Chapter XXVI

Mrs. Embury the authoress is the wife of Daniel Embury, the President of a Brooklyn Financial Institution. He is the son of Peter Embury.

Jacob Barker used to be an eminent merchant. We remember Mr. Barker very well. He resided in a three-story house in Beekman street, between Gold and Cliff streets. The steps were sideways to the door. On it was a brass plate with his name. That was probably twenty-five years ago. After Mr. Barker removed to New Orleans, the house was occupied by his mother-in-law, and the door-plate had upon it the name of "Mrs. Hazard." At that period the daughters of Mr. Barker were deemed among the most beautiful in the city. They were all married many years ago. Sarah married a Mr. Harrison of Baltimore. I believe an elder sister had previously married a citizen of the State of Maryland. Another daughter, a magnificent girl, married Mr. Brower, a very wealthy and extensive merchant in New Orleans. He died. She afterwards married a Mr. Van Zandt of this city. A son of Mr. Barker married into the James family at Albany.

Mr. Barker was a remarkably driving man. If he had an appointment with a man, he waited just five minutes, and not a second longer; then, if the man with whom he had an appointment did not come, Mr. B. left, and never after would he make an appointment with the same man.

Even to this day, every story-teller, who wishes to be smart, tells the story of Jacob Barker and the President of the Insurance Company. It's very stale, and I will not present it to the readers of this volume.

If I had time, I would go back to the panic times of 1826, when Jacob Barker was in his glory. Then the Franklin Bank, Marble Manufacturing Company, Hudson Bank of Jersey City, Jefferson Insurance Company, and other institutions, went to the Old Nick. Jacob was mixed up with them all. So was Henry Eckford, Malipar, George L. Pride and many others.

Henry Eckford and Jacob Barker were both indicted for conspiracy. Hugh Maxwell was the District Attorney in those gay days. Barker plead his own case. He was so successful that it gave him the first idea he ever entertained that he was capable of becoming a clever lawyer. In after years he went to New Orleans, studied law regularly, and made it his profession.

Malipar was President of the Marble Manufacturing Company. He was merely a tool of sharp men behind the curtain. His occupation previous to 1825 was keeping a bar and refreshment saloon at Castle Garden, a favorite resort for our citizens in the summer season.

George L. Pride was the cashier of the Marble Bank arrangement. He flourishes yet, and is the youngest very old man in the city. He is now a Custom House broker in Broad street, near Wall. For many years Mr. Pride held an appointment in the Custom House. No old New Yorker but what is familiar with George L. Pride. He was a gay boy fifty years ago, and danced at old Richard Varick's parties in 1810, being then about thirty years old. Captain Edward Vincent, James B. Glentworth, and Mr. Pride used to drive out to Cato's in the early summer mornings, and drink mint-juleps together previous to the late war with England in 1812.

Never were men kept in such a state of preservation even until now. The only instance is Wagner, the Wehr-Wolf, who was rejuvenated at ninety, and kept young and fresh-looking many years.

The old adage of "Pride must have a fall," is false in the case of George L. He is as young to-day as he was fifty years ago. He has few wrinkles, and crow's feet are unknown in his face. He has led a life of unmitigated enjoyment. Mr. Pride never has known the want of money. He has driven the best horses—the finest eating—the choicest wines—the oldest brandy—and admired the handsomest women the city ever produced, from the grandmother in 1810, to the great-grand-daughter in 1862. His gratifications have been unlimited. There is not a man in the city of New York who can say aught against this veteran man of the world, and yet a man of business withal. He married a Miss Garr of an old family. Mr. Pride is a pleasant companion, social, and kind. While he enjoys himself without stint, he is always willing to offer enjoyment to others.

Many people mix up the name of Malipar with Malibran who married the senorita Garcia. It is entirely a different concern. Mr. Malibran was an Italian merchant, at one time possessing great wealth. He figured in this city in 1820 to 1827. In 1826 the Garcia family resided here. Miss Garcia gave singing lessons—taught music, etc. to young ladies of the upper crust. There are many matrons now alive who were taught musical lessons by the Garcias. They went off on a tour to Mexico; when they returned, she sang here in public. The last time Miss Garcia sang in New York was in the opera of "Tancredi," at the Bowery Theatre, in 1828. Hilfert was the manager then. She was soon after married to Mr. Malibran, who settled a large sum of money upon her, and it was agreed to by her that she would not go upon the stage again. Her future history is well known to New York people. Mr. Malibran was separated from her. He died in this city in 1834, very poor.

In former chapters we have alluded to the firm of John & Philip Hone, auctioneers, afterwards John Hone & Sons. One of the concern was George A. Ward. He came here from Salem, Mass., the same town that gave birth to the illustrious Jonathan Goodhue, the founder of the great house of Goodhue & Co. in this city. Mr. Goodhue was sent to New York by William Gray, the eminent Boston merchant. He had been out as supercargo for old Billy Gray to the East Indies. Mr. George A. Ward must now be at least three score and ten years old. He came to this city and began his commercial life as a clerk in 1816, or earlier, perhaps. He prides himself much upon being a descendant from good old stock. He is a believer in thoroughbred "humans" as well as horses. He married a Miss Cushing, and her mother is still alive, although ninety-two years old. She is one of the finest and most amiable of old ladies. She resides with her son-in-law at Staten Island; the aged dame reads without the use of spectacles, her hearing is perfect, and she walks about and skips around the house as agile as a young miss of sixteen. Originally well educated, and having been a close reader for seventy years, she is charming; she takes a deep interest also in the politics of the nations; she is older than the Constitution of the United States, and prays God that she may not outlive it; she is a Unitarian and a federalist. So is her son-in-law, Mr. Ward. He prides himself on being called the latter. By the way, as this is a federal government, I think it would be better for the world if we were all federalists.

For a long time Mr. Ward was clerk in the great auctioneer house of J. & P. Hone. When John Hone & Son was firmed, he became a partner in it. After John Hone's death Mr. Ward left the concern. Soon after that, hoping to get a good share of the business of the old house, he started a new auctioneer concern, under the name of Woolsey, Ward & Beach. They kept on the corner of Pine and Pearl streets. On another corner was Shotwell, Fox & Co. On another Adee, Timpson & Co. On the fourth corner was David Adee, & Co. All auctioneer stores. Woolsey, Ward & Beach did a very heavy business for a few years, and in 1830 they dissolved.

After that disconnection Mr. Ward went to Europe to solicit consignments of dry goods to the house of Gracie, Prime & Co. That house, backed up by the celebrated banker, Nathaniel Prime, was doing an extensive business at No. 26 Broad street, a new store recently erected. They determined to go into the dry goods business, and in order to do so, they had made an arrangement with Mr. William Macfarlane, who had been the dry goods manager for G. G. & S. Howland many years. Mr. M. was an excellent judge of goods, and a capital salesman. He is still in New York in business. Mr. Ward went abroad, visited Manchester and different parts of England and Scotland, and was very successful. He moved in the highest of mercantile circles. Mr. Ward always entertained a good opinion of himself and his position. As a sample of his harmless egotism, when he reached England on his mission of dry goods, the cholera on its mission of death had reached Russia. It was expected that it would come to England. Mr. Ward wrote home to his New York correspondents that such was his opinion, but added, "I understand the cholera does not touch the higher classes, and consequently I have no dread of its approach."

True enough, the cholera did not molest Mr. Ward, and after visiting various parts of Europe, and extending his knowledge vastly, he returned to America.

After his return to New York he became a partner in the house of Low, Harriman & Co., and they did a large and successful business. They dissolved in 1837, and Mr. Ward retired with a clear $100,000.

He was and is a fine looking man, and has had many friends. He is quite a literary man, too, and about twenty years ago published a large octavo book, entitled the "Loyalists of America." Price $2. It sold very extensively among his personal friends. Among the things to be desired is a copy of that book, and Mr. Ward cannot perform a greater service than to send a copy to the author of this volume.

After Mr. Ward retired from the house of Low, Harriman & Co., he was induced to go into the Staten Island speculation with J. L. & S. Joseph, Thos. E. Davies, George Griffin, and George Griswold. It was called the New Brighton Association. Ward put in $80,000. They issued superb bonds of $1,000. Such beautiful engravings! Never was anything more magnificent before or since. We will give a dollar for one to frame, as a worthless curiosity. Lots on Rich mond Terrace were sold. Elegant maps were got up of this property. The streets were all laid out in a style far surpassing New York. It was nearer the sea; why should not New Brighton surpass and go ahead of New York? All kinds of fancy names were given to the streets. Then there was a gas company started. Water was to be brought from a long "lake" called Fresh Pond, lying two miles back of New Brighton, up in the highest hills of Staten Island. The pond was two miles long, and filled with fresh water, of course.

This was to supply the "Fountain." Models of all the fountains in Versailles, Berlin, Constantinople, and Vienna, had been secured by Mr. Ward when abroad. The New Brighton fountains were to be copies or superior to old Europe in that regard.

The principal "Village of Fountains" was to be located where Mr. Goodhue now has a place, about half a mile back from Richmond Terrace. These fountains were to play eternally, summer and winter.

All the rich people were to live in "castles." Mr. Ward built the first one. It is sixty feet square, and modelled after one in Switzerland. It still stands as a land mark of old times—still called "Ward's Castle," and he still resides in it.

Those were white days, and Mr. Ward was a king-pin at New Brighton. I recollect on one occasion a grand fancy ball came off. Mr. Ward appeared as General Washington. He was dressed precisely as the old hero, even to the dress when he took the oath as President at the corner of Nassau and Wall street. Anybody who was not posted would have supposed that Mr. Ward was the real General Washington.

Mr. Ward has had the gout for several years; it has kept him closely confined to his house. He is decidedly a literary man of correct taste. He is writing constantly, and has prepared a large mass of valuable manuscripts, that will be published for the benefit of his family after his death, and will be a legacy far more valuable to them than money. Mr. Ward has always been a leading man among the brilliant class with which he associated. He surrounds himself with eminent and learned men.

That venerable lady, Mrs. Alexander Hamilton, the wife of the man killed by Aaron Burr in a duel, up to the time of her death, and for many years previous, was a constant visitor at the residence of Mr. Ward. He must have received a vast mass of historical information from her lips. In fact, she was a literary lady herself. Mr. Ward is notoriously British or toryish in his notions, and has not a particle of confidence in an unfortunate country that has no hereditary aristocracy. At any rate, Mr. Ward's papers, when published, will be found full of interest and of value.

He is the greatest beau in the village of New Brighton at this moment, and will continue to be so while he lives.

Lots at one time sold in that place as high as $100 for 25 x 100. The United States Bank foreclosed a mortgage for $470,000, and it sold for a song. The purchasers made vast fortunes, but Mr. Ward lost every dollar of his $80,000. He was choused out of every cent he had in the world. Did it daunt him? No.

When the gold fever broke out in California, the United States chartered the packet ships Rhone and Sylvia de Grasse to carry our troops to the Pacific. Mr. Ward went to work, and by means of his friends collected merchandise of various kinds, and took it with him in one of the above named vessels, going around Cape Horn. This was in 1849. He was five months making the voyage. When he reached San Francisco, he found every article he had on board in great demand. He took out $40,000 worth. On that sum he realized $80,000 clear profit. He was content, and returned home to Staten Island, where he has remained quiet ever since, and as his money is judiciously invested, he is contented and happy. He has always resided in his "Castle."

He entertains well, and every body of any note that visits New Brighton when the Pavilion Hotel is opened, is invited to Ward Castle. He holds a levee once a week—winter and summer, and to them come all his neighbors and friends.