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 notLook to Time's award,Feeble tradition is their memory's guard.
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.
Look to Time's award,Feeble tradition is their memory's guard.
The most prominent newspaper in New York in my early days was theCourier and Enquirer, edited by General James Watson Webb, a man of distinguished ability. He began his literary career by editing theMorning Courier, but as this was not a very successful venture he purchased theNew York Enquirerfrom 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 ofThe New York Herald, Henry J. Raymond, the founder ofThe New York Times, and Charles King, father of Madam Kate King Waddington and Mrs. Eugene Schuyler, who at one time editedThe Americanand subsequently became the honored president of Columbia College. James Reed Spaulding, a New Englander by birth, was also connected with theCourier and Enquirerfor about ten years. In 1860 he became a member of the staff of the New YorkWorld, which, by the way, was originally intended to be a semi-religious sheet. During President Lincoln's administration General Webb sold theCourier and Enquirerto theWorld, 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 Heraldwas established some years after theCourier and Enquirerand 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, theelder James Gordon Bennett, dubbed its three journalistic contemporaries in New York, the World, the Flesh, and the Devil—theWorld, representing human life with all its pomps and vanities; theTimes, as a sheet as vacillating as the flesh; and theTribune, 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 theHerald. 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 theHerald. 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 mydaughters 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 theDemocratic Review, which was published in magazine form. I well recall the first appearance ofHarper's Magazinein June, 1850, and that for some time it had but few illustrations.The EveningPost was established in 1801, many years prior to theCourier 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 & SETONTwelve hhds. assorted Glass Ware.2 boxes Listadoes,1 trunk white Kid Gloves,200 boxes Soap & Candles,60 bales Cinnamon, entitled to drawback.Nov. 16.FREIGHTFor Copenhagen or Hamburgh,The bark BERKKESKOW, Capt.Gubriel Tothammer, is ready to receivefreight for either of the above places, if applicationis made to the Captain on board, at Gouverneur'sWharf.GOUVERNEUR & KEMBLE.FOR SALEGin in pipes; large and small green BottleCases, complete; Glass Ware, consisting ofTumblers, Decanters, &c.; Hair Brushes, long andshort; black and blue Dutch Cloth; Flour, byFREDERICK DE PEYSTER.A STORE HOUSE in Broad-street to let, applyas above. Nov. 16.THE SUBSCRIBER has for sale, remaining fromthe cargo of the ship Sarson, from Calcutta,an assortment of WHITE PIECE GOODS.Also50 tierces Rice,60 hhds. Jamaica Rum,15 bales Sea-Island Cotton,10,000 Pieces White Nankeens,29 tierces and 34 bls. Jamaica Coffee,A quantity of Large Bottles in cases,And as usual, OldMadeira Wine, fit for immediate use.ROBERT LENOX.
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 receivefreight for either of the above places, if applicationis made to the Captain on board, at Gouverneur'sWharf.
GOUVERNEUR & KEMBLE.
FOR SALE
Gin in pipes; large and small green BottleCases, complete; Glass Ware, consisting ofTumblers, Decanters, &c.; Hair Brushes, long andshort; black and blue Dutch Cloth; Flour, by
FREDERICK DE PEYSTER.
A STORE HOUSE in Broad-street to let, applyas above. Nov. 16.
THE SUBSCRIBER has for sale, remaining fromthe 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 Cotton,10,000 Pieces White Nankeens,29 tierces and 34 bls. Jamaica Coffee,A quantity of Large Bottles in cases,And as usual, OldMadeira Wine, fit for immediate use.
ROBERT LENOX.
FOOTNOTES:[2]Possibly this word is "Election."
[2]Possibly this word is "Election."
[2]Possibly this word is "Election."
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 theSacre 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 asTante, 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'sown account of her early struggles after leaving Miss Hay, from which I take great pleasure in quoting:
Among the royalémigrésto 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....
Among the royalémigrésto 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 acomposition 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 theHomefor 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 loveAnd weary Christians turn their eyes above—Well was't thou nam'd, fair bark, whose recent doomHas many a household wrapt in deepest gloom!On earth no more those voyagers' steps shall roamThat cast their anchor at an Heavenly "Home"!High beat their hearts, when first their fated prowCut through the surge that boils above them now,They saw in vision rapt their fatherlandAnd felt once more its odorous breezes bland—The frozen North receded from their sightAnd fancy's dream entranced them with delight—Oh! who can tell what pangs their soul assail'dWhen every hope of life and rescue fail'd,When wild despair their throbbing bosoms wrungAnd 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 stormSwept 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 viewTo grovelling souls fair mercy bids adieu!And thou, sweet damsel! who in girlhood's bloomDescended then to fill an ocean tomb—What werethythoughts, when roaring for their preyThe foaming billows choked the watery way!'Tis said that souls have giv'n in parting hourA 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 surveysAnd then in death the blasted eye-balls glaze—Perchance at that dark moment when the maidOn 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!
Dear Home! what magic trembles in the word;Each bosom's fountain at its sound is stirred,Disgusted worldlings dream of early loveAnd weary Christians turn their eyes above—Well was't thou nam'd, fair bark, whose recent doomHas many a household wrapt in deepest gloom!On earth no more those voyagers' steps shall roamThat cast their anchor at an Heavenly "Home"!High beat their hearts, when first their fated prowCut through the surge that boils above them now,They saw in vision rapt their fatherlandAnd felt once more its odorous breezes bland—The frozen North receded from their sightAnd fancy's dream entranced them with delight—Oh! who can tell what pangs their soul assail'dWhen every hope of life and rescue fail'd,When wild despair their throbbing bosoms wrungAnd 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 stormSwept 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 viewTo grovelling souls fair mercy bids adieu!And thou, sweet damsel! who in girlhood's bloomDescended then to fill an ocean tomb—What werethythoughts, when roaring for their preyThe foaming billows choked the watery way!'Tis said that souls have giv'n in parting hourA 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 surveysAnd then in death the blasted eye-balls glaze—Perchance at that dark moment when the maidOn 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 theHome, I found by accident in my father's library anédition 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 bestfriend, 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 graveThis aching heart and throbbing breastWould seek and share her narrow rest.She was a form of life and lightThat soon became a part of sight,And rose where'er I turned mine eye—The morning-star of memory.
She sleeps beneath the wandering wave;Ah! had she but an earthly graveThis aching heart and throbbing breastWould seek and share her narrow rest.She was a form of life and lightThat 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 prefixdehaving 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 theSacre 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 ofThe 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 theSacre Coeura 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 areligieuse, our topics of conversation were few, but I noticed that she seemed interested in discussing her ownfamily, 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 somemember 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, enjoyedTante'stutelage 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, moreespecially 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 naturalhauteur, 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 shapeThan that she bore on earth.
She was so fair that in the Angelic choir,She will not need put on another shapeThan 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 connectionwith 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 notablesalon, where thebeaux espritsof 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 ofEnglish 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 meLike those Nicean barks of yore,That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,The weary, way-worn wanderer boreTo his own native shore.
Helen, thy beauty is to meLike those Nicean barks of yore,That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,The weary, way-worn wanderer boreTo 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 lifein 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, theirroute 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 musicfor 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.
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 theevening of the President's arrival Mrs. Clinton was promenading in the large parlor of the hotel, leaning upon the arm of the PortugueseChargé 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 thenouveaux 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 regardedas 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 motherwas 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, thefiancéof 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 Presidentpro temporeof 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: