USA > New York > New York City > In olde New York; sketches of old times and places in both the state and the city > Part 3
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1241079 Two Marble Cemeteries
Jacob Morton, who commanded the military at the obsequies of ex-President Monroe. The receiving vault held for some years the body of the Spanish- American General Paez, who, after the usual stormy career of generals in his country, fled to New York, to find the death he had escaped in far more warlike scenes awaiting him here. The body was in dispute among the relatives, it is said, and when the question was settled it was removed to South America for burial. Commodore Eagle of the navy is buried at the west end of the yard, and near him lies Commodore Bullus; the latter, with his wife and three small children, was on board the Chesapeake when the Leopard made her murderous attack. They were on their way to a Mediterranean Consulate at the time, and during the action Mrs. Bullus and her children were removed from the cabin to a place of safety, but the Commodore, though a non-combatant, remained on deck and fought gallantly through the whole affair.
CHAPTER IV
SOME OLD-TIME FIGURES 1
"JOHN I. B OHN I. BROWERE was one of a class of men peculiar to the early days of American art. A native of New York, he was in his youth a sign painter. Showing promising talent, he was induced to take lessons under Archibald Robertson, and after slight instruction moved to Tarrytown and set up his easel as a portrait painter, at the same time eking out his resources by teaching school. A little later a brother offered him a free passage to Leghorn in the ship he commanded, and the artist proceeded to Italy, spend- ing two years there, rambling from city to city and diligently studying art, and more especially sculpture. Returning to America about 1820, he built a studio in the rear of his residence, No. 315 Broadway, adjoin- ing the old New York Hospital, and I suppose took the bust of every gentleman of note then living in the city. Some 200 examples of his work are said to be in existence in New York. His most ambitious project was a national gallery of busts and statues of distinguished Americans, a project encouraged by 1 This was written in 1883.
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Some Old Time Figures
Jefferson, Adams, Lafayette, and all the famous men of the day. Browere was a poet and inventor as well as artist; one occasionally comes upon his verses in the albums of old ladies of the city; he also invented a stove for burning anthracite coal, and a process for manufacturing oiled silk, which gave several people immense fortunes, although he, owing to his improvi- dence in money matters, never received a penny. He died poor in 1834, of cholera, after only six hours' illness, at his house by the old mile-stone in the Bowery, leaving his gallery only half completed. His son, A. D. O. Browere, the artist, has recently placed on ex- hibition a completed portion, which embraces busts of Jefferson, Lafayette, the three Adamses, Madison, Clay, DeWitt Clinton, the three captors of André, Forrest, and others."
These facts, suggested by the modest sign, " Browere's Busts of Distinguished Americans," on the front of the building No. 788 Broadway, were told me some twenty years ago by an old New Yorker. It proved to be an interesting place to visit. Climbing two flights of long winding stairs from an entrance on Tenth Street, and passing through a long passage, we entered the gallery, a well-lighted, neatly-carpeted room. Twenty-three busts were ranged around the sides, and there were others, with a collection of the exhibitor's paintings in an ante-room. The busts were interesting certainly, both as examples of the art of
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In Olde New York
1820-25 and from their historic associations, but still more interesting was the gossip and reminiscence they inspired in the white-haired gentleman who exhibited them. One might detect, however, running through his monologue a little vein of resentment at the indif- ference of the public to the merits of his collec- tion, and the efforts made in certain quarters to discredit it.
"When my father was about taking the cast of Charles Carroll, of Carrollton," said he, "he received testimonials of his skill and ability from the first gentle- men in the city. I will read you this from Prof. Samuel L. Mitchell, LL.D., which was endorsed by many others equally competent to judge." From a little morocco-covered book he read: "I approve your de- sign of executing a likeness in statuary of the Honor-
able Charles Carroll, of Carrollton. When you shall present yourself to him within a few days, I authorize you to employ my testimony in favor of your skill. Having submitted more than once to your plastic operations, I know that you can perform it successfully without pain and within a reasonable time. The like- nesses you have made are remarkably exact; so much so that they may be called facsimile imitations of the life. Your gallery contains so many specimens of correct casts that not only committees, but critical judges, bear witness to your industry, genius, and talent."
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Some Old Time Figures
"Jefferson writes here from Monticello, Adams from Quincy, Madison from Montpelier, Clinton from Albany, all bearing witness to the originality and life- likeness of the casts made by my father; but when at the late celebration at Tarrytown I wished to place the busts of Van Wart, Williams, and Paulding on ex- hibition, it was objected to by a few young artists and reporters, on the ground that it was not 'good art.' They were there, though, and an old gentleman came up who regarded them with great interest. 'Who did them?' said he at length. 'My father, John I. Browere, the sculptor,' I replied. 'I knew him and them,' he rejoined, 'and they are fine examples.' I afterward learned that the gentleman was Samuel J. Tilden.
"I want the Government to make bronze copies of the casts," he continued, "and place them in the Capitol or some museum of historical characters, but Congressmen whom I have approached say they cannot be worthy, because John I. Browere's name does not appear in Dunlap's book of American ar- tists. I'll tell you why it does not appear. My father, before he had ever met Dunlap, was asked one day how he liked his 'Death on the Pale Horse'? 'It's a strong work,' he replied, 'but looks as if it was painted by a man with but one eye.' The re- mark was reported to the painter, who had but one eye, and he was mortally offended; he blackballed
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In Olde New York
my father at the National Academy, and subse- quently ignored him in his biographical work."
"The greatest difficulty the sculptor had in secur- ing these," he remarked, turning to the casts, "was with Lafayette's. Of course he was very desirous of securing the distinguished friend of America for his collection, and when Lafayette visited the city in 1825 a committee of the Common Council was appointed to induce him to sit. He complied after much per- suasion. The composition had set and my father was about taking it off, when the clock struck and a spectator inadvertently remarked that the hour for the corporation dinner (which Lafayette was to attend) had arrived. 'Sacre bleu!' said he, starting up, 'take it off, take it off,' causing a piece to fall from under the eye. This accident, which necessitated a second sitting, led to some interesting correspondence pre- served in my book here which you may like to read. First is a letter from the Committee of the Common Council to Lafayette, dated 'New York, Saturday, 12 o'clock, July 12, 1825,' as follows:
"'DEAR GENERAL: We have just been to see your bust by Mr. Browere, and have pleasure in saying it is vastly superior to any other likeness of General Lafayette which as yet has fallen under our inspection. Indeed it is a faithful resemblance of every part of your features and form, from the head to the breast, with the exception of a slight defect about the left eye,
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Some Old Time Figures
caused by the loss of the material of which the mould was made. This defect Mr. Browere assures us (and we have confidence in his assurance) that he can cor- rect in a few moments and without giving you any pain, provided you will again condescend to submit to his operations for a limited time. We should much regret that the slight blemish should not be corrected, which if not done will cause to us and to the nation a continual source of chagrin and disappointment.' Two days later Alderman King wrote my father: 'Every exertion has been made to get General Lafayette to spend half an hour to get the eye of his portrait bust completed, but in vain. He has not had more than four hours each night to sleep, but has consented that you may take his mask in Philadelphia. He left New York this morning at 8, and will be in Philadelphia on Monday next, where he will remain three days. If you can be present there on Monday, or Tuesday at furthest, you can complete the matter. He has pledged his word. This arrangement was all that could be effected by your friend.' My father, you see, adds this postscript:
"'The subscribing artist met General Lafayette on Monday in the Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, and Tuesday morning from 7 to 8 was busy in making another likeness from the face and head of the General. At 4 P.M. of that day he finished the bust under the eye of the General and his attendants, and had the
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In Olde New York
pleasure then of receiving from the General and his son their assurances that it was the only good bust ever made of him.'
"The masks of Jefferson, Madison, and Mrs. Madi- son were taken with several others during a visit to Washington made by my father in 1825. It was his custom to get a certificate of genuineness and likeness from each sitter, and there are autograph letters in this book from most of the subjects, to that effect. Jeffer- son, for instance, writes from Monticello, October 16, 1825: 'At the request of the Hon. James Madison, and of Mr. Browere, of the city of New York, I hereby certify that Mr. Browere has this day made a mould in plaster composition from my person for the purpose of making a portrait bust and statue for his contem- plated National Gallery.' Here is a bust of Hamilton modeled from a miniature by Archibald Robertson. Jackson's bust he did not succeed in getting, as Powers had preceded him by a few days, and had extorted a promise not to sit to any other artist. He, however, made a sketch. The finest head in the collection is that of DeWitt Clinton. In appearance he was cer- tainly the noblest Roman of them all.
"I must repeat an impromptu that Samuel Wood- worth, author of 'The Old Oaken Bucket,' made on this bust. He had called to see that of Admiral Porter, and as he stood in the door on departing, father said: 'Sammy, here's something you haven't seen,' at the
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Some Old Time Figures
same time throwing off the cloth from the bust. Wood- worth made a gesture as of restraint, and repeated:
'Stay! the bust that graces yonder shelf claims our regard. It is the front of Jove himself, The majesty of Virtue not of Power!
Before which Guilt and Meanness only cower. Who can behold that bust and not exclaim,
Let everlasting honor claim our Clinton's name ?'
made his bow, and departed.
"Van Wart's bust my father took at Tarrytown. Paulding was brought to No. 315 by Alderman Percy Van Wyck. Williams gave him the most trouble. Twice he went by sloop and foot to Scoharie to take his mask, and both times the veteran was away from home. At length Williams came to Peekskill on a visit, General Delavan sent my father word, and he went up there and took it. This was a short time be- fore Williams's death. J. W. Parkinson, a gentleman of leisure in New York fifty years ago, reputed to be a natural son of George IV., once offered my father $3000 for the casts of the captors of André, his inten- tion being to destroy them, but my father refused the offer. There is a story connected with this bust of Forrest the tragedian. There is no hair on the head, you see. When that was taken the actor was com- paratively unknown, having just made his appearance in 'William Tell' at the Old Bowery Theatre. My father declared that he would make an actor of note,
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In Olde New York
and asked to take his mask for his gallery. On the night the bust was taken, Forrest was to play William Tell, and fearing the plaster mould might cling to his hair, he donned a silk cap for the operation."
By and by, as no visitors appeared to interrupt, Mr. Browere's recollections assumed a more personal cast. He submitted to our inspection a time-stained certifi- cate of membership in the National Academy, dated 1838, and signed by Henry Inman, President, and also a letter informing him that his picture of "Canonicus" had drawn the first Academy prize of $100. We were also shown several of his paintings, some California landscapes, and three scenes from the life of Rip Van Winkle.
CHAPTER V
NEW YORK CITY IN 1827
O NE conversant with the history of New York knows how rapidly change has occurred in the city, but he cannot realize it vividly until he has loitered along its streets with some genial veteran who knew the town in his youth, and loves nothing better than to impart his reminiscences to the sympathetic listener. Such a walk in such company we once had the pleasure of taking, our route being down the Bowery from Astor Place to Franklin Square, and thence to the City Hall.
" All north of Astor Place, in 1825," said our com- panion, " was open country, a region of farms, thickets, swamps, market gardens and fine old country seats in extensive grounds. My early memories of the region beyond St. Mark's Church yonder are grue- some enough. It was then known as Stuyvesant Meadows, and gained unenviable notoriety by the hanging there of one John Johnson, whose cast, taken by Browere, may still be seen at Fowler & Wells's. Johnson was the great criminal of his day. He kept a sailor's boarding-house on Water Street, and one
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In Olde New York
night murdered a farmer who had put up at his house, having, as Johnson thought, some money about him. The murderer put the remains in a sack, and was sur- prised, at night, carrying it through Schuyler's Alley toward the river. Guilt made him a coward. He dropped the sack and ran, its contents were thus dis- covered, and he was tried and sentenced by Judge Edwards to be hanged. The procession, up Broad- way to Bleecker, across to the Bowery, then down Ninth Street to the gallows, called out the greatest crowd New York had ever seen, and led to the aboli- tion of such displays. Johnson was attired for the occasion in white, with a white cap drawn over his head. He rode in an open carriage escorted by Stewart's troop of cavalry in advance, and a detach- ment of the National Guard in the rear, while an im- mense crowd of all ages and both sexes followed."
We had now progressed as far down the Bowery as Bleecker Street. "Bleecker was my great black- berry preserve when I was a boy," observed our cicerone, with a sigh. "What luscious berries grew beside the walls on either side, and roses - no such roses bloom nowadays." A few doors below Bleecker, he stopped opposite a beer saloon. "Right here Charlotte Temple lived after her retirement from the stage, and died here. The house was one story high, with two dormer-windows and a trellis on both sides covered with the luxuriant vines of the trumpet-flower.
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New York in 1827
There was a little yard in front about twenty feet deep filled with shrubs and flowers. The house was a Mecca for the good and gifted of the city so long as its mistress resided there, and few strangers of distinction came to the city without paying a visit there. It was known for some time after her death as the 'Temple House,' and finally was turned into a drinking saloon called the Gotham.
"The Bowery in those days resembled a country road; it was unpaved and sandy above Spring Street, and was studded pretty thickly with residences of the gentry. These had high stoops fronting the road, and were embowered in trees and shrubbery. a summer night I have seen whole families on the stoops enjoying the cool of the evening, and children trundling hoops or playing marbles on the sidewalk. There was one institution peculiar to the Bowery in those days, or at least it attained greater perfection there than in other parts of the city. I refer to the hot-corn venders. These were exclusively colored women, each dressed as neatly as though she had come out of a bandbox, with a flaming bandanna handkerchief on her head tied in a peak, West India fashion, the ends hanging down, and clean white or checked apron. They sat on stools at the street corners and noted places, each with a pail beside her, filled with hot corn on the ear, and a small cup on each side, one containing salt and the other butter. When a patron approached she handed
·
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In Olde New York
him a smoking ear, and the salt and butter; the latter he gravely rubbed on the ear and ate as he stood. Their cry was musical, and could be heard blocks away. 'Hot corn, hot corn! here's your lily white hot corn,' they cried, but an old woman who sold on the corner of Hester and Bond Streets, improved on this. Her cry was:
'Hot corn, hot corn! Some for a penny and some two cents. Corn cost money and fire expense, Here's your lily-white hot corn!'
"There were almost as many venders on the streets then as now, but more characteristic and picturesque. Some bore trays containing baked pears swimming in molasses, which the purchaser took between his thumb and finger and ate. The 'sand man' was a verity in those days. All the barrooms, restaurants, and many of the kitchens in the city had sanded floors, and men in long white frocks, with two-wheeled carts, peddling Rockaway sand, were familiar objects on the streets. Then there were the darkeys who sold bundles of straw for filling beds, and an old blind man who sold door-mats made of picked tar rope. One of the most genial and popular landlords in the city I have seen peddling pails of pure spring water in the Bowery at two cents a pail. He brought it from what was then called Greenwich Village, above Aaron Burr's Richmond Hill mansion.
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New York in 1827
"This is the most distinctive landmark of old New York I have seen," he remarked when another block was passed, patting affectionately as he spoke a mossy old mile-stone set in the sidewalk nearly opposite Rivington Street, which bore this legend, "1 Mile from City Hall." "Many a tired passenger in the four-horse tally-ho six days on the road from Boston has gleefully hailed this stone. The drivers of the Harlem and Manhattanville stages always greeted it with a merrier bugle peal. In those days we hadn't thought of a railroad, and the Erie Canal was just being opened. Spring Street marked the limits of the paved streets in this direction when I was a boy and young man. The walks were mostly of bricks laid cat-a-cornered, in those days.
"You see that third house on the side street. There I found my wife. I was passing one morning and saw her through the window looking down the street. Suddenly she became aware that I was staring at her, and slammed the blind to with energy. 'Sam,' said I to my brother, 'that girl's going to be my wife.' Pass- ing that way a few days after, I saw a notice out that boarders would be taken, and presented myself as a candidate. Six months after we were married. That is fifty years ago, and I have never had cause to regret it; she has been a good wife.
"I never cross Grand Street"- we had reached the roar and rush of that thoroughfare - "without
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In Olde New York
thinking of a walk I had down it to the ferry in 1823. There was to be a race that day on a course near where the Union course was opened later, and all New York interested in sport went out there to see it. The race was between Eclipse and Sir Henry, and the great interest taken in it arose from the fact that it had been arranged between the horsemen of the North and South to test the merits of the thoroughbreds of the two sections. Eclipse represented the North and Sir Henry the South. There was not a house on Grand Street then between Essex Street and the ferry. I saw on the south wild marshy pasture fields, with cattle grazing among the black berry and wild-rose bushes, and in the distance on the hills some old Dutch farm- houses. Colonel Willet's place, on the left, a fine old country mansion, I remember, standing back from the road amid its orchards. Grand Street Ferry was then known as the 'Hook' ferry. You would laugh at the ferry-boats of those days. They had open decks with an awning stretched over and benches around the sides, and were propelled by horse-power. From four to sixteen horses were required, and they walked around a shaft in the center of the boat, turn- ing it as sailors turn the capstan, and this shaft by gearing turned the paddle wheels. On some boats the horses worked a tread mill like the modern thresh- ing machines. The North triumphed that day - Eclipse won. I doubt if he would, however, had it
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New York in 1827
not been for Sam Purdy, a noted jockey of that time. Eclipse lost the first heat, and Purdy saw from his place on the judge's stand that his jockey was goring him so terribly that he bled. So he leaped from the stand, pulled the jockey off, and mounted in his place. Eclipse felt the change at once, put his head up and tail out and won the next two heads easily, putting $20,000 in his master's pocket."
Chatham Square and Franklin Square recalled many reminiscences, but not of a nature to interest the public. In City Hall Park, however, our friend's recollections became of more general interest. "The City Hall had just been built then, between two prisons, the Bridewell and jail. The jail, or debtor's prison, was east of the hall and surrounded with a tight board fence about eight feet high. On the Chambers Street side of the Park were three buildings, all under one roof. First (nearest Broadway) was the American or Scudder's Museum, then the Academy of Fine Arts, and the Almshouse, the artist and showman being not far from the Almshouse at that day in more senses than one. John Vanderlyn's Rotunda came next on the east. Vanderlyn had been discovered by Colonel Burr, in an interior town, covering his master's blacksmith's shop with charcoal sketches, and had been sent by him to Paris and Rome for education in art. His 'Marius amid the ruins of Carthage' had taken the prize at Paris under Napoleon, and he re-
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In Olde New York
turned to New York comparatively famous. The city, thinking to do something for American art, built the Rotunda and gave Vanderlyn the lease of it for a studio, and for the exhibition of his pictures. He exhibited there his 'Marius,' 'Ariadne,' and the 'Gar- den of Versailles,' the latter a panorama taking up two sides of the room. Speaking of pictures, Michael Paff once made a lucky discovery. Paff was a picture dealer, having a store on Broadway, near Vesey, and the best art connoisseur in the city. A gentleman in town had a large picture of Esther before King Ahas- uerus, that he had secured at an auction sale, and which his wife was desirous of exchanging for two landscapes at Paff's. Paff good-naturedly made the exchange, but in cleaning up his new purchase dis- covered it to be a genuine Van Dyck. After that he spent about a week to the square inch cleaning and bringing out the original color. Wealthy gentlemen, art patrons, would drop in during the process, and offer to purchase. Paff's first price was $1000, after that he rose $1000 on every offer not accepted. Lyman Reid, the patron of Cole, offered him $7000 for it, which was quickly rejected, Paff's price having then risen to $16,000. I was in the store one day with Alfred Pell and Lyman Reid when Sir Robert Porter came in and offered Paff $12,000 for the picture, saying he was authorized to give that sum and no more by the National Gallery, of London. Paff refused, and held on to the
PORTER.
BEHPOHD &C2 LEARY&CO BATVERS
2
BROADWAY, LOOKING SOUTHWARD FROM CITY HALL PARK This part of City Hall Park is now occupied by the Post Office building. From an old lithographic print in the collection of John D. Crimmins of New York
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New York in 1827
picture till his death. After that event, his widow sold the picture to the National Gallery, it was said, for $20,000. I could give you a volume of reminis- cences about the old American Museum. It had been removed to the site of the later Herald Building, and had ruined several owners, when P. T. Barnum got hold of it and made a success of it.
"A fence surrounded the Park in those days, with an entrance gate on the west. On the Chatham Street side were a number of low one-story buildings - cigar shops, beer saloons, and the pawn-shop of William Stevenson, the first of the kind ever opened in New York. Right opposite, on the corner of Frankfort Street, stood Tammany Hall, the cradle of the present famous organization; the modern sachems, you will reflect, were but papooses then. The Hall was used chiefly for public meetings of a political cast. The real council-room of the braves was a saloon a hundred feet back on Frankfort Street, called the 'Pewter Mug.' Here the chiefs held their pow-wows, and the plan of their campaigns was mapped out. Several lawyers of note had offices in the Hall. Aaron Burr's was on the south side of the building. Many a time have I seen him help Madame Jumel into her carriage stand- ing before the door, and he did it with incomparable grace."
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