The recent death of New York’s oldest and most respected citizen, Peter Cooper, has caused the publication of a flood of reminiscences of the philanthropist, many of which I have already, at different times, presented in the course of these reminiscences. But there is one story in which Peter Cooper figures which has never yet been publishedâa story which shows the âsentimental sideâ of Peter Cooper, and will go to prove that, a happy man in his own domestic relations, he always appreciated true sentiment and affection in other people.
Many years ago there was quite a resort for artists and literary people, known as the Wellingtonâs, in Neilson place, a street running from Clinton place to Eighth street, where âthe Church of the Strangersâ is now located. The âWellingtonsâ were two sisters, old maids, who were very fond of âliteraryâ people, though not at all âliteraryâ âemselves. They kept a boarding house and almost all of their borders were âliteraryâ people, or artists, or musicians. When these âliteraryâ people, or artists, or musicians, had money, they paid for their board and lodginâ, and lived very comfortably; and when they didn’t have moneyâwhich was very frequentâthey didn’t pay for their board and lodginâ, but had it all the same, which was a very good arrangement for the âliteraryâ people, and artists, and musicians, though not so good for the Wellington sisters.
Among the borders at the âWellingtonâsâ was a young and good-lookinâ artist named Melbyâa smart chap, born, I believe, in Norway, but he had come to America when young; had lived in New York for years; and never had a chance to âtravel,â or to do himself justice, and show what was in him, and was of a consumptive tendency.
A lady named Cuddehy also boarded at the Wellingtonâs. She was a very smart lady, but not at all attractive in personal appearance, big, raw-boned and awkward, but possessed of great talents and a âbeautiful soul,â one of the best-hearted and clearest-headed women that ever livedâa woman whose soul was a sort of constant protest against her âbody,â the former beinâ as charminâ as the latter was ugly. This Mrs. Cuddehy, who was a widow, was quite an artist herself, and had been appointed the head of the art school, or school of design for women, at the Cooper Instituteâa capacity in which she gave universal satisfaction. She loved the duties of her position and accomplished a great deal of good. Peter Cooper, who took the liveliest personal interest in everythinâ connected with his institution, took the warmest interest in this Mrs. Cuddehy, and liked her very much.
Boardinâ in the same house with Melby, seeinâ him every day at meals and every eveninâ, Mrs. Cuddehy got to like the young artist personally very much. She took stock in him and always believed that if he could only get his health restored, get rid of his consumptive tendency, and show what was in him, he would make a great artist. Naturally she got much attached to him, and pretty soon the two, Melby and Cuddehy, were always to be seen together. They sat next to each other at table and spent the evenings together when not otherwise engaged.
Mrs. Cuddehy had a good salary, punctually paid. Melby was not so fortunate pecuniarily, and had to depend upon chance âorders.â Consequently he was often in arrears for board, and beinâ a strictly honest man, would then deny himself little luxuries which had by habit become necessities, and the loss of which told materially on his health.
Without sayinâ a word about it, Mrs. Cuddehy so fixed matters that whenever Melby was âhard upâ she furnished the funds for his comfortable maintenance, arranginâ it with the Wellingtons that nothinâ was known about it. One excuse or other was always given, and for a long while Melby was in ignorance of the real cause of the uniform kindness with which he was treated by his landladies.
Sometimes Mrs. Cuddehy would pretend that some unknown patron of the arts–some mysterious admirer of Melbyâsâwould take a fancy to some of his pictures, and would purchase âem of him, the real purchaser beinâ, of course, herself. At last, by some little accident, the secret transpired, and then Melby, like a true gentleman as he was, overcome by gratitude and admiration, offered all he had to offerâhimselfâto his estimable benefactress. But with the true nobility of soul that characterized all her actions, the lady refused to even consider his proposition, and insisted on leavinâ him free, a course of action on her part which made him more bound to her than ever.
Finally, the doctor, whom Mrs. Cuddehy insisted on consultinâ in regard to Melby’s health, pronounced his decided opinion that a course of foreign travel and relief from worry and work was absolutely necessary to Melby’s life. This was all very well as an opinion, but what did it amount to? Melby must work and worry or starve, or, what was worse to him than starvinâ, live upon the kindness of his friends. The doctor might as well have insisted upon Melby’s beinâ a rich man as upon his gettinâ free from work and worry and travelinâ abroad. Even if Mrs. Cuddehy had been willinâ to pay his traveling expenses, which she was, she was not able to pay âem, and Melby was not willinâ to accept. So the foreign travel idea came near falling through. But by this time Peter Cooper had heard of the friendship of Melby and Cuddehy, and had got warmly interested in it. Peter Cooper himself had been happy in his love affairs; he had married the only woman he had ever loved; had been always happy with her; had a devoted wife and lovinâ children, and felt tenderly himself towards all tenderness in others.
Appreciating the feelinâs of Mrs Cudahy towards her protege, Peter Cooper one day, in the most delicate and considerate manner, though he didn’t care much about the fine arts, took it into his head that he wanted some artist to visit for him the picture galleries of Europe, and suggested to Mrs. Cuddehy that she should offer, in his name, a commission to her friend Melby to go abroad for six months at his expense.
Of course Mrs. Cudahy at once penetrated into Mr. Cooper’s motive, and blessed him for it. And that very night she made Cooper’s offer to Melby, who in his turn at once appreciated alike Cooper’s motive and his obligations to Mrs. Cuddehy. Melby gladly accepted the offer, but only on one conditioâthat Mrs. Cuddehy should accompany him.
Mrs. C. had never been abroad herself and had always longed to travel. Melby knew this, and knew what a treat it would be for her to see foreign parts, especially in his company.
     Peter Cooper had not only offered to pay Melby’s expenses abroad, but had agreed to give him a certain salary as his âagent.â Now, Melby at once suggested that he didn’t need and wouldn’t take any âsalary.â It would be quite enough for him, and more than he had any right to expect, if Mr. Cooper would simply pay his travelinâ expenses. Let his salary be paid over to Mrs. Cuddehy and serve as her travelinâ expenses. If Mr. Cooper would agree to this, Melby was ready to go at once. If Mr. Cooper did not agree, he would not go at all, come what would. Melby was too much of a man to avail himself of a woman’s kindly feelinâ. He would not go abroad in comparative luxury, leavinâ the woman who had been mother, and sister, and sweetheart, and nurse to him all in one, mopinâ at home.
In vain Mrs. Cuddehy warmly and generously protested against Melby’s determination. He was resolute, and Mrs. Cuddehy was obliged to communicate his decision to Peter Cooper.
Needless to say, Peter’s Cooper’s heart understood and appreciated at once the heart of Melby. Needless to say he agreed to Melbyâs proposition, though he insisted upon increasinâ the allowance he had made for the travelinâ expenses, so as to include the two.
In a few weeks later the young artist, Melby, and his faithful friend, Mrs Cuddehy, sailed, at Peter Cooper’s expense, to Europe, and enjoyed âemselves immensely, seeinâ all that was to be seen, and blessinâ Peter Cooper every day.
But the fiat had gone forth. Spite of foreign travel and temporary freedom from work and worry, Melby died abroad of consumption, and was buried at Florence, with his ever faithful friend, Mrs. Cuddehy, as chief mourner.
Mrs. Cuddehy returned alone to New York, and died shortly after her return. She lived in a room on Broadway, the walls of which were completely covered with picturesâpictures of her own, and of Melby’s composition, principally Melbyâsâand she died there, with Melby’s pictures at her as her chief mourners.
And she diedâas hundreds of other women have lived and diedâblessinâ Peter Cooper.
[Editor’s notes: While the core of this column may be true, i.e. the friendship of Lucy A. Cuddehy and Fritz Melbye, and the generosity of Peter Cooper, some particulars are in error. Fritz Melbye, one of three artist brothers, was very well-traveled even before his years in New York; and even when based in New York, made several trips throughout the regions of the United States. He had shared a studio in Caracas, Venezuela, with painter Camille Pissarro; and toured the Caribbean with American painter Frederic Church.
Melbye is recognized now as a significant artist, with works in major art museums.
It may be that Melbye and Mrs. Cuddehy went to Europe together in 1866. Melbye never returned to the United States, but continued touring the Far East, visiting Japan and China, where he died in Shanghai in 1869. Mrs. Cuddehy did return to New York, but embarked on another journey in 1871. She died en route to Liverpool. Her obituary was brief, and her own artwork is unknown:]
