LONG BRANCH, NEWPORT AND ELSEWHERE
When I was about ten years of age, accompanied by my parents, I made a
visit to Long Branch, which was then one of the most fashionable summer
resorts for New Yorkers. As we made the journey by steamboat and the
water was rough we were the victims of a violent attack of seasickness
from which few of the passengers escaped. Many Philadelphians also spent
their summers at this resort, and there was naturally a fair sprinkling
of people from other large cities. At that time there were no hotels in
the place, but there was one commodious boarding house which
accommodated a large number of guests. It bore no name, but was
designated as "Mrs. Sairs'," from its proprietress. In this
establishment our whole family, by no means small, found accommodations.
I recall many pleasant acquaintances we made while there, especially
that of Miss Molly Hamilton of Philadelphia. She was a vivacious old
lady, and was accompanied by her nephew, Hamilton Beckett, in whom I
found a congenial playmate. His name made a strong impression upon my
memory, as I was then reading the history of Thomas à Becket, the
murdered Archbishop of Canterbury. I have heard that this friend of my
childhood went eventually to England to reside. The Penningtons of
Newark had a cottage near us. William Pennington subsequently became
Governor of New Jersey. I also enjoyed the youthful companionship of his
daughter Mary, whom many years later I met in Washington. In the
interval she had become a pronounced belle and the wife of Hugh A. Toler
of Newark.
The guests of the boarding house were inclined to complain that the
beach was too exclusively appropriated by two acquaintances of ours who
were living in the same house with us, Mrs. G. W. Featherstonhaugh and
Mrs. Thomas M. Willing, and their train of admirers. They were sprightly
young women and daughters of Bernard Moore Carter of Virginia. I
remember it was the gossip of the place that both of them could count
their offers of marriage by the score. Mrs. Willing was a skilled
performer upon the harp, an instrument then much in vogue, but whose
silvery tones are now, alas, only memory's echo. Mr. Featherstonhaugh,
who was by birth an Englishman, after residing in the United States a
few years, wrote in 1847 a book entitled "Excursion through the Slave
States from Washington on the Potomac to the Frontier of Mexico." I
recall that in this volume he spoke with enthusiasm of the _agréments_
of the palate which he enjoyed during a few days' sojourn at Barnum's
Hotel in Baltimore. He dwelt particularly, with gastronomic ecstasy,
upon the canvas-back duck and soft-shell crab upon which he feasted, and
was inclined to draw an unfavorable comparison between the former hotel
and Gadsby's, the well-known Washington hostelry. Upon his journey he
visited Monticello, the former home of Thomas Jefferson. His encomium on
this distinguished man appealed to me as I am sure it does to others; he
spoke of him as the "Confucius of his country." Altogether, Mr.
Featherstonhaugh's experiences in America were as novel and entertaining
as a sojourn with Aborigines.
Just off the beach at Long Branch was a high bluff which descended
gradually to the sea, and at this point were several primitive bath
houses belonging to Mrs. Sairs' establishment. Following the prevalent
custom, we wore no bathing shoes and stockings, but, accompanied by a
stalwart bathing master, we enjoyed many dips in the briny deep, and
were brought safely back by him to our bath house. There was no
immodest lingering on the beach; this privilege was reserved for the
advanced civilization of a later day.
While I was still a young child, and some years after our visit to Long
Branch, my infant brother Malcolm became seriously ill. Dr. John W.
Francis, our family physician, prescribed a change of air for him, and
my parents took him to Newport. We found pleasant accommodations for our
family in a fashionable boarding house on Thames Street, the guests of
which were composed almost exclusively of Southern families. Newport was
then in an exceedingly primitive state and I have no recollection of
seeing either cottages or hotels, while modern improvements were
unknown. We led a simple outdoor life, taking our breakfast at eight,
dining at two and supping at six. It was indeed "early to bed and early
to rise."
As I recall these early days in Newport, two fascinating old ladies,
typical Southern gentlewomen, the Misses Philippa and Hetty Minus of
Savannah, present themselves vividly to my memory. After we returned to
our New York home we had the pleasure of meeting them again and
entertaining them. Another charming guest of our establishment was the
wife of James L. Pettigru, an eminent citizen of South Carolina. She was
the first woman of fashion presented to my girlish vision, and her mode
of life was a revelation. She kept very late hours, often lingering in
her room the next morning until midday. As I was then familiar with Miss
Edgeworth's books for young people, which all judicious parents
purchased for their children, I immediately designated Mrs. Pettigru as
"Lady Delacour," whose habits and fashions are so pleasingly described
in that admirable novel, "Belinda." Although born and bred in South
Carolina, Mr. Pettigru remained loyal to the Union, and after his death
his valuable library was purchased by Congress. The members of another
representative South Carolina family, the Allstons, were also among our
fellow boarders at Long Branch. This name always brings to mind the
pathetic history of Theodosia Burr, Aaron Burr's only child, and her sad
death; while the name of Washington Allston, the artist, is too well
known to be dwelt upon.
After a month's pleasant sojourn in Newport my brother's health had
materially improved and we returned to our New York home by the way of
Boston, where we were guests at the Tremont House. I blush to
acknowledge to the Bostonians who may peruse these pages that my chief
recollection of this visit is that I was standing on the steps of the
hotel, when I was accosted by a gentleman, who exclaimed: "You are a
Campbell, I'll bet ten thousand dollars!" I apologize for writing such a
personal reminiscence of such an historic town, but such are the freaks
of memory. This was prior to the maturer days of William Lloyd Garrison,
Wendell Phillips and Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Before passing on to other subjects I must not omit mentioning that at
this period the currency used in the New England States differed from
that of New York. This fact was brought vividly before me in Newport
when I made an outlay of a shilling at a candy store. In return for my
Mexican quarter of a dollar I was handed a small amount of change. I
left the shop fully convinced that I was a victim of sharp practice, but
learned later that there was a slight difference between the shilling
used in New York and that used in New England.
Many years later I visited Boston again, this time as the guest of Mr.
and Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop at their superb Brookline home; and,
escorted by Mr. Winthrop and Mr. and Mrs. Jabez L. M. Curry of Alabama,
who were also their house-guests, I visited all the points of historical
interest. Both Mr. Winthrop and Mr. Curry were then trustees of the
Peabody Fund. A few years after we separated in Boston Mr. and Mrs.
Curry went to Spain to reside, where, as American Minister, he was
present at the birth of King Alfonso of Spain.
About fifteen years later I again visited Newport, but this time I was a
full-fledged young woman. During my absence a large number of hotels and
cottages had been erected, many of which were occupied by Southern
families who still continued to regard this Rhode Island resort as
almost exclusively their own. I recall the names of many of them, all of
whom were conspicuous in social life in the South. Among them were the
Middletons, whose ancestors were historically prominent; the Pinckneys,
descended from the illustrious Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, who uttered
the well-known maxim, "Millions for defense but not one cent for
tribute;" the Izards; the Draytons, of South Carolina; and the
Habershams of Georgia. During this visit in Newport I was the guest, at
their summer cottage, of my life-long friends, the Misses Mary and
Margaret Gelston, daughters of Maltby Gelston, former President of the
Manhattan Bank of New York. Not far from the Gelstons resided what Sam
Weller would call three "widder women." They were sisters, the daughters
of Ralph Izard of Dorchester, S.C., and bore distinguished South
Carolina names; Mrs. Poinsett who had been the wife of Joel Roberts
Poinsett, the well-known statesman and Secretary of War under Van Buren,
Mrs. Eustis, the widow of Gen. Abram Eustis, U.S.A., who had served in
the War of 1812, and Mrs. Thomas Pinckney, whose husband, the nephew of
General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, had been a wealthy rice planter in
South Carolina. The beautiful Christmas flower, the poinsettia, was
named in compliment to Mr. Poinsett. These interesting women for many
years were in the habit of leaving what they called their "Carolina"
home for a summer sojourn at Newport, where their house was one of the
social centers of attraction. With their graceful bearing, gentle voices
and cordial manners they were characteristic types of the Southern
_grandes dames_ now so seldom seen. A short distance from my hosts'
cottage lived the daughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, who was
also the widow of Robert Goodloe Harper, a prominent Federalist and a
United States Senator during the administrations of Madison and Monroe.
Mrs. Harper's sister married Richard Caton of Maryland, whose daughters
made such distinguished British matrimonial alliances. Her daughter,
Emily Harper, upon whose personality I love to dwell, was from her
earliest childhood endowed with strong religious traits. Her gentle
Christian character exemplified charity to all who were fortunate enough
to come within the radius of her influence. She was in every sense of
the word a deeply religious woman, and her influence upon those around
her was of the most elevating character.
I shall always remember with the keenest enjoyment some of the pleasant
teas at this hospitable home of the Harpers in Newport. All sects were
welcomed, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Hebrews, Unitarians, and I doubt
not that an equally cordial reception would have awaited Mahommedans or
Hindoos. I once heard Miss Harper say that she shared with Chateaubriand
the ennobling sentiment that the salvation of one soul was of more value
than the conquest of a kingdom. Naturally the Harper cottage was the
rendezvous for Southerners and its hospitable roof sheltered many
prominent people, especially guests from Maryland. Mr. Maltby Gelston
told me at the time of this visit that Mrs. Harper was the only child of
a Signer then living. It is probable that he spoke from positive
knowledge, as he was an authority upon the subject, having married the
granddaughter of Philip Livingston, a New York Signer. A few years
later, when I was married in Washington, D.C., I was deeply gratified
when Miss Harper came from Baltimore to attend my wedding. The marked
attentions paid to her by Caleb Cushing, then Attorney-General under
President Pierce, were the source of much gossip, but she seemed
entirely indifferent to his devotion. I once heard him express great
annoyance after a trip to Baltimore because he failed to see her on
account of a headache with which she was said to be suffering, and he
inquired of me in a petulant manner whether headaches were an universal
feminine malady. Like her mother, she lived to a very advanced age and
when she departed this life the world lost one of its saintliest
characters.
One of the most attractive cottages in Newport at the time of my second
visit was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Henry Casimir de Rham of New York. It
was densely shaded by a number of graceful silver-maple trees. Mr. de
Rham was a prosperous merchant of Swiss extraction, whose wife was Miss
Maria Theresa Moore, a member of one of New York's most prominent
families and a niece of Bishop Benjamin Moore of New York.
The social leaders of Newport at this period were Mr. and Mrs. Robert
Morgan Gibbes, whose winter home was in New York. Mr. Gibbes, who, by
the way, was a great-uncle of William Waldorf Astor, was a South
Carolinian by birth and had married Miss Emily Oliver of Paterson, New
Jersey. They lived in a handsome house, gave sumptuous entertainments,
and had an interesting family of daughters, several of whom I knew quite
well. One well-remembered evening I attended a party at their house
which was regarded as the social affair of the season. It made a lasting
impression upon my mind owing to a trivial circumstance which seems
hardly worth relating. It was the first time I had ever seen mottoes
used at entertainments, and at this party they were exceptionally
handsome. The one which fell to my share, and which I treasured for some
time, bore upon it a large bunch of red currants. These favors were
always imported, and a few years later became so fashionable that no
dinner or supper table was regarded as quite the proper thing without
them. I take it for granted that this custom was the origin of the
german favors which in the course of time came into such general use.
In 1853 I made a third visit to Newport as the guest of Mrs. Winfield
Scott. General Scott's headquarters were then in Washington, but, as his
military views were widely divergent from those of Jefferson Davis,
President Pierce's Secretary of War, he was urging the President to
transfer him to New York. I have frequently heard the General jocosely
remark that he longed for a Secretary of War who would not "make him
cry." The Scotts at this period were spending their winters in
Washington and their summers in Newport. Meanwhile his numerous
admirers, in recognition of his distinguished services, presented him
with a house on West Twelfth Street which was occupied by him and his
family after his transfer to New York. The principal donor of this
residence was the Hon. Hamilton Fish.
After a charming sojourn of several weeks in Newport, I was about
returning to my home when I casually invited General Scott's youngest
daughter, Marcella ("Ella"), then only a schoolgirl, to accompany me to
Miss Harper's cottage, as I wished to say good-bye. Upon entering the
drawing-room a cousin and guest of Miss Harper's, Charles Carroll
McTavish of Howard County, Maryland, appeared upon the threshold and was
introduced to us. He was then approaching middle life and I learned
later that he had served some years in the Russian Army. Marcella
Scott's appearance apparently fascinated him from the moment they met,
and from that day he began to be devotedly attentive to her. Mrs. Scott,
however, entirely disapproved of Mr. McTavish's attentions to her
daughter on account of her extreme youth. A few months later Marcella
returned to Madame Chegaray's school, where she became a boarding pupil
and was not allowed to see visitors. The following winter she was taken
ill with typhoid fever, and, when convalescent enough to be moved, was
brought to my home in Houston Street, New York, to recuperate, as the
Scotts were still living in Washington and the journey was considered
too long and arduous to be taken by an invalid. Meanwhile, Mr. McTavish
renewed his attentions to Miss Scott and the impression made was more
than a passing fancy for in the following June they were married in the
Twelfth Street house of which I have already spoken, General Scott
having in the interim succeeded in having his headquarters removed to
New York.
I had the pleasure of being present at this wedding, which, in spite of
a warm day in June and the many absentees from the city, was one of
exceptional brilliancy. The Army and Navy were well represented, the
officers of both branches of the service appearing in full-dress
uniform. The hour appointed for the ceremony was high noon, but an
amusing _contretemps_ blocked the way. An incorrigible mantua-maker,
faithless to all promises and regardless of every sense of propriety,
failed to send home the bridal dress at the appointed time. This state
of affairs proved decidedly embarrassing, but the guests were informed
of the cause of the delay and patiently awaited developments. Behind the
scenes, however, quite a different spectacle was presented, while amid
much bustle and excitement a second wedding gown was being hurriedly
prepared. After an hour's delay, however, the belated garment arrived,
when the bride-elect was quickly dressed and walked into the large
drawing-room in all of her bridal finery, leaning, as was then the
custom, upon the arm of the groom. Archbishop Hughes conducted the
wedding service, and seized upon the auspicious occasion to make an
address of some length. Previous to the ceremony, my intimate friend,
the young bride's older sister, Cornelia Scott, who a few years
previous had become while in Rome a convert to Catholicism, asked me
with much earnestness of manner to do my best to entertain the
Archbishop, as she thought, in her kind way, that he might be somewhat
out of his element when surrounded by such a large and fashionable
assemblage. This was, indeed, a pleasing task, as it enabled me to renew
my earlier acquaintance with this gifted prelate. The only member of the
groom's family present at this ceremony was his handsome brother,
Alexander S. McTavish, who came from Baltimore for the occasion. Strange
to say, in view of the many presents usually displayed upon such
occasions nowadays, I do not remember, although I was a family guest,
seeing or hearing of a single bridal gift, but some of the wedding
guests I recall very distinctly. Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Charles
King, the former of whom was President of Columbia College and an
intimate friend of General Scott's; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ray, whose
daughter Cornelia married Major Schuyler Hamilton, aide-de-camp to
General Scott during the Mexican war; Prof. Clement C. Moore and his
daughter Theresa; Mr. and Mrs. Edward Mayo of Elizabeth, N.J., the
former of whom was Mrs. Scott's brother; Mrs. Robert Henry Cabell, a
sister of Mrs. Scott's from Richmond; Major Thomas Williams, an aide to
General Scott, who was killed during the Civil War; and Major Henry L.
Scott, aide and son-in-law of General Scott.
The same evening, after the wedding guests had departed and quiet again
reigned supreme in the household, I went to Mrs. Scott's room to sit
with her, as she seemed sad and lonely, and at the same time to talk
over with her, womanlike, the events of the day. In our quiet
conversation I remember referring to Archbishop Hughes's address to the
groom, and asked her if she had observed that he had dwelt upon the
bride "being taken from an affectionate father," while the remaining
members of the family were entirely ignored. Mrs. Scott immediately
bristled up and with much warmth of feeling said that she had noticed
the omission and believed that the action of the Archbishop was
premeditated. Just here was an undercurrent which as an intimate friend
of the family I fully understood. After Virginia Scott's death at the
Georgetown Convent Mrs. Scott was most outspoken in her denunciation of
the Roman Catholic Church, which she felt had robbed her of her
daughter.
Some years after his marriage Charles Carroll McTavish applied to the
Legislature of Maryland for permission to drop his surname and to assume
that of his great-grandfather, Charles Carroll. As this request was
strenuously opposed by other descendants of the Signer, who regarded it
as inexpedient to increase the number of Charles Carrolls, the petition
of Mr. McTavish was not granted. Mary Wellesley McTavish, his sister, I
remember as a sprightly young woman of fine appearance. She made her
_début_ in London society as the guest of her aunt, Mary McTavish, wife
of the Marquis of Wellesley. After a brief courtship she married Henry
George Howard, a son of the Earl of Carlisle, and accompanied him to the
Netherlands, where he was the accredited British Minister. Mrs. George
Bancroft, wife of the historian, who accompanied her husband when he was
our Minister to England, gave me an interesting sketch of Mrs. Howard's
varied life. Death finally claimed her in Paris and her body was brought
back to this country and buried in Maryland, the home of her youth. Her
mother, who brought the remains across the ocean, soon after her
bereavement, established "The House of the Good Shepherd" in Baltimore.
Three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carroll McTavish grew into
womanhood. The elder sisters, Mary and Emily, both of whom were well
known for their beauty and vivacity, entered upon cloistered lives. Just
as the two sisters were about taking this step, they made a request,
which caused much comment, to the effect that they should be assigned to
different convents. I understand that Mrs. McTavish, their mother, is
still living in Rome with the unmarried daughter. During Mrs. Scott's
residence in Paris she was invited to witness the ceremony of "taking
the veil" at a prominent convent, and writing to her family at home she
remarked: "How strange that human beings, knowing the fickleness of
their natures, should bind themselves for life to one limited space and
unvarying mode of existence."
Hoboken, or, as it was sometimes called, Paulus Hook, was a great resort
in my earlier life for residents of the great metropolis. We children,
accompanied by my father or some other grown person, delighted to roam
in that locality over what was most appropriately termed the "Elysian
Fields." Professional landscape-gardening had not then been thought of,
but nature's achievements often surpass the embellishments of man. Our
cup of happiness was full to the brim when we were taken to this
entrancing spot overlooking the Hudson River, with its innumerable
sloops, steamboats and tugs adding so much to the picturesqueness of the
scene. As we strolled along, we regaled ourselves every now and then
with a refreshing glass of mead, a concoction of honey and cold water,
purchased from a passing vender; and when cakes or candy were added to
the refreshing drink life seemed very _couleur de rose_ to our childish
dreams. Then again we made occasional trips up the river, but the
steamboats and other excursion craft of that day were of course mere
pigmies compared with those of the present time. The cabin always had a
large dining table, on either side of which was a line of berths. Guests
were called to dinner at one o'clock by the vigorous ringing of a large
bell in the hands of a colored waiter dressed in a white apron and
jacket. I have often thought how surprised and pleased this old-time
servant, universally seen in every well-to-do household in those days,
would be if he could return to earth and hear himself addressed as
"butler."
It was upon one of these trips up the Hudson that the widow of General
Alexander Hamilton and her daughter, Mrs. Hamilton Holly, were taking
their mid-day repast, at one end of the long table, when they were
informed that Aaron Burr was partaking of the same meal not far from
them. Their indignation was boundless, and immediately there were two
vacant chairs. Mrs. Holly was a woman of strong intellect, and a
friendship which I formed with her is one of the most cherished memories
of my life. She devoted her widowhood to the care of her aged mother. We
often engaged in confidential conversations, when she would discuss the
tragedies which so clouded her life. I especially remember her dwelling
upon the sad history of her sister, Angelica Hamilton, who, she told me,
was in the bloom of health and surrounded by everything that goes
towards making life happy when her eldest brother, Philip Hamilton, was
killed in a duel. He had but recently been graduated from Columbia
College and lost his life in 1801 on the same spot where, about three
years later, his father was killed by Aaron Burr. This dreadful event
affected her so deeply that her mind became unbalanced, and she was
finally placed in an asylum, where she died at a very advanced age. Mrs.
Hamilton lived in Washington, D.C., in one of the De Menou buildings on
H Street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth Streets, and Mrs. Holly
resided in the same city until her death.
Tragedy seemed to pursue the Hamilton family with unrelenting
perseverance until the third generation. In 1858 the legislature of
Virginia, desiring that every native President should repose upon
Virginia soil, made an appropriation for removing the remains of James
Monroe from New York to Richmond. He died on the 4th of July, 1831,
while temporarily residing in New York with his daughter, Mrs. Samuel L.
Gouverneur, and his body was placed in the Gouverneur vault in the
Marble Cemetery on Second Street, east of Second Avenue, where it
remained for nearly thirty years. The disinterment of the remains of
this distinguished statesman was conducted with much pomp and ceremony
and the body placed on board of the steamer _Jamestown_ and conveyed to
Richmond, accompanied all the way by the 7th Regiment of New York which
acted as a guard of honor. The orator of the occasion was John Cochrane,
a distinguished member of the New York bar; while Henry A. Wise, then
Governor of Virginia, delivered an appropriate address at the grave in
Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond. My husband, Samuel L. Gouverneur,
junior, Monroe's grandson, accompanied the remains as the representative
of the family. After the ceremonies in Richmond were completed, but
before the 7th Regiment had embarked upon its homeward voyage, one of
its members, Laurens Hamilton, a grandson of Alexander Hamilton and a
son of John C. Hamilton, was drowned near Richmond. All the proceedings
connected with the removal of Mr. Monroe's remains, both in New York and
in Richmond, were published some years later by Udolpho Wolfe, a
neighbor and admirer of the late President. A copy of the book was
presented to each member of the 7th Regiment and one of them was also
given by the compiler to my husband. A few years later this same New
York regiment invaded Virginia, but under greatly different
circumstances. A terrible civil war was raging, and the Old Dominion for
a time was its principal battle ground.
I recall an amusing anecdote which Mr. Gouverneur told me upon his
return from this visit to Richmond. While the great concourse of people
was still assembled at Monroe's grave in Hollywood Cemetery, Governor
Henry A. Wise, always proud of his State, remarked: "Now we must have
all the native Presidents of Virginia buried within this inclosure."
Immediately a vigorous hand was placed on his shoulder by a New York
alderman who had accompanied the funeral _cortège_, who exclaimed in
characteristic Bowery vernacular: "Go ahead, Governor, you'll fotch
'em."
The only mode of travel on the Hudson River in my early days was by
boat. One of my recollections is seeing Captain Vanderbilt in command of
a steamboat. I have heard older members of my family say that he
designated himself "Captain Wanderbilt," and that his faithful wife's
endearing mode of accosting him was "Corneil." At any rate, it is
well-known that he began life by operating a rowboat ferry between
Staten Island and New York. In later years a sailboat was substituted
over this same route. The Hudson River Railroad was originally built
under the direction of a number of prominent men in the State who were
anything but skilled in such enterprises. In the beginning of its
career, while high officials bestowed fat offices upon friends and
relatives, its finances were in a chaotic condition. It was during this
state of affairs that Commodore Vanderbilt, with a master mind, grasped
the situation and reorganized the whole system, thereby greatly
increasing his own fortune, and placing the railroad upon a sound
financial basis. After such a remarkable career "blindness to the
future" seems unkindly given, as doubtless it would have been a source
of great satisfaction to this Vanderbilt progenitor could he have known
before passing onward that his hard-earned wealth would eventually
enrich his descendants, even the representatives of nobility.
I have before me an invitation to a New York Assembly, dated the 29th of
January, 1841, addressed to my father and mother, which has followed my
wanderings through seventy years. All of the managers, a list of whom I
give, were representative citizens as well as prominent society men of
the day:
Abm. Schermerhorn, J. Swift Livingston,
Edmd. Pendleton, Jacob R. LeRoy,
James W. Otis, Thos. W. Ludlow,
Wm. Douglas, Chas. McEvers, Jr.,
Henry Delafield, William S. Miller,
Henry W. Hicks, Charles C. King.
Abraham Schermerhorn belonged to a wealthy New York family, and Edmund
Pendleton was a Virginian by birth who resided in New York where he
became socially prominent. James W. Otis was of the Harrison Gray Otis
family of Boston and, as I have already stated, I was at school with his
daughter, Sally. William Douglas was a bachelor living in an attractive
residence on Park Place, where he occasionally entertained his friends.
He belonged to a thrifty family of Scotch descent and had two sisters,
Mrs. Douglas Cruger and Mrs. James Monroe, whose husband was a namesake
and nephew of the ex-President. Early in the last century their mother,
Mrs. George Douglas, gave a ball, and I insert some doggerel with
reference to it written by Miss Anne Macmaster, who later became Mrs.
Charles Russell Codman of Boston. These verses are interesting from the
fact that they give the names of many of the _belles_ and _beaux_ of
that time:
I meant, my dear Fanny, to give you a call
And tell you the news of the Douglases ball;
But the weather's so bad,--I've a cold in my head,--
And I daren't venture out; so I send you instead
A poetic epistle--for plain humble prose
Is not worthy the joys of this ball to disclose.
To begin with our entrance, we came in at nine,
The two rooms below were prodigiously fine,
And the _coup d'oeil_ was shewy and brilliant 'tis true,
Pretty faces not wanting, some old and some new.
But, oh! my dear cousin, no words can describe
The excess of the crowd--like two swarms in one hive.
The squeezing and panting, the blowing and puffing,
The smashing, the crushing, the snatching, the stuffing,
I'd have given my new dress, at one time, I declare,
(The white satin and roses), for one breath of air!
But oh! how full often I inwardly sighed
O'er the wreck of those roses, so lately my pride;
Those roses, my own bands so carefully placed,
As I fondly believed, with such exquisite taste.
Then to see them so cruelly torn and destroyed
I assure you, my dear, I was vastly annoyed.
The ballroom with garlands was prettily drest,
But a small room for dancing it must be confess'd,
If you chanc'd to get in you were lucky no doubt,
But oh! luckier far, if you chanced to get out!
And pray who were there? Is the question you'll ask.
To name the one half would be no easy task--
There were Bayards and Clarksons, Van Hornes and LeRoys,
All famous, you well know, for making a noise.
There were Livingstons, Lenoxes, Henrys and Hoffmans,
And Crugers and Carys, Barnewalls and Bronsons,
Delanceys and Dyckmans and little De Veaux,
Gouverneurs and Goelets and Mr. Picot,
And multitudes more that would tire me to reckon,
But I must not forget the pretty Miss Whitten.
No particular belle claimed the general attention,
There were many, however, most worthy of mention.
The lily of Leonards' might hold the first place
For sweetness of manner, and beauty and grace.
Her cousin Eliza and little Miss Gitty
Both danc'd very lightly, and looked very pretty.
The youngest Miss Mason attracted much notice,
So did Susan Le Roy and the English Miss Otis;
Of _Beaux_ there were plenty, some new ones 'tis true,
But I won't mention names, no, not even to you.
I was lucky in getting good partners, however,
Above all, the two Emmetts, so lively and clever.
With Morris and Maitland I danc'd; and with Sedgwick,
Martin Wilkins, young Armstrong and droll William Renwick.
The old lady was mightily deck'd for the Ball
With Harriet's pearls--and the little one's shawl;
But to give her her due she was civil enough,
Only tiresome in asking the people to stuff.
There was supper at twelve for those who could get it,
I came in too late, but I did not regret it,
For eating at parties was never my passion,
And I'm sorry to see that it's so much the fashion.
After supper, for dancing we'd plenty of room,
And so pleasant it was, that I did not get home
Until three--when the ladies began to look drowsy,
The lamps to burn dim, and the Laird to grow boosy.
The ball being ended, I've no more to tell--
And so, my dear Fanny, I bid you farewell.
In the old pamphlet from which I have already quoted, edited in 1845 by
Moses Y. Beach and compiled for the purpose of furnishing information
concerning the status of New York citizens to banks, merchants and
others, I find the following amusing description of George Douglas:
"George Douglas was a Scotch merchant who hoarded closely. His wine
cellar was more extensive than his library. When George used to see
people speculating and idle it distressed him. He would say: 'People get
too many _idees_ in their head. Why don't they work?' What a blessing he
is not alive in this moonshine age of dreamy schemings." Mr. Beach
apparently was not capable of appreciating a thrifty Scotchman.
This same pamphlet gives an account of a picturesque character whom I
distinctly remember as a highly prominent citizen of New York. His
parentage was involved in mystery, and has remained so until this day. I
refer to Mr. Preserved Fish, the senior member of the firm of Fish,
Grinnell & Co., which subsequently became the prominent business house
of Grinnell, Minturn & Co. Sustained by the apparel peculiar to infants,
he was found floating in the water by some New Bedford fishermen who,
unable to discover his identity, bestowed upon him the uncouth name
which, willingly or unwillingly, he bore until the day of his death. He
and the other members of his firm were originally from New Bedford, one
of the chief centers of the whale fisheries of New England, and came to
New York to attend to the oil and candle industries of certain merchants
of the former city. Few business men in New York in my day were more
highly respected for indomitable energy and personal integrity than Mr.
Fish. He became President of the Tradesmen's Bank, and held other
positions of responsibility and trust. He represented an ideal type of
the self-made man, and in spite of an unknown origin and a ridiculous
name battled successfully with life without a helping hand.
In connection with the Douglas family, I recall a beautiful wedding
reception which, as well as I can remember, took place in the autumn of
1850, at Fanwood, Fort Washington, then a suburb of New York. The bride
was Fanny Monroe, a daughter of Colonel James Monroe, U.S.A., and
granddaughter of Mrs. Douglas of whose ball I have just spoken. The
groom was Douglas Robinson, a native of Scotland. It was a gorgeous
autumn day when the votaries of pleasure and fashion in New York drove
out to Fanwood, where groomsmen of social prominence stood upon the wide
portico to greet the guests and conduct them to the side of the newly
married pair. Mrs. Winfield Scott was our guest in Houston Street at the
time, but did not accompany us to the wedding as no invitation had
reached her. My presence reminded Mrs. Monroe that Mrs. Scott was in New
York, and she immediately inquired why I had not brought her with me. As
I gave the reason both Colonel and Mrs. Monroe seemed exceedingly
annoyed. It seems that her invitation had been sent to Washington but
had not been forwarded to her in New York. In those days Mrs. Scott's
distinguished presence and sparkling repartee, together with the fact
that her husband was Commander-in-Chief of the Army, added luster to
every assemblage. The Army was well represented at this reception and it
was truly "the feast of reason and the flow of soul." Colonel "Jimmy"
Monroe was a great favorite with his former brother-in-arms as he was a
genial, whole-souled and hospitable gentleman. My sister Margaret and I
were accompanied to Fanwood by an army officer, Colonel Donald Fraser, a
bachelor whom I had met some years before at West Point. The paths of
the bride and myself diverged, and it was a very long time before we met
again. It was only a few years ago, while she was residing temporarily
in Washington. She was then, however, a widow and was living in great
retirement. She is now deceased.
When we alighted from our carriage the day of the Monroe-Robinson
wedding at Fanwood a young man whom I subsequently learned was Mr.
Samuel L. Gouverneur, junior, a cousin of the bride, walked over to me,
asked my name and in his capacity of groomsman inquired whether I would
allow him to present me to the bride. I was particularly impressed by
his appearance, as it was unusually attractive. He had raven-black hair,
large bluish-gray eyes and regular features; but what added to his charm
in my youthful fancy was the fact that he had only recently returned
from the Mexican War, in which, as I learned later, he had served with
great gallantry in the 4th Artillery. I had never seen him before,
although in thinking the matter over a few days later I remembered that
I had met his mother and sister in society in New York. I did not see
him again until five years later, when our paths crossed in Washington,
and in due time I became his bride.
To return to the New York Assembly in 1841. Henry Delafield, whose name
appears on the card of invitation, belonged to a well-known family. His
father, an Englishman by birth, settled in New York in 1783 and is
described in an early city directory as "John Delafield, Insurance
Broker, 29 Water Street." The Delafields were a large family of brothers
and were highly prosperous. I remember once hearing Dr. John W. Francis
say: "Put a Delafield on a desert island in the middle of the ocean,
and he will thrive and prosper." Henry Delafield and his brother William
were almost inseparable. They were twins and strikingly alike in
appearance. General Richard Delafield, U.S.A., for many years
Superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point, was another
brother, as was also Dr. Edward Delafield, a physician of note, who
lived in Bleecker Street and in 1839 married Miss Julia Floyd of Long
Island, a granddaughter of William Floyd, one of the New York Signers.
About thirty-five years ago three of the Delafield brothers, Joseph,
Henry and Edward, all advanced in life, died within a few days of each
other and were buried in Greenwood Cemetery at the same time, the
funeral taking place from old Trinity Church. On this occasion all the
old customs were observed, and the coffins were made of solid mahogany.
[Illustration: SAMUEL L. GOUVERNEUR, JUNIOR.]
John Swift Livingston lived in Leonard Street, and I recall very
pleasantly a party which I attended at his house before the marriage of
his daughter Estelle to General John Watts de Peyster. The latter,
together with his first cousins, General "Phil" Kearny and Mrs.
Alexander Macomb, inherited an enormous fortune from his grandfather
John Watts, who was one of the most prominent men of his day and the
founder of the Leake and Watts Orphan House, which is still in
existence. John G. Leake was an Englishman who came to New York to live
and, dying without heirs, left his fortune to Robert Watts, a minor son
of John Watts. Robert Watts, however, did not long survive his
benefactor. Upon his death the Leake will was contested by his
relatives, but a decision was rendered in favor of the nearest kin of
the boy, who was his father. After gaining his victory John Watts
established this Orphan House and with true magnanimity placed Leake's
name before his own. Jacob R. LeRoy lived in Greenwich Street near the
Battery, which at this time was a fashionable section of the city.
His sister Caroline, whom I knew, became the second wife of Daniel
Webster. Mr. LeRoy's daughter Charlotte married Rev. Henry de Koven,
whose son is the musical genius, Reginald de Koven. Henry W. Hicks was
the son of a prominent Quaker merchant and a member of the firm of Hicks
& Co., which did an enormous shipping business until its suspension,
about 1847, owing to foreign business embarrassments. Thomas W. Ludlow
was a wealthy citizen, genial and most hospitably inclined. He owned a
handsome country-seat near Tarrytown, and every now and then it was his
pleasure to charter a steamboat to convey his guests thither; and I
recall several pleasant days I spent in this manner. When we reached the
Tarrytown home a fine collation always awaited us and in its wake came
music and dancing. Charles McEvers, junior, belonged to an old New York
family and was one of the executors of the Vanden Heuvel estate. His
niece, Mary McEvers, married Sir Edward Cunard, who was knighted by
Queen Victoria. William Starr Miller married a niece of Philip Schuyler,
who was a woman possessing many excellent traits of character. As far as
I can remember, she was the only divorced person of those days who was
well received in society, for people with "past histories" were then
regarded with marked disfavor.