Chapter X

Some strange coincidences occur occasionally. This day week, the author took his pen in hand, (Tuesday morning last) to write the ninth chapter of this book. Little did he dream, when he was writing about Granville Sharp Oldfield, formerly of the firm of Oldfield, Bernard & Co., that then, on that very day, within an hour of his writing, he, Mr. Oldfield, was dying in the lunatic asylum at Baltimore. So it was.

Mr. Oldfield, as we mentioned last week, became insane some time ago, and yet he signed checks until within a few days of his death, when he became unconscious of what was passing around him, and last Tuesday, the 3d of July, quietly died. About checks he was eccentric. Whenever he drew one in his prosperous days, it was made payable to "order," and he never failed to accompany the person to whom he gave the check, to the bank, and see it paid.

Now that he is dead, all his faults will be buried with him. He had two children—a son and a daughter. He believed as many fathers in England do, that children should obey parents in all things—even in the matter of marrying. That a father of standing should select a wife for his son, and a husband for a daughter, and that love was absurd nonsense, if the match brought wealth, connection, or mutual advantages.

Mr. Oldfield was a lover of the fine arts; that is, he spent about $60,000 in purchasing a choice and rare collection of paintings. They were sold about a year ago, and brought fabulous prices. His son, upon whom he had lavished all his affections, was killed. His daughter Isabella married Mr. John Wright, of the great American firm of Maxwell, Wright & Co., of Rio Janeiro. Mr. Oldfield was a regular John Bull. He was for a long time the agent at Baltimore, of "Lloyds, London," and of Barclay & Livingston, of this city.

The firm of Barclay & Livingston is English and ancient. It was originally "Henry & George Barclay." They were sons of Thomas Barclay, who was British consul in New York in the early years of the Republic, when Washington, Adams and Jefferson were Presidents. Although born in this city, yet the Barclays claim to be and are "British born," for they were born under the flag of the British consulate, their father being consul. Henry Barclay left the house about twenty-eight years ago, and retired up the river to a place called Saugerties. There he became a principal stockholder in a paper manufactory, called the "Saugerties Paper Company." About this time he picked up a smart foreman named Moses Y. Beach, who has since become famous in connection with the Daily Sun now owned by his son Moses S. Beach. The agent in the city was Robert Gracie, then doing business at No. 20 Broad street, as Gracie & Co. The advances made by Mr. Gracie were enormous. He purchased the rags needed, or imported them in large quantities from Italian ports. To make a long story short, the paper company got behind-hand with Mr. Gracie about $45,000, when he placed the papers in the hands of Robert Sedgwick. An injunction from the Chancellor followed, and was served upon Moses Y. Beach in 1833. Shortly after he came to New York, and the paper used by the Sun he would buy in small parcels from the old stock stuck upon Mr. Robert Grade.

H. & G. Barclay had a smart clerk named Schuyler Livingston. When Henry Barclay retired, this clerk was made a partner, and the firm changed to Barclay & Livingston. Some time after, Colonel Anthony Barclay, another brother, came from Savannah, where he had married a wealthy widow named Glen, and became a partner, and the firm was changed to Barclays & Livingston. Anthony Barclay lived in Dey street, near Greenwich, for a long time. Then he moved up to College Place. When James Buchanan gave up, Anthony Barclay succeeded him as British consul. The widow Glen had one son, named Tom Glen; he died many years ago; but few young men were so well known about town as poor Tom Glen. Barclay's own sons were a splendid set of fine fellows. There was Clarence, Henry, Delancy, and others whose names I forget—where are they all now? Their fine figures are seen no more in the haunts they once frequented. They are all dead save one. One daughter remains, and she I notice was recently presented to the Queen of England.

George Barclay had but one child, and she married Frank Rives, a son of the Hon. William C. Rives of Virginia.

The Barclays prided themselves on being English, and at the head of a commercial house of the first class. They were "Lloyd's Agents" for the City of New York. They never meddled with politics. Mr. Schuyler Livingston, the American partner, was a Democrat. It is a very common fact, that for thirty-four years (since 1828) very few merchants of the first class have been Democrats. The mass of large and little merchants have like a flock of sheep gathered either in the Federal, Whig, Clay, or Republican folds. The Democratic merchants could have easily been stowed in a large Eighth avenue railroad car. Schuyler Livingston, George Douglas, Moses Taylor, Charles Secor, James Lee, August Belmont, are about all the prominent names that I can remember, or who were found as officers at the great Douglas ratification meeting at old Tammany a few nights ago.

I am by no means certain that Anthony Barclay, when he became British consul, continued a partner in the firm of Barclay & Livingston. I think he gave way in favor of one of his sons.

He was removed as consul at the request of the American government, for trying to enlist men for the Crimea. It was understood very well in England, that while he was publicly reproved by a removal, he was privately rewarded with a retiring pension of £10,000, which he will draw while he lives. In fact he is better off, in a pecuniary point of view, than when rushing about New York as British consul.

There were to be found in this great city, thirty years and odd ago, experienced merchants who have retired from active mercantile business, and engaged in pursuits equally important. I have in my eye now the very form and figure of one of these, William O'Brien, who was engaged in the ship broker business, or rather in adjusting the claims of merchants or other insurers, upon insurance companies. In the days I speak of, Mr. O'Brien was the only person in the city who did that particular but important specialitie. He made up "general averages" for ships and cargoes lost, and such was the confidence in his capacity, integrity, and correctness, that his adjustments were never disputed by port wardens, insurers, or insurance companies. He was a true Irish gentleman, and possessed great conversational powers. His office was in Wall street, between (what is now) Hanover and Pearl streets. His residence was in Broome street, around the corner from Broadway toward Crosby. He was very jovial and social, and held his levees regularly once or twice a week. His house was always open to his friends. No Irish gentleman of any note ever passed through New York, without making his appearance at the residence of Mr. O'Brien in Broome street. The best wines and liquors in the United States could be found in perfection upon Mr. O'Brien's good old fashioned mahogany side board. No man died more regretted; he left several children. Two of his sons, William and John O'Brien, were for many years engaged in the Mechanics Bank—one as book-keeper and one as first teller. They left the bank to found the house of W. & J. O'Brien, some years ago, and are now doing a very extensive brokerage business in Wall street. In fact, the O'Briens are probably as much respected, and do as large a business as any financial house in Wall street.

Another old and well known name in the haunts of commerce was Peter H. Schenck. His store was in Maiden Lane, just below Pearl street. The sign was "P. A. Schenck & Co." His partner's name was Samuel G. Wheeler. Mr. W. was the step-father of D. B. Allen, the agent, and son-in-law of the world renowned Commodore Vanderbilt, who in those days had hardly emerged from the shell of an oyster boat captain.

Peter H. Schenck was the first man that ever started a manufactory for domestic fabrics in this State. Before the war, he and Henry Cowing started a cotton factory at Fishkill Landing, up the North River. It is now called Mattewan. In 1812 these two enterprising men had got the factory fully under weigh when the war broke out. A large British fleet was off the entrance of the port of New York. A strict blockade was carried on by the British, for every other Atlantic port. But these men were not to be subdued. While the war lasted they had all the cotton they required at their factory wagoned from Charleston, South Carolina, to Fishkill Landing, New York, a distance of over 900 miles, and when the roads were not what they are now.

There were two of the brothers Cowing—Henry and Ward. They originated in Rhode Island; and Henry went from Providence to Charleston as a sort of tin, clock, or Yankee notion pedlar. He married in Charleston a niece of the celebrated Langdon Cheeves, who was the president of the old United States Bank until Nick Biddle was elected in his place. The other brother, Ward Cowing, used to go out to Mobile and New Orleans every year, to purchase cotton for the celebrated firm of Dudley & Stuyvesant. While P. H. Schenck went on steadily making money, the Cowings, with all their great advantages, partly broke down. Their sister, Jane Cowing, started a large boarding house at Nos. 5, 7 and 9 Murray street. Henry Cowing had two daughters, Anne and Mary. The latter married little William Powell, the artist, who has painted a painting called "De Soto landing at the mouth of the Mississippi," now in the possession of the government at Washington.

What a funny lot of boarders there was at the Cowing fashionable boarding house. Among them was the now famous Dr. Peckham, who lives up at the corner of Fifth avenue and Twenty-third street, in massy, magnificent style. When he lived at Cowing's he paid $350 a week, slept in an attic, (two beds in the room) but mealed with the high class $14 boarders. He married by means of his boarding house connection, the widow Stuyvesant, of the Stuyvesant who was of the firm of Dudley & Stuyvesant, and settled with her relations for her dower at the sum (cash down) of $60,000. Her maiden name was Milderberger. With the $80,000 Peckham went to work and purchased a large quantity of land where the Fifth Avenue Hotel now stands. Then he got some money from his wife's father. He has slowly accumulated until he is worth at least $500,000.

Peter H. Schenck was a truly great man. He continued his factory at Mattawan until he died. He also erected a machine factory. He started a cloth (woolen) factory called the "Rocky Glen Cloth Co.," but Clay's compromise tariff knocked spots out of that. He died leaving a large property behind him.

For many years a house heavily in the Mediterranean trade was Davis & Brooks. They occupied the same store in Broad street (north east corner of Garden or Exchange street,) that had been previously occupied by Oldfield, Bernard & Co. Davis & Brooks sold largely every year fruits and wines, principally at auction. Their auctioneer was the celebrated William F. Pell, in Coffee House Slip. This is a favorite way with many large commission houses to get rid of goods easily, and save their commission. If owners of goods abroad knew how faithlessly their consignments were managed here, they would never consign merchandise to what are called the large commission houses, but consign at once to an auctioneer, and save large commissions. These large commission houses, as a general rule, do not pay devoted attention to the sales of merchandise consigned to them. It is left to inexperienced clerks or sent to auction, and the charges made on the account sales are not such as occur, but according to a tariff fixed by the house.

To return to Davis & Brooks. Charles A. Davis made for himself a great but ephemeral literary fame in 1830 to 1886, as the writer of the famous "Major Jack Downing letters." These letters appeared in the New York Express. They were supposed to be written by a Yankee major, who represented himself as sleeping with Gen. Andrew Jackson, the President of the United States.

It was considered so remarkable that a commission merchant should create a sensation with his pen, aside from the legitimate way of signing checks, that Mr. Davis, (though he never wrote a line besides the Downing letters) took rank at once among the literary stars of America, and ranked with Bryant, Irving, Halleck or Bancroft; and no literary society could get over a dinner without author Davis being present.

General Jackson regarded the author of these letters as a silly person; and if he could have caught would have drowned him.

Mr. Brooks, the other member of the firm, never attempted a greater sensation than to be the partner of the literary Davis. In the same firm, Mr. Downing Davis had a nephew named Charles Davis, a glorious fellow years ago. He married a daughter of Mr. Elihu Townsend, of the highly respectable and rich Wall street broker firm, Nevins & Townsend. The lady was rich, and Charles Davis retired a millionaire. Few persons have more sincere and more devoted friends. Young Charles Davis is amiable, accomplished, and had he devoted himself to commerce, would have been one of the most eminent merchants of 1860.

Another partner in the firm of Davis & Brooks, was Theodore Dehon, a son of the late Bishop of South Carolina.

When the firm of Davis & Brooks ceased to exist by the retirement of the two principal partners, Mr. Dehon continued the business and with great success.

Davis, Brooks & Co. became very largely engaged in the iron trade during the last twenty years of their commercial existence.