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The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 6, June, 1862
From 1656 to 1663, some Protestant emigrants from Savoy came to Staten Island, and a large body of Rochelle Huguenots also reached New-York during the latter year. This fertile and beautiful spot, with its gentle hills and wide-spread surrounding waters, became a favorite asylum for the French refugees, and they arrived in considerable numbers about the year 1675, with a pastor, and erected a church near Richmond village. I have visited the place, but all that remains to mark the venerable and sacred spot is a single dilapidated grave-stone! The building, it is said, was burned down, and none of its records have been discovered. At that period, there were only five or six congregations in the province of New-York, and this must have been one of them. The Rev. David Bonrepos accompanied some of the French Protestants in their flight from France to this country, and in an early description of New-York, the Rev. John Miller says: 'There is a meeting-house at Richmond, Staten Island, of which Dr. Bonrepos is the minister. There are forty English, forty-four Dutch, and thirty-six French families.' In 1695-1696, letters of denization were granted to David Bonrepos and others. Among my autographs is a copy of his; he wrote a fair, clear hand.
Under the tolerant rule of 'Good Queen Anne,' many French refugees obtained peaceful abodes in Richmond county. In their escape from their own land, multitudes had been kindly received in England, and afterward accepted a permanent and safe shelter in the Province of New-York. What a noble origin had the Staten Island Christian refugees! Their ancestors, the Waldenses, resided several centuries, as a whole people, in the South of France, and like the ancient Israelites of the land of Goshen, enjoyed the pure light of sacred truth, while Egyptian darkness spread its gloom on every side. In vain have historians endeavored to trace correctly their origin and progress. All, however, allow them a very high antiquity, with what is far better, an uncontaminated, pure faith. A very ancient record gives a beautiful picture of their simple manners and devotions:
'They, kneeling on their knees, or leaning against some bank or stay, do continue in their prayers with silence, as long as a man may say thirty or forty paternosters. This they do every day, with great reverence, being among themselves. Before meat, they say, 'Benedicite.' etc. Then the elders, in their own tongue, repeat: 'God, which blessed the five loaves and two fishes, bless this table and what is set upon it. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.' After meat, they say: Blessing, and worship, and wisdom, and thanksgiving, honor, virtue, and strength, to God alone, for ever and ever. Amen. The Lord which has given us corporeal feeding, grant, us his spiritual life; and God be with us, and we always with him. Amen.' Thus saying grace, they hold their hands upward, looking up to heaven; and afterward they teach and exhort among themselves.'
To Staten Islanders it must be a pleasant reminiscence, that among their earliest settlers were these pious Waldenses.
Like their brethren in Utrecht, the descendants of the Huguenots on the Island sometimes occupy the same farms which their pious ancestors obtained more than a century and a half ago. The Disosways, the Guions, the Seguines, on its beautiful winding shores, are well-known examples of this kind. The Hollanders, Walloons, Waldenses, and the Huguenots here all intermarried, and the noble, spiritual races thus combined, ever have formed a most excellent, industrious, and influential population. Judges, Assemblymen, members of Congress, and ministers, again and again, in Richmond county, have been selected from these unions. During the Revolutionary struggle, the husband of Mrs. Colonel Disosway had fallen into the hands of the common enemy; she was the sister of the well-known and brave Captain Fitz-Randolph, or Randell, as commonly called, who had greatly annoyed the British. When one of their officers had consented to procure her husband's release, if she would persuade her brother to quit the American ranks, she indignantly replied: 'If I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General Washington has but one Captain Randolph in his army?'
The early history of some of the emigrants is almost the reality of romance. Henri de La Tourette fled from La Vendee, after the Revolution, and to avoid suspicion, gave a large entertainment. While the guests were assembled at his house, he suddenly left, with his wife, for the sea-coast. This was not far off, and reaching it, he escaped on board a vessel bound for Charleston. The ship was either cast away upon the shores of Staten Island, or made a harbor in distress. Here La Tourette landed, and a long list of exemplary, virtuous people trace their origin to this source, and one of them has been pastor to the 'Huguenot,' a Dutch Reformed church on the Island, and is now a useful minister among the Episcopalians of the Western States. A branch of this family still exists at the chateau of La Tourette, in France, and some years since, one of them visited this country to obtain the 'Old Family Bible.' But he was unsuccessful, as the holy and venerable volume had been sent long before to a French refugee in Germany. But few of such holy books can now be found, printed in French, and very scarce; wherever met with, they should he carefully perused and preserved.
Dr. Channing Moore for a long time was the faithful pastor of St. Andrew's, the Episcopal Church at Richmond. Afterward he was consecrated the Bishop of Virginia. He was connected by marriage with an old Huguenot family of the Island, and his son, the Rev. David Moore, D.D., succeeded him here, living and dying, a striking example of fidelity to his most important duties. That eloquent divine, the late Rev. Dr. Bedell, of Philadelphia, was a Staten Islander by birth, and of the same French origin on the maternal side.
His son is the present Bishop Bedell of Ohio. There are scarcely any of the original Richmond county families but claim relationship to the French Protestants either on the father or mother's side. In all the official records are to be found such names as Disosway, Fontaine, (Fountain,) Reseau, Bedell, Rutan, Poillon, Mercereau, La Conte, Britten, Maney, Perrin, (Perrine,) Larselene, Curse, De Puy, (Depuy,) Corssen, Martineau, Morgane, (Morgan,) Le Guine, (Leguine,) Journey, Teunise, Guion, Dubois, Andronette, Winant, Totten, La Farge, Martling, De Decker, (Decker very numerous,) Barton, Ryers, Menell, Hillyer, De Groot, Garretson, Vanderbilt, etc., etc.
Few communities are blest with a better population than Richmond county, moral, industrious, thrifty, and religious, and they should ever cherish the remembrance of their virtuous and noble origin. The island is not more than twelve or fourteen miles long, and about three wide, with some thirty thousand inhabitants; and within these small limits there are over thirty churches, of various denominations, each having a regular pastor; and most of the official members in these congregations are lineal branches of the first settlers, the French Protestants. What a rich and glorious, harvest, since the handful of Holland, Walloon, Waldenses, and Huguenot emigrants, two centuries and a half ago, first landed upon the wilderness shores of Staten Island!
RECOLLECTIONS OF WASHINGTON IRVING.
BY ONE OF HIS FRIENDS
The appearance of the first volume of the long-expected Life of Washington Irving has excited an interest which will not be satisfied until the whole work shall have been completed. Its author, Pierre M. Irving, sets forth with the announcement that his plan is to make the patriarch of American literature his own biographer. It is nothing new that this branch of letters is beset with peculiar difficulties. Some men suffer sadly at the hand of their chronicler. Scott misrepresents Napoleon, and Southey fails equally in his Memoirs of Cowper and of the Wesleys. Friendship's colors are too bright for correct portraiture, and prejudice equally forbids acuracy. Mr. Pierre M. Irving, though an admirer of his distinguished kinsman, (and who that knew him could fail of admiration?) avoids the character of a mere eulogist, while at the same time he exhibits none of the obsequiousness of a Boswell, fluttering like a moth about a huge candle. Being a man of independent mind and of high culture, he brings out the character he portrays in aspects true to life, and not exaggerated by excess of tone, while he fully exhibits its exquisite finish.
Among the many incidents of deep interest which are contained in this volume, the episode of Matilda Hoffman stands forth in most striking relief. While lifting the veil which for a half-century covered the most pathetic event in Irving's life, his biographer touches with a scrupulous delicacy a theme so sacredly enshrined in a life-long memory. In referring to this affair, which gave a tender aspect to Irving's subsequent career, and in fact changed its whole tenor, we may remark that the loves of literary men form a most interesting and, in some cases, moving history. Some, like Petrarch, Earl Surrey, Burns, and Byron, have embalmed the objects of their affection in the effusions of their muse, while others have bequeathed that duty to others. Shakspeare says but little about his sweetheart, while Milton, who was decidedly unsuccessful in matters of the heart, seems to have acted on the motto, 'The least said, the soonest mended.' Poor Pope, miserable invalid though he was, nervous, irritable, and full of hate and spleen, was not beyond the power of the tender passion, and confessed the charms of the lonely Martha Blount, who held the wretched genius among her conquests. Swift, although an ogre at heart, had his chapter of love matters, which never fail to give us the horrors when we bring them to mind, and the episodes of Stella and Vanessa are among the minor tragedies in life's great drama. Johnson had a great heart, and was born to love, though, like the lion, he needed to have his claws pared, to fit him for female society. What a tender attachment was that which he bore 'Tetty,' and with what solemn remembrance he preserved her as his own, even after death had robbed him of her presence!
The loves of these men exercised the strongest influence on their destinies, while, on the other hand, disappointment and consequent celibacy have done the same to their victims. To the bachelor list of modern days, which can boast of Charles Lamb and Macaulay, America adds the proud name of Washington Irving, whose early disappointment made him an author.
My impressions of Irving's boyhood and youth are alive with the freshness of an early memory, which conserves along with him the Crugers, Clintons, Livingstons, Ogdens, and other old and honored names of New-York. The biography which inspires this reminiscence gives a sketch of the early history of the family, and as its author has thus opened the subject, it will not, we presume, be considered an intrusion if I pursue the thread of domestic incident a little farther than he has done.
The Irving homestead, in William street, was, in its day, a place of some pretension, when contrasted with the humble dwellings which surrounded it. The street on which it stood was miserably built, but here, in the suburb of the city, was a house whose appearance corresponded with the solid and high-toned character of its owner. Old Mr. Irving was, at the time to which I refer, a hale citizen of about three-score and ten, of grave and majestic bearing, and a form and expression which, when once fixed in the mind, could not easily be forgotten. As I remember him, his countenance was cast in that strong mould which characterized the land of his birth, but the features were often mellowed by a quiet smile. He was a man of deep piety, and was esteemed a pillar in the Brick Church, then the leading Presbyterian church of the city.
His mode of conducting family worship was peculiarly beautiful, and even to his last days he maintained this service. On such occasions, it was a most touching spectacle to see the majestic old man, bowed and hoary with extreme age, leaning upon his staff, as he stood among his family and sung a closing hymn, generally one appropriate to his condition, while tears of emotion ran down his checks. One of these hymns we well remember. It runs in these lines,
'Death may dissolve my body now,And bear my spirit home;Why do my moments move so slow,Nor my salvation come?'With heavenly weapons I have foughtThe battles of my Lord;Finished my course, and kept the faith,And wait the sure reward.'In a few years, the words of this exquisite hymn were fulfilled; the old man fell asleep, full of years and of honors, going to the grave like a shock of corn in its season. His funeral was one of imposing simplicity, and he was buried just at the entrance of that church where he had been so long a faithful attendant.
Mrs. Irving, who survived him several years, was of a different type of character, which, by its peculiar contrast, seemed to perfect the harmony of a well-matched union. She was of elegant shape, with large English features, which were permeated by an indescribable life and beauty. Her manners were full of action, and her conversational powers were of a high order. All of these graces appeared in the children, and were united with the vigor of intellect which marked the character of the father.
It would have been surprising if the offspring of such a union should not have been distinguished, and it is only the peculiar relation which the biographer sustains to it which prevents him from bringing this feature out more prominently.
It was, however, acknowledged, at an early day, that the family of William Irving had no equal in the city, and when we consider its number, its personal beauty, its moral excellence, its varied talents, without a single deficient or unworthy member, we can not wonder at the general admiration which it commanded. From the eldest son, William, and Ann, the eldest daughter, whom her father fondly termed Nancy, to Washington, the youngest, all were endowed with beauty, grace, amiability, and talent, yet in the latter they seemed to effloresce with culminating fullness. Nancy Irving was the cynosure of William street, concerning whose future destiny many a youth might have confessed an impassioned interest. Her brother William had become connected commercially with a young revolutionary soldier, (General Dodge,) who had opened a trading-station on the Mohawk frontier, and the latter bore away the sister as his bride. The union was one of happiness, and lasted twenty years, when it was terminated by her death. Of this, Washington thus speaks, in a letter in 1808: 'On the road, as I was traveling in high spirits, with the idea of home to inspire me, I had the shock of reading an account of my dear sister's death, and never was a blow struck so near my heart before.... One more heart lies cold and still that ever beat toward me with the warmest affection, for she was the tenderest, best of sisters, and a woman of whom a brother might be proud.' Little did the author of this letter then dream of that more crushing blow which within one year was to fall upon him, and from whose weight he was never wholly to recover.
William Irving, the brother of the biographer, was a model of manly beauty, and early remarkable for a brilliant and sparkling intellect, which overflowed in conversation, and often bordered on eloquence. Had he been bred to the law, he would have shone among its brightest stars; but those gifts, which so many envied, were buried in trade, and though he became one of the merchant-princes of the city, even this success could not compensate for so great a burial of gifts. As one of the contributors to Salmagundi, he exhibits the keenness of a flashing wit, while, in subsequent years, he represented New-York in Congress, when such an office was a distinction.
Peter Irving, like his brother, united personal elegance with talents, and conducted the Morning Chronicle, amid the boisterous storms of early politics. This journal favored the interests of Burr; but it must be remembered that at that time Burr's name was free from infamy, and that, as a leader, he enjoyed the highest prestige, being the centre of the Democracy of New-York. Burr's powers of fascination were peculiarly great, and he had surrounded himself with a circle of enthusiastic admirers. Indeed, such was his skill in politics, that in 1800 he upset the Federalists, after a pitched battle of three days, (the old duration of an election,) which was one of the most exciting scenes I ever witnessed. Horatio Gates, of Saratoga fame, was one of his nominees for the State Legislature, (Gates was then enjoying those undeserved laurels which posterity has since taken away,) and it was surprising to see the veterans of the Revolution abandoning their party to vote for their old comrade and leader. The result was, that the Federalists were most thoroughly worsted, and the party never recovered from the blow. Such were the exciting events which identified the young politicians of the metropolis, and which inspired their speeches and their press. Burr's headquarters were at Martling's Tavern, 87 Nassau street. On being torn down, the business was removed to Tammany Hall, which has inherited a political character from its predecessor. Besides this, he used to meet his friends in more select numbers at a Coffee-house in Maiden Lane. His office was Number 30 Partition street, (now Fulton,) and his residence was at Richmond Hill. This place has lately been pulled down; it stood far away from the city, in a wild, secluded neighborhood, and in bad going was quite an out of the way spot, though now it would be in the densest part of the city. As there were no public vehicles plying in this direction, except the Chelsea (Twenty-eighth street) stage, which was very unreliable, one either had to hire a coach or else be subjected to a walk of two miles. But such as had the entrée of this establishment would be well rewarded, even for these difficulties, by an interview with Theodosia Burr, the most charming creature of her day. She was married early, and we saw but little of her. From the interest which the Irvings felt in Burr's fortunes, it might have been expected that they should sympathize with him in his subsequent reverses.
The biographer presents Washington Irving as an attendant at the famous trial at Richmond, where his indignation at some of Burr's privations are expressed in a most interesting letter. This sympathy is the more touching from the fact that Washington was a Federalist, and in this respect differed from his brothers. We have an idea that his youthful politics were in no small degree influenced by those of that illustrious personage for whom he was named. Another of the sons was John T., who became a successful and wealthy jurist, and for many years presided at New-York Common Pleas, while Ebenezer was established in trade at an early day. Such was the development of that family, which in rosy childhood followed William Irving to the old Brick Church, and whose early progress he was permitted to witness. The biographer passes lightly over the scenes of boyhood, and there was hardly any need for his expatiating on that idolatry which surrounded the youngest. He was no doubt the first child ever named after the father of his country, and the touching incident of Lizzie's presenting the chubby, bright-eyed boy to Washington, is hit off in a few touches. It was, however, in itself a sublime thing. Nearly seventy years afterward, that child, still feeling the hand of benediction resting upon him, concludes his Life of Washington by a description of his reception in New-York, of which he had been a witness. Why does he not (it would have been a most pardonable allusion) bring in the incident referred to above? Ah! modesty forbade; yet, as he penned that description, his heart must have rejoiced at the boldness of the servant who broke through the crowd and presented to the General a boy honored with his name. Glorious incident indeed!
As the family grew up, the young men took to their different professions, which we have briefly designated. Peter read medicine, and hence received the title of 'doctor;' though he hated and finally abjured it, yet, as early as 1794, he had opened an office at 208 Broadway. This, however, was more a resort for the muses than for Hygeia, notwithstanding its sign, 'Peter Irving, M.D.' In 1796, William Irving, who had been clerk in the loan office, established himself in trade in Pearl—near Partition—street, and from his energy and elegance of manners, he became immediately successful, while farther up the street, near Old Slip, John T. opened a law office, which was subsequently removed to Wall street, near Broadway. We mention these facts to show that Irving entered life surrounded by protecting influences, and that the kindness which sheltered him from the world's great battle had a tendency to increase his natural delicacy and to expose him to more intense suffering, when the hand of misfortune should visit him. One who had 'roughed it' with the world would have better borne the killing disappointment of his affections; but he was rendered peculiarly sensitive to suffering by his genial surroundings.
This fact sets off in remarkable contrast, the noble resolution with which such an one as he, when he had buried all the world held in the tomb with the dead form of his beloved, rose above his sorrows. It is well observed by his biographer, that 'it is an affecting evidence how little Mr. Irving was ever disposed to cultivate or encourage sadness, that he should be engaged during this period of sorrow and seclusion in revising and giving additional touches to his History of New-York.' Those who may smile at the elegant humor which pervades the pages of that history, will be surprised to learn that they were nearly complete, yet their final revision and preparation for the press was by one who was almost broken of heart, and who thus cultivated a spirit of cheerfulness, lest he should become a burden to himself and others. As he writes to Mrs. Hoffman: 'By constantly exercising my mind, never suffering it to prey upon itself, and resolutely determining to be cheerful, I have, in a manner, worked myself into a very enviable state of serenity and self-possession.'
How truly has Wordsworth expressed this idea:
'If there be one who need bemoanHis kindred laid in earth,The household hearts that were his own,It is the man of mirth.'We are glad to know that in time Irving sought a better consolation.
But to return from this digression, or rather anticipation of our subject. At the time of which we now write, New-York was comparatively a small town; true, it was the chief commercial city in America, and yet its limits proper could be described by a line drawn across the island some distance below Canal street. Yet even then New-York was full of life, and seemed to feel the promise of subsequent greatness. Her streets echoed to the footsteps of men whom the present generation, with all its progress, can not surpass. At Number 26 Broadway, might have been daily seen the light-built but martial and elegant form of Alexander Hamilton, while his mortal foe, Aaron Burr, as we have stated, held his office in Partition street. John Jacob Astor was just becoming an established and solid business man, and dwelt at 223 Broadway, the present site of the Astor House, and which was one of the earliest purchases which led to the greatest landed estate in America. Robert Lenox lived in Broadway, near Trinity Church, and was building up that splendid commerce which has made his son one of the chief city capitalists. De Witt Clinton was a young and ambitious lawyer, full of promise, whose office (he was just elected Mayor) was Number 1 Broadway. Cadwallader D. Colden was pursuing his brilliant career, and might be found immersed in law at Number 59 Wall street. Such were the legal and political magnates of the day; while to slake the thirst of their excited followers, Medcef Eden brewed ale in Gold street, and Janeway carried on the same business in Magazine street; and his empty establishment became notorious, in later years, as the 'Old Brewery.'
About this time young Irving was developing as one of the most interesting youth of the city. His manners were soft without being effeminate, his form finely molded, and his countenance singularly beautiful. To this might be added the general opinion that he was considerably gifted in the use of the pen. Yet with all these promising features, the future was clothed with shadows, for his health was failing, and his friends considered him too lovely a flower to last. Little did his brothers and sisters think that that delicate youth would, with one exception, outlive the whole family. It was at this time that he first went abroad; and his experiences of travel are given by Pierre Irving in the sparkling letters which he wrote to his brothers.