After the Adams party had rested for a few days a pleasure trip to Trenton Falls, in Oneida County, was proposed. A few prominent citizens of Utica were invited by the Johnsons to accompany the party, and among them several well-known lawyers whose careers won for them a national as well as local reputation. Among these I may especially mention the handsome Horatio Seymour, then in his prime, whose courteous manners and manly bearing made him exceptionally attractive. Mr. Adams bore the fatigue of the trip remarkably well and his strength seemed undiminished as the day waned. His devoted daughter-in-law remained constantly beside him while at the Falls to administer to his comfort and attend to his wants; in fact, she was so solicitous concerning him that she requested that she might, in going and coming, occupy a carriage as near him as possible. I cannot but regard her as a model for many of the present generation who fail to be deeply impressed by either merit or years.
The Adamses were charming guests, and I have always felt that I was highly privileged to visit under the same roof with them, and especially to listen to the words of wisdom of the venerable ex-President. I have heard it stated, by the way, that during his official life in Washington, Mr. Adams took a daily bath in the Potomac. This luxury he must have missed in Utica, as at this time it offered no opportunities for a plunge except in the "raging canal." Mrs. Charles Francis Adams accompanied her husband when he went to England, during our Civil War, to represent the United States at the Court of St. James. The consummate manner in which he conducted our relations with Great Britain at that critical period marked him as an accomplished statesman and a diplomatist of the rarest skill. The nature of his task was one of extreme delicacy, and it is highly probable that, but for his masterly efforts, England would have recognized the independence of the Southern Confederacy. The energy and fidelity with which he met the requirements of his mission undermined his health and, returning to this country, he retired to his old home in Quincy.
While in Utica I drove in the family carriage with Mrs. Johnson and her sister, Mrs. John W. King, to Peterboro, about twenty-five miles distant, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Gerrit Smith. Mr. Smith had already commenced his crusade against slavery, and the family antipathy to the institution was so strong that two of his nieces, sisters of General John Cochrane, who later became President of the Society of the Cincinnati, refused to wear dresses made of cotton because it was a Southern staple. As I remember this great anti-slavery agitator, he was a remarkably handsome man with an air of enthusiasm which seemed to pervade his whole being. From 1853 to 1855 he was in Congress, and I had the pleasure of listening to one of his scathing speeches on the floor of the House of Representatives in denunciation of slavery. I recall his unusual felicity in the use of Scriptural quotations, one of which still lingers in my ears: "Where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty." His daughter Elizabeth married Charles Dudley Miller, a prominent citizen of Utica. She was a woman of very pronounced views, as may be judged, in part, by the fact that some years after my marriage, and while living in Washington, I met her by accident one day at the Capitol and to my surprise discovered that she was wearing bloomers!
In September, 1849, I was returning to my home in New York from another visit to the Johnsons in Utica, when, upon the invitation of Mrs. Hamilton Fish, whose husband was then Governor of the Empire State, I stopped in Albany and visited them. They were of course occupying the gubernatorial mansion, but its exact location I cannot exactly recall. Life was exceedingly simple in the middle of the last century, even in the wealthiest families, and through all these years I seem to remember but a single incident connected with the family life of these early friends—the trivial fact that the breakfast hour was seven o'clock. Mrs. Fish was a model mother and was surrounded by a large and interesting family of children, some of whom are among the highly prominent people of the present time.
Apropos of the Fish children, an amusing story is told of the keen sense of humor of the late William M. Evarts, who presented in every-day life such a stern exterior. When, on one occasion, he was a guest of the Fish family at their summer home on the Hudson, his attention was called to a large and beautifully executed painting of a group of children which, as was quite apparent, was greatly treasured by the ex-Governor. Mr. Evarts gazed upon the portrait for some minutes in silence and then exclaimed in a low tone, "little Fishes." Mr. Fish stood near his guest but, not catching the exact drift of his remark, replied: "Sir, I do not understand." The bright response was: "Yes, I said little fishes, sardines,"—reminding one of Artemus Ward's definition of sardines, "little fishes biled in ile."
Another witticism of Mr. Evarts's which seems to me deserving of preservation is said to have been uttered during his residence in Washington, when he was Secretary of State under President Hayes. A party of distinguished Englishmen was visiting the National Capital and Mr. Evarts escorted it to Mount Vernon. After inspecting the mansion and the grave of Washington the party walked to the end of the lawn to view the attractive scenery of the Potomac River. One of the Englishmen who seemed decidedly more conversant with certain phases of American history than the others asked Mr. Evarts whether it were really true that Washington could throw a shilling across the Potomac. "Yes," said Mr. Evarts, in a diplomatic tone, "it is quite true." The same evening at a dinner, the Secretary of State repeated the conversation to a mutual friend and added: "He could do even better than that; he could toss a Sovereign across the Atlantic!"
The day after my arrival in Albany, President Zachary Taylor and his suite were the guests of Governor and Mrs. Fish, and the same day a dinner was given in his honor which was attended by prominent State officials. Meanwhile, a concourse of people had surrounded the mansion, anxious to see the President and to demand a speech. Old "Rough and Ready" appeared at an open window and faced the multitude, but was not as "ready" in speech as with his sword. He made a brave attempt, however, to gratify the people, but he seemed exceedingly feeble and his voice was decidedly weak. In the course of his remarks his aide and son-in-law, Colonel William W. S. Bliss, came to his rescue and prompted him, as it were, from behind the scenes; so that everything passed off, as I understood the next day, to the satisfaction of his audience. Possibly this was one of Taylor's last appearances in public, as he died the following summer.
Although Mrs. Fish was at this time a comparatively young woman, she presided over the Governor's mansion with the same grace and ease so characteristic of her career in Washington when her husband was Secretary of State under President Grant. In my opinion, and I know but few who had a better opportunity of judging, Mrs. Fish was in many respects a remarkable woman. For eight years her home was a social center, and she was regarded as the social dictator of the Grant administration. When any perplexing questions of a social nature arose during her régime, the general inquiry was: "What does Mrs. Fish say?" This in time became a standing joke, but it illustrates the fact that her decisions usually were regarded as final.
One of the social leaders in New York during my younger life was Mrs. Isaac Jones, who, in her own set, was known as "Bloody Mary." Why this name was applied to her I cannot say, as she was not in the least either cruel or revengeful, as far as I knew, but on the contrary was suave and genial to an unusual degree. She lived on Broadway, directly opposite the site where the New York Hotel formerly stood, and her entertainments were both numerous and elaborate. She was one of the daughters of John Mason, who began life as a tailor but left at his death an estate valued at a million dollars, which was a large fortune for those days. Isaac Jones was president of the Chemical Manufacturing Company and later became prominently connected with the Chemical Bank of New York. A brother of Mrs. Jones married Miss Emma Wheatley, a superior young woman who, unfortunately for her father-in-law's peace of mind, was an actress. This alliance was most distasteful to the whole Mason connection, and when John Mason was approaching death George W. Strong, a prominent lawyer, was hastily summoned by his daughters to draft his will. Almost immediately following Mr. Mason's funeral a legal battle was commenced over his estate. He left outright to his three daughters their proportionate share of his fortune, but to his son who had displeased him by his marriage he devised an annuity of only fifteen hundred dollars. Charles O'Conor, the counsel for the son, in his argument in behalf of his client, said that Mr. Mason's daughters, instead of sending for a clergyman to console his dying moments, had demanded the immediate presence of a respectable lawyer, "a lawyer so respectable that throughout his entire practice he never had a poor client." Mr. O'Conor succeeded in breaking this will, and young Mason was given his proper share in his father's estate.
One of John Mason's daughters became the wife of Gordon Hammersley, whose son Louis married the beautiful Miss Lilly Warren Price of Troy, the daughter of Commodore Cicero Price of the United States Navy. She subsequently married the Duke of Marlborough, and afterwards Lord William Beresford. The Marlborough-Hammersley ceremony was performed in this country by a justice of the peace, and the new Duchess of Marlborough went to England to live upon her husband's depleted estates. It is said that she was allowed by her late husband's family an annual income of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and Blenheim, which had long felt the strain of "decay's effacing fingers," began again, through the agency of the Hammersley wealth, to resemble the structure once occupied by that tyrant of royalty, the imperious Sarah Jennings.