As I Remember
should remain at his post of duty until the arrival of his successor,
and he decided to do so. During these days of uncertainty, however, my
husband deemed it wise that, if possible, I should return with the
children on a ship sailing under the protection of the British flag, and
I quite agreed with him. In due time the favorable opportunity presented
itself, and I embarked for America in the British merchantman _Mirage_.
The wisdom of Mr. Gouverneur's judgment was fully confirmed, as the next
American vessel sailing from Foo Chow after my departure was captured by
a Confederate privateer. When I went to China I took two little girls
with me, and returned with three. At the birth of the last daughter we
named her "Rose de Chine," in order to identify her more intimately with
the land of her nativity. Soon after her birth, several Chinese asked
me: "How many girls do you keep?"
We were the only passengers on the _Mirage_ and, besides having very
superior accommodations on board, we were treated with every
consideration by its captain. We were three months upon the homeward
voyage and the captain called it smooth sailing. We fell in with many
vessels _en route_ and, to quote our skipper, we found them "like human
beings, some very friendly and others stern and curt." When in mid-ocean
we passed an American vessel, the _Anna Decatur_, which seemed like a
welcome from home as it was named after a former New York friend of
mine, Anna Pine Decatur, a niece of Commodore Stephen Decatur, who
married Captain William H. Parsons of the merchant service. Lieutenant
Stephen Decatur, U.S.N., a brother of Anna Pine Decatur, was a constant
visitor at our house in Houston Street in my young days. During one of
his cruises he was stricken with a serious illness which resulted in
total blindness. He subsequently married but, although he never had the
pleasure of seeing his wife and children, his genial nature was not
changed by his affliction. In 1869 he became a Commodore on the retired
list, but some of the family connection objected to his use of this
title, as in their opinion the world should recognize only one Commodore
Stephen Decatur, the naval hero of 1812.
As we neared New York harbor I became decidedly impatient and was
congratulating myself one morning that our long voyage was almost over,
when I noticed that the usually pleasant expression on the captain's
face had changed to one of extreme anxiety. I inquired: "What is wrong,
Captain?" and to my dismay he replied: "Everything!" He then told me we
were just outside the pilot grounds, but that in all his experience,
even in Chinese waters, he had never known the barometer to fall so low;
and, to add to his anxiety, there was no pilot within sight! It was a
very cold February morning, the thermometer having reached the zero
mark, and I went at once to my cabin to prepare for the worst. The
captain meanwhile commenced to make preparations for a severe storm, but
before we realized it the tempest was upon us and our vessel was blown
far out to sea, where for three days we were at the mercy of the
elements. The rudder was tied, the hatches battened down and there was
nothing left to do but to sit with folded hands and trust to that
Providence whom even the waters obey.
I remember sitting in my stateroom one of those terrible nights entirely
alone and without even the comforting sound of a human voice. Our life
preservers were within reach, but I fully realized that they would be of
but little avail in such a raging sea. During those anxious moments,
with my little children sound asleep in the adjoining cabin and quite
oblivious of impending danger, I wondered whether it would be my destiny
to close my earthly career on Rockaway Beach, near the spot where I had
first seen the light of day; but soon after those anxious moments I was
indeed grateful, as the captain told me that if the wind had been in
another quarter all of us would have perished within a few hours.
Gradually the winds and storm ceased and, the waters becoming calmer, we
finally reached our haven without even being subjected to the annoying
presence of a Custom House official, as the high seas had prevented his
visit. When I reached land I learned that the awful storm had extended
along the whole eastern coast and had carried death and devastation in
its track. The children and I were driven to my mother's late residence,
57 West Thirty-sixth Street, but she was no longer there to greet me, as
she had passed into the Great Beyond the year before my return; but my
sister Charlotte and my brother Malcolm were still living there, both of
whom were unmarried. I had received such kindness from the captain of
the _Mirage_ during the homeward voyage that I felt I should like to
make some fitting return, and accordingly his wife and daughter became
my guests.
CHAPTER XIII
THE CIVIL WAR AND LIFE IN MARYLAND
As the time passed I became somewhat anxious over the delay in Mr.
Gouverneur's return to this country. It seems, however, that, with
neither of us knowing it, we were upon the sea at the same time. His
homeward voyage was made by the way of the Isthmus of Suez and
Marseilles. For a while it seemed difficult for either of us to realize
that we were in our own country once more, as the Civil War had turned
everything and everybody topsy turvy. When we left the country, party
animosities were pitched to a high key, but the possibility of a
gigantic civil war as a solution of political problems would have been
regarded as preposterous. On our return, however, the country was wild
with excitement over an armed struggle, the eventual magnitude of which
no one had yet dreamed of. Newly equipped regiments were constantly
passing in our vicinity for the seat of war, the national ensign and
other emblems of loyalty were displayed on every hand and a martial
spirit pervaded the very atmosphere. The war was the one important topic
of conversation at homes, in the streets and in places of business. The
passions of the people were so thoroughly aroused that they were
frequently expressed in severe denunciation of any who presumed to
entertain conservative views of the situation of affairs and who still
hoped for conciliation and peace. Suspicions were often created by
trivial but well-intended acts or remarks that were susceptible of a
double construction, and loyal sentiment was often so pronounced in its
denunciation of the South that no word or remark could be tolerated
that by any possibility could be construed as a criticism of the
administration, a disapproval of the war or of any detail relating to
its conduct. For example, not long after our return from China, while
Mr. Gouverneur and I were visiting my sister, Mrs. Eames, in Washington,
we were watching one day a newly equipped regiment from Vermont while
passing her residence _en route_ for the seat of war, when Mr. Eames
remarked, "Gouverneur, isn't that a fine regiment?" My husband, who then
and always thereafter was thoroughly loyal to the cause of the Union,
but whose military training had made him familiar with the precise
tactics and evolutions of regular troops, replied: "They need training,"
when Mr. Eames, with much warmth of feeling, exclaimed: "You are a
secessionist, sir!"
That, however, represented but a mild state of feeling compared with
that sometimes entertained between those who were loyal to the Union and
others who sympathized with the South. I recall one conspicuous instance
where such antagonistic views resulted in personal animosity that
severed tender personal relations of long standing. When I left the
country a lifelong intimacy had existed between Mrs. Charles Vanden
Heuvel, a granddaughter of Robert Morris, the great financier of the
Revolution, and Mrs. George Gibbs, granddaughter of the Connecticut
statesman, Oliver Wolcott; but after the outbreak of the war these two
elderly women differed so radically in their views concerning the
conflict that, for a period, their personal relations were severed. The
spirit of toleration was so utterly lacking in both the North and the
South that even those allied by ties of blood were estranged, and a
spirit of bitter resentment and crimination everywhere prevailed. This
state of feeling, under the circumstances, was doubtless inevitable, but
it emphasized better than almost anything else, except bloodshed itself,
the truth of General Sherman's declaration that "War is Hell!"
The animosities engendered by the war ruptured family ties and familiar
associations in Maryland much more completely than in the North. One of
the Needwood families was that of Outerbridge Horsey, who was a
pronounced Southern sympathizer, while not far away at Mount O'Donnell,
a superb old estate, lived General Columbus O'Donnell, who ardently
espoused the cause of the Union. Mr. Horsey had a son born just after a
Southern victory whom he named Robert Victor Lee; but later, after a
Confederate defeat, General O'Donnell suggested that the name be changed
to Robert "Skedaddle" Lee, whereupon Mr. Horsey retorted that he thought
the name of a grandchild of General O'Donnell might appropriately be
changed to George "Retreat" McClellan. Of Charles Oliver O'Donnell, one
of the General's sons, I retain the pleasantest memories. He was a
gentleman of attractive personality and a genial nature. His first wife
was Lucinia de Sodre, daughter of Luis Pereira de Sodre, who at the time
of his daughter's marriage was the Brazilian Minister in Washington. Mr.
O'Donnell's second wife was Miss Helen Sophia Carroll of Baltimore.
After remaining a few months in New York and a shorter period in
Washington, we visited Mr. Gouverneur's father, who was still living at
Needwood in Maryland. Here we found a radical change of scene, for we
were now in close proximity to the seat of war. On our journey southward
we were somewhat delayed by the rumor that General Lee was about to
enter Maryland, rendering it necessary for us to procure passes, which
was accomplished through the courtesy of General Edward Shriver, a
native of Frederick, who held at the time an important official position
in Baltimore. We had thought when we arrived in New York that public
feeling ran high, but it was mild compared with our observations and
experiences in Maryland, and we never dared to predict what a day would
bring forth. Mr. Gouverneur's father was a pronounced Northern man, but
his wife's relatives, as well as most of his neighbors, sympathized with
the South. Soon after the outbreak of the war, while we were yet in
China, and at the period when Maryland was wavering between the North
and South, and to anxious spectators secession seemed almost inevitable,
my father-in-law and ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas left one morning on a
hurried trip to Frederick, where the State Legislature was convened in
special session, instead of at the State Capitol in Annapolis, which was
then occupied by Union troops. A report had reached them that the
legislature would probably declare for secession and call a convention
to take into consideration an ordinance for the accomplishment of that
end, and they desired to exert whatever influence they could command to
retain the State in the Union. The national administration, however, was
equally alert, and a measure much more effective, in this instance, than
moral suasion was employed to defeat the adherents of the Southern
cause. General John A. Dix arrested ten members-elect of the State
Legislature, the mayor of Baltimore, a congressman and two editors;
while in Frederick, General Nathaniel P. Banks took into custody nine