverneur. Two of his daughters, Mrs. James Blair and
Mrs. Augustus S. Nicholson, still reside at the National Capital and are
prominent "old Washingtonians." After this quiet wedding, Mr. and Mrs.
Gouverneur left Washington upon a bridal tour and about a week later
returned to the White House, where, at a reception, Mrs. Monroe gave up
her place as hostess to mingle with her guests, while Mrs. Gouverneur

received in her place. Commodore and Mrs. Stephen Decatur, who lived on
Lafayette Square, gave the bride her first ball, and two mornings later, on
the twenty-second of March, 1820, Decatur fought his fatal duel with
Commodore James Barron and was brought home a corpse. "The bridal
festivities," wrote Mrs. William Winston Seaton, wife of the editor of The
National Intelligencer, "have received a check which will prevent any
further attentions to the President's family, in the murder of Decatur." The
invitations already sent out for an entertainment in honor of the bride and
groom by Commodore David Porter, father of the late Admiral David D.
Porter, U.S.N., were immediately countermanded.
I never had the pleasure of knowing my mother-in-law, Mrs. Maria Hester
Monroe Gouverneur, as she died some years before my marriage, but I
learned to revere her through her son, whose tender regard for her was one
of the absorbing affections of his life and changed the whole direction of his
career. At an early age he was appointed a Lieutenant in the regular Army
and served with distinction through the Mexican War in the Fourth Artillery.
On one occasion subsequent to that conflict, while his mother was suffering
from a protracted illness, he applied to the War Department for leave of
absence in order that he might visit her sick bed; and when it was not
granted he resigned his commission and thus sacrificed an enviable position
to his sense of filial duty. Many years later, after my husband's decease, in
looking over his papers I found these lines written by him just after his
mother's death:—
"A man through life has but one true friend and that friend generally leaves
him early. Man enters the lists of life but ere he has fought his way far that
friend falls by his side; he never finds another so fond, so true, so faithful to
the last—His Mother!"
Mrs. Gouverneur was somewhat literary in her tastes and, like many others
of her time, regarded it as an accomplishment to express herself in verse on
sentimental occasions. One of my daughters, whom she never saw, owns
the original manuscript of the following lines written as a tribute of
friendship to the daughter of President John Tyler, at the time of her
marriage:—
TO MISS TYLER ON HER WEDDING DAY.

The day, the happy day, has come
That gives you to your lover's arms;
Check not the tear or rising bloom
That springs from all those strange alarms.

To be a blest and happy wife
Is what all women wish to prove;
And may you know through all your life
The dear delights of wedded love.

'Tis not strange that you should feel
Confused in every thought and feeling;
Your bosom heave, the tear should steal
At thoughts of all the friends you're leaving.

Happy girl may your life prove,
All sunshine, joy and purest pleasure;
One long, long day of happy love,
Your husband's joy, his greatest treasure.

Be to him all that woman ought,
In joy and health and every sorrow;
Let his true pleasures be only sought
With you to-day, with you to-morrow.

Believe not that in palace walls
'Tis only there that joy you'll find;
At home with friends in your own halls
There's more content and peace of mind.

More splendor you may find 'tis true,
And glitter, show, and elevation,
But if the world of you speak true,
You prize not wealth or this high station.

Your heart's too pure, your mind too high,
To prize such empty pomp and state;
You leave such scenes without a sigh

To court the joys that on you wait.
After meeting Mr. and Mrs. Gouverneur, my future husband's father and his
second wife, at Cold Spring, I renewed my acquaintance with them in
Washington, where they were living in an old-fashioned house on New
York Avenue, between Fourteenth and Fifteenth Streets. We often
welcomed Mrs. Gouverneur as a guest at our Washington home and I was
subsequently invited to visit her at their country seat, Needwood, Frederick
County, Maryland, located upon a tract of land chiefly composed of large
farms at one time owned exclusively by the Lee family. I quote Mrs.
Gouverneur's graceful letter of invitation:—
My dear Miss Campbell,
I can not refrain from writing to remind you of your promise to
us; this must be about the time fixed upon, (at least we all feel as
if it was), and the season is so delightful, not to mention the
strawberries which will be in great perfection this week—these
reasons, together with our great desire to see you, determined
me to give you warning that we are surely expecting you, and
hope to hear very soon from you to say when we may send to
the Knoxville depot for you. I would be so much gratified if Mrs.
Eames would come with you; it would give us all the sincerest
pleasure, and I do not think that such a journey would be
injurious. You leave Washington to come here on the early (6
o'clock) train, get out at the Relay House, and wait until the
western cars pass, (about 8 o'clock), get into them, and reach
Knoxville at 12 o'clock. So you see that altogether you have
only six hours, and you rest more than half an hour at the Relay
House. From Knoxville our carriage brings you to "Needwood"
in less than an hour. If there is any gentleman you would like to
come as an escort Mr. G. and myself will be most happy to see
him. Dr. Jones, you know, does intend to travel about a little and
said he would come to see us; perhaps he will come with you, or
Mr. Hibbard I should be most happy to see—anyone in short
whom you choose to bring will be most welcome. Tell Mr.
Hibbard I read his speech and admired it as I presume everyone
does. Good-bye, dear Miss Campbell. I hope you will aid me in

persuading Mrs. Eames to come with you. My warmest regards
to Mrs. Campbell and your sisters, in which my sister [Mrs.
Eugene H. Lynch] and Mr. Gouverneur unite.
Believe me, yours most truly,
M. D. Gouverneur.
Needwood, May 22nd, 1854.
I accepted the invitation and, while I was Mrs. Gouverneur's guest, my
sister Margaret was visiting one of the adjoining places at the home of
Colonel John Lee, whose wife's maiden name was Harriet Carroll. She was
a granddaughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, and their home was the
former residence of another ancestor, Governor Thomas Sim Lee of
Maryland. During my visit at Needwood I renewed the acquaintance of my
future husband, which I had formed a number of years before at the
wedding of Miss Fanny Monroe and Douglas Robinson, of which I have
previously spoken. It is unnecessary to refer to his appearance, which I have
already described, but I am sure it is not unnatural for me to add that a year
after the conclusion of the Mexican War he was brevetted for gallantry and
meritorious conduct in the battles of Contreras and Churubusco. While his
general bearing spoke well for his military training, his mind was a
storehouse of information which I learned to appreciate more and more as
the years rolled by. But of all his fine characteristics I valued and revered
him most for his fine sense of honor and sterling integrity. Like his mother,
Mr. Gouverneur was literary in his tastes and occasionally gave vent to his
feelings in verse. In 1852 Oak Hill, the stately old Monroe place in Virginia
where he had spent much of his early life, was about to pass out of the
family. He was naturally much distressed over the sale of the home so
intimately associated with his childhood's memory, and a few days prior to
his final departure wrote the following lines. In after years nothing could
ever induce him to visit Oak Hill.
FAREWELL TO OAK HILL, 1852, ON DEPARTING THENCE.

The autumn rains are falling fast,
Earth, the heavens are overcast;
The rushing winds mournful sigh,