An American Aristocrat

MY sister-in-law was really the cause of it all, for she first suggested our joining one of the patriotic societies that every one was talking about. She is a sort of double relative — my brother, Frank Clymer, married her (she was Ada Hunter), and her brother, Starr Hunter, married me. Major Hunter, he is. His father was Colonel Hunter, and every one knows his grandfather, the famous General Hunter, of Hunter’s Quarry. I always had a taste for genealogy, and it seemed lovely to be so genealogical in our marriages. Ada and I are very congenial; we are both very particular about finding out whether people are rich and aristocratic before we make their acquaintance.

It was just after I got back from a trip to Europe that we began planning to join something, we could n’t exactly decide what. I ’ve been to Europe fourteen times; it’s really necessary if you want to get into society, and my last trip certainly paid, for I met such a lovely woman in London, — Lady Weedle. She had the most aristocratic manners, so rude and overbearing, and she had been so unfortunate. She had lost all her money and was obliged to take up manicuring for a living. She took a great fancy to me. We used to go to the theatre together (I always leave Major home when I go to Europe), and she selected the restaurants to go to after the play, for of course she knew all about them. She always ordered the suppers, and you have no idea how enormous the charges are in the London restaurants. I never in my life paid such prices for anything as I did for everything she was concerned in, — it proved conclusively how aristocratic she was.

She was interested in genealogy, too. It was through her that I found there was a large family, a lovely old family, of Clymers in England, and strange as it may seem, Lady Weedle herself was descended from a Clymer. Her father was of high birth, but owing to family complications (I do love family complications, they’re so aristocratic!) he was left on the doorstep of a warehouse in London when he was a baby, and after a chequered career, she said, he rose by his own exertions, so she said, and made a great deal of money in the paper business. In those days, you know, paper was manufactured from rags. He was interested in the earliest stages of the process, and he left his daughter quite a fortune. She was a beautiful girl, — she had lost her looks, poor thing, through sorrow, — and she made a lovely marriage, but unfortunately Lord Weedle ran through her money in six weeks and then deserted her, so that when I met her she was living in cheap lodgings, and working for a living. She told me about the Clymer coat-ofarms, and had it copied for me by a friend of hers who is employed by the nobility, — a very expensive person, but it was worth paying for. The crest is a knight, couchant, at the foot of a ladder, rampant, with the motto, Resurgam. The shield is very elegant, it is on an ermine mantle, which Lady Weedle says all genealogists know means royalty, and it has a quantity of quarterings and several bar-sinisters. I had it embroidered on all my things.

However, it was before this that we began joining the societies, and persuading our husbands to join, for we found we were eligible for nearly everything. The Hunters are a very fine family, as well as the Clymers. They trace their descent way back to Bible times, and it seems so curious and lovely that my husband’s earliest ancestor, the first Hunter of whom there are any records, was a Clymer, too. He was influential in putting up the first sky-scraper ever erected. It bade fair to be a very fine building, but, unfortunately, there was a strike amongst the workmen, and it was never finished. It ruined our ancestor, financially. He was obliged to earn his living as a teacher of languages, and he died poor. He is the only poor ancestor I ever heard of, — they are always rich and distinguished. One of Major’s most valuable ancestors was a Smith. He was so fortunate as to be kicked in the head by a mule belonging to General Washington We have the original hoof polished and set in a gold frame in a cabinet in our parlor, and it’s an heirloom we prize above everything. It has gotten three members of the family into the Sons of the Revolution, and seven into the D. A. R.

But to come back to ourselves. At first we really did n’t know which society to choose, for they are all so lovely and we had so many friends in them all. Mrs. Butler wanted us to join her society, the Daughters of the Revolution. She is a beautiful woman. She was a Spooner, daughter of President Spooner of the Equatorial Exploring Expedition. All the Spooners are very handsome, and they are so affectionate and interesting. Her youngest brother, Preston, — Pet, they always called him, — was very wild in college, and in his Sophomore year he decided to leave and go into business, so his father bought him a ranch at Five Forks, Montana, and sent him out there to try cattle-raising. He married a lovely girl soon after his arrival; a bar-maid (he was always very aristocratic and English in his tastes), and they are still living there. She is a lineal descendant of one of the Irish kings, — her name was Rafferty, a tall, commanding woman, with very easy manners and a great deal of conversation. They came East on their wedding trip, and Mrs. Butler gave them a tea, and asked me to receive with her, so I felt that I must join her society.

Well, Ada and I talked it over, and we thought it would be decidedly worth our while to be Colonial Dames, so we got our papers ready and joined, and I never enjoyed anything more than the first meeting we went to, for who should be there but my old friends, Mrs. Barbour and Mrs. Hare. They are sisters, most lovely women. Mrs. Hare is the more attractive. She had a very bad attack of typhoid the year after she was married Dr. Shearer, her husband’s cousin, attended her, and old Dr. Locke was called in several times in consultation, but although they managed to save her life, she lost all her beautiful black curls, and they never grew again. She was perfectly bald, and ever since she has worn an auburn wig. It is very becoming, though. One of the Barbours, an artist, fell desperately in love with her, and painted her as Titian’s Daughter, — a very fine painter, they say, but he broke his heart over her, and died in Poland, where he had gone to divert his mind, about two years ago. I felt so sorry for him. He belonged to the Mayflower Society, and his sister-in-law told me a good deal about it the day we met at the Colonial Dames Ada and I were rather taken with the idea of belonging to a society where husbands are admitted to membership; and when Tommy Hawkes and his wife dined with us not long afterwards, we discussed the subject with them and promised we would join. They are charming people, the Hawkeses. One of his ancestors married an Indian princess, a lovely woman. It is a very sad story, — one of those aristocratic family tragedies. She scalped her husband one day by mistake. It was a most painful affair, and every one knew she must have been slightly deranged to do such a thing, — it runs in the family; all high-toned families have gout or idiocy or some such inheritance. Tommy’s mind was always a little weak, and every one was so glad when he married Mrs. de Shuyster, widow of the great criminal lawyer. She is fifteen years older than Tommy, but very lively and dressy, and takes such good care of him, and she knows how to appreciate his family connections. Her first husband belonged to the Holland Society. She is not really an American, so she does n’t belong to anything, but her family is well known in Paris, she says, and she expects to have a title some day, so she is very popular. She is from New Orleans. She was Zonzon Poissonière, such a pretty name, so French. She speaks French just as well as I speak English.

Mr. de Shuyster’s first wife was a Ketcham, his partner’s sister, a very nice woman. She died of measles when she was seventy-six years old, — she took it from one of her grandchildren, — and then he married Zonzon. He only lived six months, and left her all his money. Of course his family contested the will, but they compromised, and she got a large sum from the heirs, so that with the addition of the Hawkes money she and Tommy are very comfortable.

The end of it all is that now Ada and I and our husbands belong to all the best societies, and we are so happy. It certainly gives you a peaceful feeling to know that every one knows you are an aristocrat. You first rest on your ancestors, and you have no responsibility yourself. I can’t imagine how any one ever distinguished the aristocrats from the commonest people before the societies were founded. I know my mother used to say that when she was young ever so many people did n’t seem to realize what a lovely family she belonged to. But that is over now, and we are all perfectly satisfied with ourselves, for you may take my word for it, there is no one in the world so aristocratic as an American Aristocrat.