As I Remember
the manner then prevalent, by making a fire in the chimney place on the
first floor, in order to burn out the debris. The flames fortunately
broke out on the top story, thus enabling members of the family to save
many valuable heirlooms in the lower apartments. Among the paintings
rescued and now in the possession of Frederick Philipse's daughters, the
Misses Catharine Wadsworth Philipse and Margaret Gouverneur Philipse of
New York, was the portrait of the pretty Mary Philipse, Washington's
first love. Tradition states she refused his offer of marriage to become
the bride of Roger Morris, an officer in the British Army. It is
generally believed that she was the heroine of Cooper's "Spy;" but she
had then laid aside the belleship of early youth and had become the
intellectual matron of after years. Some of the other portraits rescued
were those of Adolphus Philipse, second son of the first Lord of the
Manor; Philip Philipse, and his wife, Margaret Marston, whose second
husband was the Rev. John Ogilvie, for many years assistant minister of
Trinity Church of New York; Margaret Philipse, younger sister of Mary,
who married Roger Morris; Captain Frederick Philips, by Gilbert Stuart;
Mrs. Samuel Gouverneur; Nathaniel Marston and his wife, Mary Crooke; and
Mrs. Abraham Gouverneur who was the daughter of Jacob Leisler, at one
time the Acting Governor of the Province of New York.
One visit I made to the Philipses at Garrison's is especially fresh in
my memory, as Eleanor Jones Duer, a daughter of President William A.
Duer of Columbia College, who subsequently married George T. Wilson of
Georgia, was their guest at the same time. She was a woman of much
culture and refinement, and in every way a delightful companion. A great
intimacy existed for many years between the Gouverneurs and Philipses of
Garrison's and the Duer family of New York. The Philipses, who at this
time lived very much in the old-fashioned style, were the last of the
old families with which I was familiar to have the cloth removed after
the dessert was served; and in doing this an elegant mahogany table
always kept in a highly polished condition was displayed. Upon it were
placed the fruits, nuts and wine. Another custom in the Philipse family
which, as far as I know, was unique in this country was that of having
four meals a day. Breakfast was served at eight, luncheon at one, dinner
at six and supper at nine o'clock.
During another visit I made at The Grange I had the pleasure of meeting
Mr. and Mrs. Henry Sheaffe Hoyt (Frances Maria Duer), who were house
guests there and who had just returned from an extended European tour.
She was another daughter of President Duer of Columbia College and died
not long ago in Newport, R.I., at a very advanced age. Mrs. John King
Van Rensselaer, a daughter of Mrs. Archibald Gracie King (Elizabeth
Denning Duer), is her niece.
Before leaving the banks of the Hudson River I must speak of my former
associations with Newburgh. From my earliest life we children were in
the habit of making frequent visits to my mother's relatives, the Roe
family, who resided there. We all eagerly looked forward to these trips
up the Hudson which were made upon the old _Thomas Powell_ and later
upon the _Mary Powell_. My mother's relative, Maria Hazard, married
William Roe, one of the most highly respected and prosperous citizens of
Newburgh. They lived in a stately mansion surrounded by several acres
of land in the heart of the city. Mrs. Roe was a remarkable woman. I
knew her only as an elderly matron; but, like women of advanced age in
China, where I spent a number of years of my early married life, she
controlled everyone who came within her "sphere of influence." I
remember, for example, that upon one occasion when I was visiting her,
Thomas Hazard Roe, her elder son, who at the time was over sixty years
of age and a bachelor and who desired to go upon some hunting
expedition, said to her: "Mother, have I your permission to go to the
Adirondacks?" She thought for a few moments and replied: "Well, Hazard,
I think you might go."
About the year 1840 Newburgh was recommended by two of the earliest
prominent homeopathic physicians of New York City, Doctors John F. Gray
and Amos G. Hull, as a locality well-adapted to people affected with
delicate lungs, and upon their advice many families built handsome
residences there. In my early recollection Newburgh had a fine hotel
called the Powelton, which bade fair to become a prominent resort for
New Yorkers. In the zenith of its prosperity, however, it was burned to
the ground and was never rebuilt. I hardly think that anyone will have
the assurance to dispute the healthfulness of this place when I state
that my cousin, Thomas Hazard Roe, of whom I have just spoken, died
there in 1907 after having more than rounded a full century of years. He
was in many ways a remarkable man with a mind well stored with
knowledge, and he retained all of his mental faculties unclouded until
the end of his life. His sister, Mary Elizabeth, the widow of the late
William C. Hasbrouck, a prominent Newburgh lawyer and a few years his
junior, also died quite recently in Newburgh at the age of ninety-seven.
Her son, General Henry C. Hasbrouck, U.S.A., also died but a short time
since, but her daughter, Miss Maria Hasbrouck, whose whole life has been
devoted to her family, still resides in the old homestead. The third
and youngest member of this interesting trio, Miss Emily Maria Roe, is
now living in Newburgh at an advanced age, surrounded by a large
connection and beloved by everyone.
One of the most prominent families in Newburgh in years gone by was that
of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Powell, from whom the celebrated river boats were
named. Mrs. Powell's maiden name was Mary Ludlow, and she belonged to a
well-known New York family. Her brother, Lieutenant Augustus C. Ludlow,
who was second in command on board the _Chesapeake_, under Captain James
Lawrence of "Don't give up the ship" fame, is buried by the latter's
side in old Trinity church-yard in New York. Mrs. Powell took great
pride and pleasure in the boat named in her honor, the _Mary Powell_,
and I have frequently seen her upon my trips up the Hudson, sitting upon
the deck of her namesake and chatting pleasantly with those around her.
Newburgh was also the home of Andrew Jackson Downing, the author of
"Landscape Gardening," "Cottage Residences," and other similar works. I
received my first knowledge of horticulture from a visit I made to his
beautiful residence, which was surrounded by several acres. It was my
earliest view of nature assisted by art, and to my untutored eye his
lawn was a veritable Paradise. Some years later, when I was visiting the
Scotts in Washington, Mr. Downing called and during our conversation
told me that he had come to the Capital, upon the invitation of the
government, to lay out the Smithsonian grounds. His wife was Miss
Caroline De Wint of Fishkill, New York, a granddaughter of Mrs. Henry
William Smith (Abigail Adams), the only daughter of President John Adams
who reached maturity. After spending some months in Washington, Mr.
Downing was returning to his Newburgh home when the _Henry Clay_, a
Hudson River steamboat upon which he had taken passage, was destroyed
by fire and he perished while attempting to rescue some of the
passengers. This was in 1852.
There are some persons still living who will readily recall, in
connection with social functions, the not uncommon name of Brown. The
particular Brown to whom I refer was the sexton of Grace Episcopal
Church, on the corner of Broadway and Tenth Street, where many of the
_soi-disant creme de la creme_ worshiped. He must have possessed a
christian name, but if so I never heard it for he was only plain Brown,
and Brown he was called. He was born before the days when spurious
genealogical charts are thrust at one, _nolens volens_; but probably
this was lucky for him and the public was spared much that is
uninteresting. In connection with his duties at Grace Church he came in
contact with many fashionable people, and was enabled to add materially
to his rather small income by calling carriages from the doorsteps for
the society folk of the great metropolis. In this and other ways his
pursuits gradually became so varied that in time he might have been
safely classed among the _dilettanti_. The most remarkable feature of
his career, however, was the fact that, in spite of his humble calling,
he became a veritable social dictator, and many an ambitious mother with
a thousand-dollar ball upon her hands (this being about the usual sum
spent upon an evening entertainment at that time), lacked the courage to
embark upon such a venture without first seeking an interview with
Brown. I knew but little about his powers of discrimination, as we as a
family never found his services necessary, but when requested I know he
furnished to these dependent hostesses lists of eligible young men whom
he deemed proficient in the polka and mazurka, the fashionable dances of
the day. Strange as it may appear, I can vouch for the truth of the
statement that many an exclusive hostess was glad to avail herself of
these lists of the accommodating Brown. The dances just mentioned were,
by the way, introduced into this country by Pierro Saracco, an Italian
master who taught me to dance, and who was quite popular in the
fashionable circles of his day. Many years later, when I was residing in
Maryland, he came to Frederick several times a week and gave dancing
lessons to my two older daughters.
Brown was a pleasant, genial, decidedly "hail-fellow-well-met" man, as I
remember him, and was in a way the precursor of Ward McAllister, though
of course on a decidedly more unpretentious plane. One cannot but
express surprise at the consideration with which Brown's _proteges_ were
treated by the _elite_, nor can one deny that the social destinies of
many young men were the direct result of his strenuous efforts. I
remember, for example, one of these who at the time was "a youth to
fortune and to fame unknown," whom Brown took under his sheltering wing
and whose subsequent social career was shaped by him. He is of foreign
birth, with a pleasing exterior and address and, through the
instrumentality of his humble friend who gave him his first start, is
to-day, although advanced in life, one of the most conspicuous
financiers in New York, and occasionally has private audiences with
presidents and other magnates. Moreover, I feel certain that he will
welcome this humble tribute to his benefactor with much delight, as the
halo which now surrounds his brow he owes in a large degree to his early
introduction into the smart set by the sexton of Grace Church. The last
I ever heard of Brown, he visited Europe. After his return from his
well-earned holiday he died and was laid to rest in his own native soil.
Peace to Brown's ashes--his work was well done! It cannot be said of
him, as of many others, that he lived in vain, as he was doubtless the
forerunner of the later and more accomplished leader and dictator of New
York's "Four Hundred."
A poetaster paid him the following facetious tribute:
Oh, glorious Brown, thou medley strange
Of churchyard, ballroom, saint, and sinner,
Flying by morn through fashion's range
And burying mortals after dinner.
Walking one day with invitations,
Passing the next at consecrations,
Tossing the sod at eve on coffins,
With one hand drying tears of orphans,
And one unclasping ballroom carriage,
Or cutting plumcake up for marriage;
Dusting by day the pew and missal,
Sounding by night the ballroom whistle,
Admitted free through fashion's wicket,
And skilled at psalms, at punch, and cricket.