Читать книгу As I Remember - Marian Gouverneur - Страница 16

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My health was somewhat impaired by an attack of chills and fever while I was still a pupil at Madame Chegaray's school. Long Island was especially affected with this malady, and even certain locations on the Hudson were on this account regarded with disfavor. In subsequent years, when the building operations of the Hudson River railroad cut off the water in many places and formed stagnant pools, it became much worse. As I began to convalesce, Dr. John W. Francis prescribed a change of air, and I was accordingly sent to Saratoga to be under the care of my friend, Mrs. Richard Armistead of North Carolina. A few days after my arrival we were joined by Mrs. De Witt Clinton and her attractive step-daughter, Julia Clinton. The United States Hotel, where we stayed, was thronged with visitors, but as I was only a young girl my observation of social life was naturally limited and I knew but few persons. Mrs. Clinton was a granddaughter of Philip Livingston, the Signer, and married at a mature age. She had a natural and most profound admiration for the memory of her illustrious husband, whom I have heard her describe as "a prince among men," and she cherished an undying resentment for any of his political antagonists.

While we were still at the United States Hotel, Martin Van Buren, at that time President of the United States, arrived in Saratoga and sojourned at the same hotel with us. His visit made an indelible impression upon my memory owing to a highly sensational incident. During the evening of the President's arrival Mrs. Clinton was promenading in the large parlor of the hotel, leaning upon the arm of the Portuguese Chargé d'Affaires, Senhor Joaquim Cesar de Figanière, when Mr. Van Buren espying her advanced with his usual suavity of manner to meet her. With a smile upon his face, he extended his hand, whereupon Mrs. Clinton immediately turned her back and compelled her escort to imitate her, apparently ignoring the fact that he was a foreign diplomat and that his conduct might subsequently be resented by the authorities in Washington. This incident, occurring as it did in a crowded room, was observed by many of the guests and naturally created much comment. In talking over the incident the next day Mrs. Clinton told me she was under the impression that Mr. Van Buren clearly understood her feelings in regard to him, as some years previous, when he and General Andrew Jackson called upon her together, she had declined to see him, although Jackson had been admitted. This act was characteristic of the woman. It was the expression of a resentment which she had harbored against Mr. Van Buren for years and which she was only abiding her time to display. I was standing at Mrs. Clinton's side during this dramatic episode, and to my youthful fancy she seemed, indeed, a heroine!

Mrs. Clinton was a social leader in Gotham before the days of the nouveaux riches, and her sway was that of an autocrat. Her presence was in every way imposing. She possessed many charming characteristics and was in more respects than one an uncrowned queen, retaining her wonderful tact and social power until the day of her death. I love to dwell upon Mrs. Clinton because, apart from her remarkable personal characteristics, she was the friend of my earlier life. Possessed as she was of many eccentricities, her excellencies far counterbalanced them. Of the latter, I recall especially the unusual ability and care she displayed in housekeeping, which at that time was regarded as an accomplishment in which every woman took particular pride. To be still more specific, she apparently had a much greater horror of dirt than the average housewife, and carried her antipathy to such an extent that she tolerated but few fires in her University Place establishment in New York, as she seriously objected to the uncleanness caused by the dust and ashes! No matter how cold her house nor how frigid the day, she never seemed to suffer but, on the contrary, complained that her home was overheated. Her guests frequently commented upon "the nipping and eager air" which Shakespeare's Horatio speaks of, but it made no apparent impression upon their hostess.

Mrs. Clinton's articulation was affected by a slight stammer, which, in my opinion, but added piquancy to her epigrammatic sayings. She once remarked to me, "I shall never be c-c-cold until I'm dead." An impulse took possession of me which somehow, in spite of the great difference in our ages, I seemed unable to resist, and I retorted, "We are not all assured of our temperatures at that period." She regarded me for a few moments with unfeigned astonishment, but said nothing. I did not suffer for my temerity at that moment, but later I was chagrined to learn she had remarked that I was the most impertinent girl she had ever known. I remember that upon another occasion she told me that one of Governor Clinton's grandchildren, Augusta Clinton, was about to leave school at a very early age. "Doesn't she intend to finish her education?" I inquired. "No," was the quick and emphatic but stuttering reply, "she's had sufficient education. I was at school only two months, and I'm sure I'm smart enough." Her niece, Margaret Gelston, who was present and was remarkable for her clear wits, retorted: "Only think how much smarter you'd have been if you had remained longer." In an angry tone Mrs. Clinton replied, "I don't want to be any smarter, I'm smart enough."

Mrs. Clinton's two nieces, the Misses Mary and Margaret Gelston, were among my earliest and most intimate friends. They occupied a prominent social position in New York and both were well known for their unusual intellectuality. They were daughters of Maltby Gelston, President of the Manhattan Bank, and granddaughters of David Gelston, who was appointed Collector of the Port of New York by Jefferson and retained that position for twenty years. Late in life Mary Gelston married Henry R. Winthrop of New York. She died a few years ago leaving an immense estate to Princeton Theological Seminary. "I pray," reads her will, "that the Trustees of this Institution may make such use of this bequest as that the extension of the Church of Christ on earth and the glory of God may be promoted thereby." In the same instrument she adds: "As a similar bequest would have been made by my deceased sister, Margaret L. Gelston, had she survived me, I desire that the said Trustees should regard it as given jointly by my said sister and by me." Some distant relatives, thinking that her money could be more satisfactorily employed than in the manner indicated, contested the will, and the Seminary finally received, as the result of a compromise, between $1,600,000 and $1,700,000.

One of my earliest recollections is of John Jacob Astor, a feeble old man descending the doorsteps of his home on Broadway near Houston Street to enter his carriage. His house was exceedingly plain and was one of a row owned by him. His son, William Backhouse Astor, who married a daughter of General John Armstrong, Secretary of War under President Madison, during at least a portion of his father's life lived in a fine house on Lafayette Place. I have attended evening parties there that were exceedingly simple in character, and at which Mrs. Astor was always plainly dressed and wore no jewels. I have a very distinct recollection of one of these parties owing to a ludicrous incident connected with myself. My mother was a woman of decidedly domestic tastes, whose whole life was so immersed in her large family of children that she never allowed an event of a social character to interfere with what she regarded as her household or maternal duties. We older children were therefore much thrown upon our own resources from a social point of view, and when I grew into womanhood and entered society I was usually accompanied to entertainments by my father. Sometimes, however, I went with my lifelong friend, Margaret Tillotson Kemble, a daughter of William Kemble, of whom I shall speak hereafter. Upon this particular occasion I had gone early in the day to the Kembles preparatory to spending the night there, with the intention of attending a ball at the Astors'. Having dined, supped, and dressed myself for the occasion, in company with Miss Kemble and her father I reached the Astor residence, where I found on the doorstep an Irish maid from my own home awaiting my arrival. In her hand she held an exquisite bouquet of pink and white japonicas which had been sent to me by John Still Winthrop, the fiancé of Susan Armistead, another of my intimate friends. The bouquet had arrived just after my departure from home and, quite unknown to my family, the Irish maid out of the goodness of her heart had taken it upon herself to see that it was placed in my hands. I learned later that, much to the amusement of many of the guests, she had been awaiting my arrival for several hours. It seems almost needless to add that I carried my flowers throughout the evening with much girlish pride and pleasure.

Among the guests at this ball was Mrs. Francis R. Boreel, the young and beautiful daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Walter Langdon, who wore in her dark hair a diamond necklace, a recent gift from her grandfather, John Jacob Astor. It was currently rumored at the time that it cost twenty thousand dollars, which was then a very large amount to invest in a single article of that character. Mrs. Langdon's two other daughters were Mrs. Matthew Wilks, who married abroad and spent her life there, and the first Mrs. De Lancey Kane, who made a runaway match, and both of whom left descendants in New York. All three women were celebrated for their beauty, but Mrs. Boreel was usually regarded as the handsomest of the trio. Mrs. Walter Langdon was Dorothea Astor, a daughter of John Jacob Astor, and her husband was a grandson of Judge John Langdon of New Hampshire, who equipped Stark's regiment for the battle of Bennington, and who for twelve years was a member of the United States Senate and was present as President pro tempore of that body at the first inauguration of Washington.

Another society woman whose presence at this ball I recall, and without whom no entertainment was regarded as complete, was Mrs. Charles Augustus Davis, wife of the author of the well-known "Jack Downing Letters." Indeed, the name "Jack Downing" seemed so much a part of the Davis family that in after years I have often heard Mrs. Davis called "Mrs. Jack Downing." The Davises had a handsome daughter who married a gentleman of French descent, but neither of them long survived the marriage.

In an old newspaper of 1807 I came across the following marriage notice, which was the first Astor wedding to occur in this country: