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.