As I Remember
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 _edition 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 Deslonde, 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