CHAPTER I
EARLY LONG ISLAND DAYS
I do not know of a spot where, had I been accorded the selection, I
should have preferred first to see the light of day, nor one more in
keeping with the promptings of sentiment, than the southern shore of
Long Island, N.Y., where I was born. My home was in Queens County, on
the old Rockaway Road, and often in childhood during storms at sea I
have heard the waves dash upon the Rockaway beach. Two miles the other
side of us was the village of Jamaica, and from our windows we caught
glimpses of the bay that bore its name. My first home was a large
old-fashioned house on a farm of many acres, ornamented by Lombardy
poplars which stood on each side of the driveway, a fashion introduced
into this country by Lafayette. My maternal grandfather, Captain John
Hazard, who had commanded a privateersman during the Revolution,
purchased the place from "Citizen" Edmond Charles Genet, the first
Minister of France to the United States, and I have the old parchment
deed of transfer still in my possession. During the War of the
Revolution my Grandfather Hazard's ship was captured by Admiral George
B. Rodney, and I have often heard my mother tell the story she received
from his lips, to the effect that after he was "comfortably housed in
irons" on Rodney's ship he overheard a conversation in which his name
was frequently mentioned. The subject under discussion was the form of
punishment he deserved, and the cheerful remark reached his ear: "Hang
the damned rebel." This incident made an indelible impression upon my
mother's memory, which was emphasized by the fact that her father bore
the scars of those irons to the day of his death.
I have no recollection of my Grandfather Hazard, as he died soon after
my birth. Jonathan Hazard, his brother, espoused the English cause
during the Revolution. This was possibly due to the influences of an
English mother, whose maiden name was Sarah Owen, of Shropshire. I have
heard my mother say that her grandmother was a descendant of Dr. John
Owen, Chaplain of Oliver Cromwell. A piece of silver bearing the Owen
coat of arms is still in the possession of a member of my family. He
entered the British navy, changed his name to Carr, and soon rose to the
rank of Post-Captain. He eventually drifted back to America and died
unmarried at my grandfather's home on Long Island many years after the
war. The trite saying that history repeats itself is here forcibly
illustrated by brother fighting against brother. It brings to mind our
own fraternal troubles during the Civil War, which can never be effaced
from memory.
Much of the furniture of my first home was purchased from Citizen Genet
when my grandfather took possession of the house and farm. We understood
that the French minister brought it with him from France, and many of
the pieces, some of which are mahogany, are still in my possession. A
bedstead which I still occupy has been said to be the first of its
design brought from France to this country. Hanging in my bedroom is a
set of engravings entitled "Diligence and Dissipation," after Hogarth,
and also a handsome old print of the Savior in the Pharisee's House, all
of which were purchased at the same time. Two alabaster ornaments are
memories of my earliest childhood, one of which was a column casting a
shadow that formed a likeness of Louis XVI.
My Grandfather Hazard had many slaves, and I remember hearing of one of
them who ran away and took with him a carriage and pair of horses, and,
who, when called to account for the act, threatened my grandfather's
life. My mother, although suffering from a severe indisposition, ran out
of the house for succor. The slave was taken into custody, and was
eventually sent South and sold. Some of the other slaves I well
remember. Among them was a very old couple with numerous progeny who
lived not far from us in a hut in the woods on the Hazard estate. In
subsequent years I heard my mother remark, upon the occasion of a
marriage in the family connection, that when "Cuff" and "Sary" were
married her father gave the clergyman five dollars for his services.
Cuff was an old-fashioned, festive negro born in this country, and with
the firm belief that existence was bestowed upon him solely for his own
enjoyment. He possessed a genius for discovering holidays, and added
many to the calendar that were new to most of us. For example, sometimes
when he was given a task to accomplish, he would announce that he could
not work upon that day as it was "Paas Monday," or "Paas Tuesday," and
so on, continuing as the case required, through the week. He had supreme
contempt for what he called "Guinea niggers," a term he applied to those
of his race who came directly from Africa, in contradistinction to those
who had been born in this country. One of Cuff's predecessors in the
Hazard family was named Ben, and I have the original deed of his
purchase from Hendrick Suydam, dated April 28th, 1807. The price paid
was two hundred dollars.
In the village of Jamaica was a well known academy where my mother
received the early part of her education. One of her preceptors there
was the Hon. Luther Bradish, who some years later became Lieutenant
Governor of the State of New York, and who at the time of his death was
president of the New York Historical Society. Her education was
continued at Miss Sarah Pierce's school in Litchfield, Connecticut, one
of the most fashionable educational institutions of that period. I have
heard my mother say that, accompanied by her father, she made the
journey to Litchfield in a chariot, the name applied to carriages in
those days, this, of course, being before there was any rail
communication with that place. In close proximity to Miss Pierce's
establishment was the law school of Judge James Gould, whose pupils were
a great social resource to Miss Pierce's scholars. This institution was
patronized by many pupils from the South, and during my mother's time
John C. Calhoun was one of its students. A few years ago a history of
the school was published, and a copy of the book was loaned me by the
late Mrs. Lucius Tuckerman of Washington, whose mother was educated
there and whose grandfather was the celebrated Oliver Wolcott of
Connecticut. After my mother's marriage, she and my father visited Miss
Pierce in Litchfield. This was during the Jackson campaign, while
political excitement ran so very high that a prominent physician of the
place remarked to my father, in perfectly good faith, that Jackson could
not possibly be elected President as he would receive no support from
Litchfield.
In Jamaica was the last residence of the Honorable Rufus King, our
minister to England under Washington and twenty years later a candidate
for the presidency. His son, Charles King, was the beloved President of
Columbia College in New York, and his few surviving students hold his
memory in reverence. The house in which the King family resided was a
stately structure with an _entourage_ of fine old trees. It eventually
passed into other hands, and a few years ago the entire property was
generously donated by the Daughters of the American Revolution to the
town of Jamaica, and is now called "King's Manor."
My grandfather, Captain John Hazard, was about fifty years old at the
time of his marriage to my grandmother, Miss Leupp, of New Jersey, who
died soon after, leaving an only child, my mother. A few years later he
married Lydia Blackwell at her home on Blackwell's Island, which her
father, Jacob Blackwell, had inherited from his father, Jacob Blackwell,
the son of Robert Blackwell, who was the progenitor of the family in
this country and gave his name to the island upon which he resided.
Several years later Captain Hazard was heard to remark that matrimony
was a lottery, and that he had drawn two prizes. I have in my possession
an old letter written by Miss Blackwell to my grandfather previous to
their marriage, which is so quaint and formal that I am tempted to give
it in full:
Miss Blackwell's compliments to Captain Hazard and desires
to know how he does--and if well enough will be glad to see
him the first leisure day--as she has something of
consequence to communicate and is sorry to hear that he has
been so much indisposed as to deprive his friends of the
pleasure of his company for this last fortnight--May you
enjoy every happiness this imperfect estate affords is the
sincere wish of your friend,
L. B.
Let me see you on Sunday.
Burn this.
Captain Hazard brought his new bride to the old home on the Rockaway
Road where I was subsequently born, and she immediately took under her
protecting wing my mother, who was then but little more than an infant.
The babe grew and thrived, and never knew until she was a good-sized
girl that the woman who had so lovingly nurtured her was only a
step-mother. She learned the fact from a schoolmate who told her out of
revenge for some fancied wrong; and I shall always remember my mother
telling me how she hurried home feeling all the time that the cruel
story was untrue, only to have it confirmed by the lips of the woman who
had been as affectionate and unselfish as any mother could possibly have
been to her own child. In subsequent years, when my mother gathered her
own children around her, she held her step-mother up to us as the
embodiment of all female virtue and excellence, all of which is
confirmed by my own recollection of her remarkable character and
exemplary life.
On the farm adjoining us lived a crusty old bachelor by the name of
Martin, who in his earlier life had been professionally associated with
Aaron Burr. No human being was allowed to cross his threshold, but I
recall that years after his death I saw a large quantity of silver which
he had inherited, and which bore a martin for a crest. He was a terror
to all the children in our vicinity, and it was his habit to walk on the
neighboring roads clad in a dressing gown. More than once as I passed
him he accosted me with the interrogative, "Are you Nancy Hazard's
brat?"--a query that invariably prompted me to quicken my pace. Mr.
Martin kept a fine herd of cattle, among which was an obstreperous bull
whose stentorian tones were familiar to all the residents of the
adjoining places. When the children of our household were turbulent my
mother would often exclaim, "Listen to Martin's bull roaring!" This
invariably had a soothing effect upon the children, and strange to say
this trivial incident has descended among my kindred to the fourth
generation, for my mother's great-grandchildren are as familiar with
"Martin's bull" as my sisters and brothers and I were in our own
childhood.
Malcolm Campbell, my paternal grandfather, left Scotland subsequently to
our Revolution, accompanied by his wife and son James (my father), and
after a passage of several weeks landed in New York. His wife was Miss
Lucy McClellan. His father, Alexander Campbell, fought in the battle of
Culloden, and I have heard my father say that his grandfather's regiment
marched to the song of:
"Who wadna fight for Charlie?
Who wadna draw the sword?
Who wadna up and rally,
At their royal prince's word?
Think on Scotia's ancient heroes,
Think on foreign foes repell'd,
Think on glorious Bruce and Wallace,
Who the proud usurpers quell'd."
It is said he had previously been sent to Italy to collect arms and
ammunition for the "Young Pretender," the grandson of James II. The
battle of Culloden, which was fought on the 16th of April, 1746, and
which has often been called the "Culloden Massacre," caused the whole
civilized world to stand aghast. The order of the Duke of Cumberland to
grant no quarter to prisoners placed him foremost in the ranks of
"British beasts" that have disgraced the pages of history, and earned
for him the unenviable title of "The Butcher of Culloden." It has been
suggested in extenuation of his fiendish conduct that His Grace was
"deep in his cups" the night before the battle, and that the General to
whom the order was given, realizing the condition of the Duke, insisted
that his instructions should be reduced to writing. His Grace thereupon
angrily seized a playing card from the table where he was engaged in
gambling, and complied with the request. This card happened to be the
nine of diamonds, and to this day is known as "the curse of Scotland." A
long period elapsed before those who had sympathized with the Young
Pretender's cause were restored to the good graces of the English
throne, and it was Scotland that was compelled to bear the brunt of the
royal displeasure. The sins of the fathers were visited upon their
children, and it is not at all unlikely that the sympathies of Alexander
Campbell's son, Malcolm (my grandfather), for the last of the House of
Stuart developed a chain of circumstances that resulted, with other
causes, in his embarkation for America.
During the early period of my childhood I became familiar with the
Jacobite songs which my father used to sing, and which had been handed
down in the Campbell family. I was so deeply imbued during my early life
with the Jacobite spirit of my forefathers that when I read the account
in my English history of George I, carrying with him his little
dissolute Hanoverian Court and crossing the water to England to become
King of Great Britain, I felt even at that late day that the act was a
personal grievance. Through the passage of many years a fragment of one
of these Jacobite songs still rings in my ears:
"There's nae luck aboot the hoose,
There's nae luck ava [at all];
There's little pleasure in the hoose
When our gude man's awa."
Even now some of those songs appeal to me possibly in the same manner as
the "Marseillaise" to the French, or the "Ranz de Vaches" to the Swiss
who have wandered from their mountain homes, or as the strains of our
national hymn affect my own fellow countrymen in foreign lands, whose
hearts are made to throb when with uncovered heads they listen, and are
carried back in memory to the days of "auld lang syne."
My grandfather, Malcolm Campbell, received the degree of Master of Arts
from the University of St. Andrews, the great school of Scottish
Latinity, and his diploma conferring upon him that honor is still in the
possession of his descendants. Before leaving Scotland he had formed an
intimacy with Andrew Picken, and during the voyage to America enjoyed
the pleasing companionship of that gentleman together with his wife and
their two children. Mrs. Picken was the only daughter of Sir Charles
Burdette of London, whose wife was the daughter of the Earl of Wyndham.
She and Andrew Picken, who was a native of Stewarton, in Ayrshire, a
younger branch of a noble family, four years previously had made a
clandestine marriage and, after vainly attempting to effect a
reconciliation with her father, resolved upon emigrating to America.
Their daughter, Mrs. Sara Jane Picken Cohen, widow of the Rev. Dr.
Abraham H. Cohen of Richmond, Virginia, wrote the memoirs of her life,
and in describing her parents' voyage to this country says: "It was one
of those old-time voyages, of nine weeks and three days, from land to
land, and a very boisterous one it was. There had been a terrific storm,
which had raged violently for several days." This friendship formed in
the mother country was naturally much strengthened during the long
voyage, and when the two families finally reached New York, Mrs. Cohen
writes: "Here we settled down our two families, strangers in a strange
land. But the lamp of friendship burned brightly and lit us on the way;
our children grew up together in early childhood, and as brothers and
sisters were born in each family they were named in succession after
each other." It is pleasant to state that this friendship formed so many
generations ago is still continued in my family, as my daughters and I
frequently enjoy in our Washington home the pleasing society of Mr. and
Mrs. Roberdeau Buchanan, the latter of whom is the great granddaughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Picken.
Soon after his arrival in New York Malcolm Campbell established a
classical school at 85 Broadway nearly opposite Trinity Church. He
edited the first American edition of Cicero's orations and of Cæsar's
commentaries, and also revised and corrected and published in 1808
l'Abbé Tardy's French dictionary. His first edition of Cicero is
dedicated to the "Right Reverend Benjamin Moore, D.D., Bishop of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in the State of New York, and President of
Columbia College," and another edition with the same text and imprint is
dedicated, in several pages of Latin, to the learned Samuel L. Mitchell,
M.D. He and his wife were buried in the graveyard of the Wall Street
Presbyterian Church. It may not be inappropriate in this connection to
refer to another instructor of an even earlier period which has come
within my notice, who taught reading, writing and arithmetic "with
becoming accuracy." In _The New York Journal Or The General Advertiser_
of the 30th of April, 1772, appears the following advertisement:
THE RESPECTABLE PUBLIC is hereby informed that, agreeable to
a former advertisement, a Seminary of Learning was opened at
New Brunswick, last November, by the name of _Queen's
College_,[1] and also a Grammar School, in order to prepare
Youth for the same. Any Parents or Guardians who may be
inclined to send their Children to this Institution, may
depend upon having them instructed with the greatest Care
and Diligence in all the Arts and Sciences usually taught in
public Schools; the strictest Regard will be paid to their
moral Conduct, (and in a word) to every Thing which may tend
to render them a Pleasure to their Friends, and an Ornament
to their Species.
Also to obviate the Objection of some to sending their
Children on Account of their small Proficiency in English, a
proper Person has been provided, who attends at the Grammar
School an Hour a Day, and teaches Reading, Writing and
Arithmetic with becoming Accuracy--It is hoped that the
above Considerations, together with the healthy and
convenient Situation of the Place, on a Pleasant and
navigable River, in the midst of a plentiful Country; the
Reasonableness of the Inhabitants in the Price of Board, and
the easy Access from all Places, either by Land or Water
will be esteemed by the considerate Public, as a sufficient
Recommendation of this infant College, which (as it is
erected upon so Catholic a Plan) will undoubtedly prove
_advantageous_ to our new American World, by assisting its
SISTER SEMMINARIES to cultivate Piety, Learning, and
Liberty.
_Per Order of the Trustees_,
FREDERICK FRELINGHUYSEN, Tutor.
N.B. The Vacation of the College will be expired on
Wednesday the 6th of May, any Students then offering
themselves shall be admitted into such Class, as (upon
Examination) they shall be found capable of entering.
The signer of this interesting advertisement was graduated from
Princeton College in 1770, and subsequently became a lawyer. His
distinguished son, Theodore, was widely known as a philanthropist and
Christian statesman, and at various periods was United States Senator,
Chancellor of the New York University, President of Rutgers College, a
candidate for the Vice Presidency of the United States, and President of
the American Bible Society. A grandson of the signer was the Hon.
Frederick Theodore Frelinghuysen, the well remembered United States
Senator and Secretary of State under President Arthur.
Speaking of the Frelinghuysen family, I recall an amusing story told at
the expense of Newark, New Jersey. When the late Secretary Frelinghuysen
presented himself at the gates of Heaven he was surprised not to be
recognized by St. Peter, who asked him who he was. "I am the Hon.
Frederick T. Frelinghuysen," was the response. "From where?" "Newark,
New Jersey." "Newark?" quoth St. Peter, "I never heard of that place,
but I will look on my list. No, it isn't there. I can not admit you, Mr.
Frelinghuysen." So the old gentleman proceeded and knocked at another
gate in the boundless immensity. The devil opened it and looked out. The
same conversation occurred as with St. Peter. Newark wasn't "on the
list." "My Heavens, Mr. Satan, am I then doomed to return to Newark?"
exclaimed the New Jersey statesman, and went back to the Newark
graveyard.
My father, James Campbell, was born in Callander, Scotland, and, as I
have before stated, came to this country with his parents as a very
young child. Both he and his father were clad in their Highland dress
upon their arrival in New York. His childhood was spent in the great
metropolis, and he subsequently studied law in Albany, with the Hon.
Samuel Miles Hopkins, the grandfather of Mrs. Arent Schuyler
Crowninshield. He was admitted to the bar, and almost immediately became
a Master in Chancery. In 1821 he was appointed Surrogate of New York, a
position which he retained for twenty years. He was always a pronounced
democrat, but notwithstanding this fact he was reappointed ten
successive times. In 1840, however, the Whig party was in the ascendency
in the New York Legislature, and through the instrumentality of William
H. Seward, who introduced a system called "pipe laying," the whole
political atmosphere was changed. "Pipe laying" was an organized scheme
for controlling votes, and derived its name from certain political
manipulations connected with the introduction of Croton water in New
York City. I have learned in later years that more approved methods are
frequently used for controlling votes. Modern ethics has discovered a
more satisfactory method through means of powerful corporations with
coffers wide open in the holy cause of electing candidates.
This unfortunate state of affairs resulted in the removal of my father
from office, and he immediately resumed the practice of law. Some of his
decisions as Surrogate are regarded as precedents to this day. Two of
the most prominent of these are "Watts and LeRoy vs. Public
Administrator" (a decision resulting in the establishment of the Leake
and Watts Orphan House) and "In the matter of the last Will and
Testament of Alice Lispenard, deceased." He is said to have owned about
this time the largest private library in New York City, composed largely
of foreign imprints, as he seemed to have but little regard for American
editions. The classical portion of his library, especially the volumes
published in Paris, was regarded as unusually choice and well selected.
He had also a large collection of Greek Testaments which he read in
preference to the translations. He owned a copy of Didot's Virgil and I
have always understood that, with the exception of one owned in the
Brevoort family of New York, it was at that time the only copy in
America. He retained his scholarly tastes throughout his whole life, and
in looking back I delight to picture him as seated in his library
surrounded by his beloved books. In 1850, about two years after his
death, his library was sold at auction, the catalogue of which covers
114 closely printed pages. Among the purchasers were William E. Burton,
the actor, Chief Justice Charles P. Daly and Henry W. Longfellow.
Professor Charles Anthon of Columbia College dedicated his Horace to my
father in the following choice words:
To
My old & valued friend
James Campbell, Esq.,
who, amid the graver duties of a judicial station,
can still find leisure to gratify a pure and
cultivated taste, by reviving the
studies of earlier years.
The following letter from Professor Anthon, the original of which is
still retained by the family, was addressed to my mother shortly after
my father's death.
COL[UMBIA] COLL[EGE], Sep. 3d 1849.
Dear Madam,
I dedicated the accompanying work to your lamented husband
in happier years, while he was still in the full career of
honourable usefulness; and, now that death has taken him
from us, I deem it but right that the volume which bore his
name while living, should still continue to be a memento of
him. May I request you to accept this humble but sincere
tribute to the memory of a most valued friend?
I remain, very respectfully and truly,
CHAS. ANTHON.
Mrs. Campbell,
Houston Street.
When Professor Anthon was about forty-eight years of age Edgar Allan Poe
described him as "about five feet, eight inches in height; rather stout;
fair complexion; hair light and inclined to curl; forehead remarkably
broad and high; eye gray, clear, and penetrating; mouth well-formed,
with excellent teeth--the lips having great flexibility, and consequent
power of expression; the smile particularly pleasing. His address in
general is bold, frank, cordial, full of _bonhomie_. His whole air is
_distingué_ in the best understanding of the term--that is to say, he
would impress anyone at first sight with the idea of his being no
ordinary man. He has qualities, indeed, which would have assured him
eminent success in almost any pursuit; and there are times in which his
friends are half disposed to regret his exclusive devotion to classical
literature."
My father was a trustee of the venerable New York Society Library and
one of the directors of the old United States Bank in Philadelphia; and
I have in my possession a number of interesting letters from Nicholas
Biddle, its president, addressed to him and asking his advice and
counsel. For eighteen years he was a trustee of Columbia College in New
York, and enjoyed the close friendship of President William A. Duer,
Reverend and Professor John McVickar, James Renwick, Professor of
Chemistry, whose mother, Jennie Jeffery, was Burns's "Blue-e'ed
Lassie," and Professor Charles Anthon, all of whom filled chairs in
that institution with unquestioned ability. My father was also a member
of the St. Andrews Society of New York. After his death, President Duer
in an impressive address alluded to him in the following manner:
"Two of our associates with whom I have been similarly connected and
have known from boyhood have also departed, leaving sweet memories
behind them, James Campbell and David S. Jones, the former a scholar and
a ripe and good one, once honoring the choice of his fellow citizens and
winning golden opinions as Surrogate of this city and county."
President Duer had a most interesting family of children. His eldest
married daughter, Frances Maria, was the wife of Henry Shaeffe Hoyt of
Park Place, and died recently in Newport at a very advanced age. Eleanor
Jones Duer, another daughter, married George T. Wilson, an Englishman.
She was a great beauty, bearing a striking resemblance to Fanny Kemble,
and was remarkable for her strong intellect. Her marriage was
clandestine, and the cause, as far as I know, was never explained. Still
another daughter, Elizabeth, married Archibald Gracie King of Weehawken,
and was a Colonial Dame of much prominence in her later years. She was
the mother of the authoress, Mrs. John King Van Rensselaer. President
Duer's wife was Hannah Maria Denning of Fishkill, New York. I knew her
only as an elderly woman possessing a fine presence and social tastes.
In my early life the students of Columbia College enjoyed playing
practical jokes upon its dignified professors. As an illustration, I
remember once seeing the death of Professor Renwick fictitiously
published in one of the daily journals, much to the sorrow and
subsequently the indignation of a large circle of friends. Professor
Anthon, too, although a confirmed bachelor, had to face his turn, and
his marriage to some unknown bride bearing an assumed name was an
occasional announcement. But the most amusing feature of the joke would
appear in the morning, when an emphatic denial would be seen in the
columns of the same newspaper, accompanied by a quotation in spurious
Latin. Professor Anthon lived with his two spinster sisters in one of
the college buildings, and their home was a rendezvous for an
appreciative younger generation. In connection with his duties at the
college, he was the head of the Columbia College Grammar School, and I
have always understood that he strictly followed the scriptural
injunction not "to spare the rod." His victims were repeatedly heard to
remark that these flagellations partially counterbalanced the lack of
exercise which he felt very keenly in his sedentary life. But with all
his austerity his pupils would occasionally be astonished over the
amount of humor that he was capable of displaying. His handwriting was
exquisitely minute in character, and I have in my possession two
valentines composed by him and sent to me which are quaintly beautiful
in language and, although sixty years old, are still in a perfect state
of preservation.
_To Miss Marian Campbell._
The Campbell is coming! Ye Gentles beware,
For Don Cupid lies hid in her dark flowing hair,
And her eyes, bright as stars that in mid-heaven roll,
Pierce through frock-coat and dickey right into the soul!
And ye lips which the coral might envy, I ween,
And ye pearl rows that peep from the red lips between,
And that soft-dimpled cheek, with the hue of the rose,
And that smile which bears conquest wherever it goes,
Oh, could I but think that you soon would be mine,
I'd send Marian each morning a sweet valentine.
Feb'y 14, 1844.
(Written a few years later.)
Sweet girl! within whose laughing eye
A thousand little Cupids lie,
While every curl, that floats above
Thy noble brow, seems fraught with love.
Oh, list to me, my loved one, list!
Thy Tellkampf's suit no more resist,
But give to him, to call his own,
A heart where Kings might make their throne.
John Louis Tellkampf, to whom Anthon so facetiously alludes in the
second valentine, was a young German who frequently came to our house,
and who, through my father's aid and influence, in subsequent years
became professor of German in Columbia College. When we first knew him
he spoke English with much difficulty, and it was a standing joke in our
household that once when he desired to say that a certain person had
been born he expressed the fact as "getting alive."
Malcolm Campbell, a younger brother of mine, was graduated in 1850 from
Columbia College near the head of his class. Among his classmates were
Charles Seymour, subsequently Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church
of Illinois, and the distinguished lawyer Frederick R. Coudert, whose
father kept a boys' French school in Bleecker Street. My brother
subsequently studied law in the office of Judge Henry Hilton, and for
many years practiced at the New York bar. Upon a certain occasion he and
Samuel F. Kneeland were opposing counsel in an important suit during
which Mr. Kneeland kept quoting from his own work upon "Mechanics'
Liens." My brother endured this as long as his patience permitted and
then, slowly rising to his feet, said: "I have cited decisions on the
point in controversy, but my learned opponent cites nothing except his
own opinions printed in his own book. With such persistency has he done
this that I have been tempted to write these lines:
"Oh, Kneeland! dear Kneeland, pray what do you mean
By such a fat book on the subject of Lien?
Was it for glory or was it for pelf,
Or just for the pleasure of quoting yourself?"
It seems almost needless to add that this doggerel was followed by a
round of applause, and that Chief Justice Charles P. Daly and Judge
Joseph F. Daly, as well as Judge George M. Van Hoesen, who were on the
bench at this time, joined in the merriment.
The commencement exercises of Columbia College, as I remember them, took
place every summer in St. John's Church opposite St. John's Park, and I
often attended them in my early days. Columbia College at this period
was in the lower part of the city between College and Park Places, and
was the original King's College of colonial days. All of the professors
lived in the college buildings in a most unostentatious manner, and I
readily recall frequent instances during my early childhood when, in
company with my father, I walked to the college and took a simple six
o'clock supper with Professor Anthon and his sisters.
My mother met my father while visiting in New York, and the acquaintance
eventually resulted in a runaway marriage. They were married on the 10th
of June, 1818, and nine days later the following notice appeared in _The
National Advocate_:
_Married._
At Flushing, L.I., by the Rev. Mr. [Barzilla] Buckley, James
Campbell esq. of this city, to Miss Mary Ann Hazard,
daughter of John Hazard, esq. of Jamaica, Long Island.
The objection of my Grandfather Hazard to my mother's marriage was not
unnatural, as she was his only child, and being at this time well
advanced in years he dreaded the separation. But the happy bride
immediately brought her husband to live in the old home where she had
been born, where the young couple began their married life under
pleasing auspices, and my father continued his practice of law in New
York. I had the misfortune of being a second daughter. Traditionally, I
know that my grandfather most earnestly desired a grandson at that time,
and when the nurse announced my birth, she was not sufficiently
courageous to tell the truth, and said: "A boy, sir!" Her faltering
manner possibly betrayed her, as the sarcastic retort was: "I dare say,
an Irish boy."
My ambitious parents sent me with my oldest sister, Fanny, at the early
age of four, to a school in the village of Jamaica conducted by Miss
Delia Bacon. My recollection of events occurring at this early period is
not very vivid, but I still recall the vision of three beautiful women,
Delia, Alice and Julia Bacon, who presided over our school. This
interesting trio were nieces of the distinguished author and divine, the
Rev. Dr. Leonard Bacon, who for fifty-seven years was pastor of the
First Congregational Church of New Haven. Many years subsequent to my
school days, Delia Bacon became, as is well known, an enthusiastic
advocate of the Baconian authorship of Shakespeare's plays. I have
understood that she made a pilgrimage to Stratford-on-Avon hoping to
secure the proper authority to reopen Shakespeare's grave, a desire,
however, that remained ungratified. She was a woman of remarkable
ability, and I have in my possession the book, written by her nephew,
which tells the story of her life. I was Miss Bacon's youngest pupil,
and attended school regularly in company with my sister, whither we were
driven each morning in the family carriage. My studies were not
difficult, and my principal recollection is my playing out of doors with
a dog named Sancho, while the older children were busy inside with their
studies.
During my Long Island life, as a very young child, I was visiting my
aunts in Jay Street, New York, when I was taken to Grant Thorburn's seed
shop in Maiden Lane, which I think was called "The Arcade." There was
much there to delight the childish fancy--canaries, parrots, and other
birds of varied plumage. Thorburn's career was decidedly unusual. He
was born in Scotland, where he worked in his father's shop as a
nailmaker. He came to New York in 1794 and for a time continued at his
old trade. He then kept a seed store and, after making quite a fortune,
launched into a literary career and wrote under the _nom de plume_ of
"Laurie Todd."
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Now Rutgers College.