During our summers at Po-ne-sang our servants made both hard and soft soap in a large kettle which swung from an iron tripod in the yard. They also made apple and peach butter, a German marmalade that was highly regarded in that section of the country. The apples or peaches were allowed to cook slowly all day in a kettle suspended from the tripod and were stirred by wooden paddles, whose handles were long enough to enable them to be worked at a convenient distance from the fire. In making this marmalade, cider was regarded as an important ingredient and the sugar was seldom added until the last. Mr. Gouverneur experimented somewhat in wine making. His success was almost phenomenal and we enjoyed the fruits of his labor for many years. He used Catawba grapes entirely, which were brought to our door in wagon-loads by the country folk who surrounded us.

The Maryland mountaineers, as I knew them, were very similar in life and character to those in North Carolina, of whom more or less has been written the last few years. They had peculiar customs as well as quaint modes of action and expression, and invented names for things and conditions to suit themselves. I remember, for example, that when persons showed signs of physical illness and the exact nature of their maladies was uncertain they were said to have "the gobacks." Frederick County was settled by the early Germans and many of their expressions are still in vogue. A peach dried whole with the seed retained is called a hutzel, and dried apples are snitz. In this connection I am reminded of a German family named House, which resided in Frederick and consisted of four maiden sisters. Their means were limited and they eked out their living by stamping from original designs and taking in plain sewing. Their front door was always locked and bolted, and to reach the inmates it was necessary to pass through a gate leading into a long alley and thence through a scrupulously clean kitchen and up the steep and narrow back stairs to a small rear room, where sat these four spinsters. The first one who met you said, "Good-morning," and the others repeated the salutation in turn until the last one was reached, who simply said, "Morning." This laughable procedure was followed in their subsequent conversation, for one of them had only to lead off with a remark and the others repeated the close of it. It is said that Crissie, the youngest of the quartette, once had a beau with whom she sat each night for many years in their prim parlor and that, when he finally jilted her, one of her sisters was heard to remark, apropos of the broken engagement: "Just think of all them candles wasted!"

The second winter of our Maryland life was spent at a hotel in Frederick where we formed a lasting friendship with our fellow boarders, Judge and Mrs. John A. Lynch. With my historical as well as social tastes, I found the McPherson household a source of great pleasure and intellectual profit to me. I knew Mrs. "Fanny" McPherson, as she was invariably called, only as an elderly woman who retained all the graces and charms of youth. To listen to her tales of bygone days was a pleasure upon which I even yet delight to dwell. She lived to a very great age surrounded by her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren, and went to her grave beloved by all. She was the granddaughter of Thomas Johnson, the first Governor of Maryland. I remember reading on one occasion a letter which she took great pride in showing me, written to her grandfather by Washington, offering him the position of Secretary of State in his cabinet. This flattering offer he declined, but to him is said to belong the honor of having nominated Washington as Commander in Chief of the Army.

Mrs. McPherson was nearly related to Mrs. John Quincy Adams, who was Louisa Catharine Johnson of this same Maryland family, and, as she was an occasional visitor at the White House during her relative's residence there, she mingled with many prominent people. I recall a weird story she once told me in connection with a daughter of Smith Thompson, Secretary of the Navy under President Monroe. It seems she married the Viscount Paul Alfred de Bresson, the third Secretary of the French Embassy in Washington, and subsequently many elaborate entertainments were given in her honor in Washington. She returned with her husband to Europe and several months later her family received the announcement of her death. As they had only recently received a letter from her, when apparently she was in the best of health and spirits, they felt somewhat skeptical and wrote at once for more definite information. A few weeks later a package reached them containing her heart preserved in alcohol. Mrs. McPherson's older daughter, Mrs. Worthington Ross, lived with her mother and ministered with loving hands to her wants in her old age, while the remainder of her life was devoted to unselfish labor in her Master's vineyard. Her memory, as well as that of her only child, Fanny McPherson Ross, who passed onward and upward before her, is still revered in Frederick.

Mr. Gouverneur and I also formed a pleasant acquaintance with Rev. Dr. John McElroy, whose remarkable career in the Catholic Church is well worthy of notice. Coming to this country as a mere lad, he engaged in mercantile pursuits in Georgetown, D.C., and when about sixteen years of age became a lay Jesuit and in 1817 entered the priesthood. After ministering to Trinity church in Georgetown for several years, he was transferred, at the request of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney, to Frederick, where he built St. John's church, a college, an academy, an orphan asylum, and the first free school in the city. After remaining there for twenty-three years and establishing a reputation for devotion to his church and rare executive ability that made him one of the most useful Jesuits in the country, he was sent back to his old church in Georgetown and the following year went to the Mexican War as Chaplain in the regiment commanded by Caleb Cushing. During our occasional conversations it seemed to afford him more than usual pleasure to discuss with me the ability of his distinguished military chief. After the war he was sent to Boston, where he became pastor of St. Mary's church, and built the Boston College and the Church of the Immaculate Conception. At the age of ninety, he became blind and retired to the scene of his early labors in Frederick, where, as the oldest Jesuit in the world, he died in the fall of 1877. I remember meeting him one day on the street when he proudly announced that it was his birthday and that he was sixty-nine years of age. I knew him to be much older, and my words of astonishment evidently revived his senses for, realizing that he had reversed his figures, he corrected himself by adding, "I mean ninety-six." At that time he was quite active, considering his extreme age, and to the close of his life was much respected and beloved by the residents of Frederick, irrespective of creed. I attended his funeral and he was laid to rest in the burying ground of the old Novitiate which he founded. It was then that I saw for the first time the grave of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney. The two-story brick house in Frederick in which he lived is still standing, but it would be regarded with contempt by any of the present Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States. But how natural, for how changed are the times! In an eloquent address subsequent to Taney's death, Charles O'Conor concluded with these words: "May the future historian in writing of Judge Roger B. Taney sorrowfully add, Ultimus Romanorum."

Francis Scott Key, the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner," is also buried in Frederick soil. For many years his remains reposed in an unnoticed grave in Mount Olivet Cemetery but, through the efforts of the citizens of Frederick, and especially of its women, an imposing monument now towers above him surmounted by a superb male figure with outstretched arms. While living in Maryland I frequently met Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase at the residence of Mrs. Margaret Goldsborough, and was much impressed by his imposing presence and courtly bearing. Many years before, he had been a tutor in the Frederick College, which still survives and whose walls bear the inscription "1797." Mrs. Goldsborough was a lifelong resident of Frederick and a woman of a high degree of intelligence. Her daughter, Miss Mary Catharine Goldsborough, I always numbered among my most cherished friends.

After a pleasant sojourn of a number of months in Frederick, we went to spend the summer at Po-ne-sang, where we had the satisfaction of entertaining quite a number of old friends, among whom was the Hon. Lafayette S. Foster, then Vice-President pro tempore of the United States. Maryland was a familiar as well as a cherished State to him, as in early life he had been a tutor in Centerville on the "Eastern Shore." Mr. Foster's visit was decidedly uneventful to him, as he was there entirely unheralded and without even a newspaper notice to announce his coming and going.



CHAPTER XIV

VISIT TO THE FAR SOUTH AND RETURN TO WASHINGTON

In the autumn of the same year I decided to make a long anticipated visit to Mrs. John Still Winthrop in Tallahassee, whose marriage in Gramercy Park I had attended so many years ago and which I have already described. My two younger children accompanied me, but my oldest daughter I left behind under her father's protecting care at the Misses Vernon's boarding school in Frederick. This period seemed especially suitable for such a long absence, as the whole time and attention of Mr. Gouverneur was engrossed in editing for publication a posthumous work of James Monroe, which was subsequently published by the Lippincotts under the title, "The People the Sovereigns." We sailed from New York and stopped en route in Savannah to enable me to see my old friend and schoolmate, Mrs. William Neyle Habersham. Sherman in his "March to the Sea" had passed through Georgia, carrying with him destruction and devastation, and the suffering which this and other campaigns of the war had brought into the homes of these Southern people it would be difficult to describe. The whole South seemed to be shrouded in mourning, as nearly everyone I met had given up to the "Lost Cause" a husband or a son, and in some cases both. Two gallant sons of the Habershams, mere boys, had died upon the same battlefield, and when I saw Mr. Habersham for the first time after the war he was so overcome with grief that he was obliged to leave the room. Talented to an unusual degree and possessing much fortitude, his wife fought bravely for the sake of her dear ones still spared her, but every now and then her sorrow asserted itself anew and seemed more than her bleeding soul could bear. She was especially gifted with her pen, and about ten years after the war, while her heart was still wrung with grief, she wrote the following pathetic lines:—

Up above, the Pines make sweet music; sad, plaintive, for must there not be a tone of "infinite sadness" in all the places of Earth's finite gladness? From a spray of jessamine I hear the chirp of a little bird—a young beginner; it tries over and over again "its one plain passage of few notes"—the prelude to the full-voice anthem which summer will harmonize. Ah! what shades and sunlight! what coloring! Green in the grass and trees, blue in the violets and sky, gray in the moss, yellow in the jessamines, falling around in a perfect Danaean shower of burnished gold! My truant fancy sees all this—and more! A dear hand that held mine, a "pure hand," a boy's hand, that ere many summers had spread out their gorgeous pageantry had drawn the sword for that dear summer-land of the jessamine and pine—had drawn the sword and dropped it; dropped it from the earnest, vigorous clasp of glorious young manhood to lie still and calm, life's duty nobly done; ah, a short young life but ... and then the other young soldier! for is not my sorrow a twin sorrow? Can they be dissevered? In death they were not divided. My eyes grow dim. Wipe away the mist, poor mother! to see the dear faces of sons and daughters gracing the board. Let the blue of the violets breathe to thee rather of endless skies and an eternal Heaven, where earth's finite sadness is beautified into infinite gladness.

We finally reached Tallahassee, where we found the most cordial welcome awaiting us. Mrs. Winthrop lived in the very heart of the city but our surroundings were much more beautiful than I can describe, for the orange trees and hyacinths and jessamine in full bloom and other wealth of semi-tropical vegetation were suggestive of an earthly Paradise. Since we last met my hostess had become a widow, but fortunately she and her only son, who was then just emerging into manhood, had not felt the personal vicissitudes of the struggle, as they had taken refuge in the mountains of North Carolina. Before the war the Winthrops had owned hundreds of slaves and most of them, in a state of freedom, were still living in quarters only a short distance from the house and were working on her plantations just as though the war had not made them free. But both among those who suffered from the war and those who escaped its ravages the unfriendly feeling entertained at this time against their Northern brethren was naturally intense. I remember that one Sunday morning a young son of Mrs. Custis, who with his mother was then an inmate of the Winthrop household, asked his mother, who had just returned from the early service of the Episcopal Church, whether "the 'Yankees' went up to the same communion table with the Southern people."

During my Tallahassee life I made the acquaintance of Madame Achille Murat, who lived in an old mansion outside of the city limits. She was Miss Catharine A. Willis of Virginia, and a great-grandniece of General Washington. Upon her marriage to Achille Murat he took her abroad, where she was received with much distinction on account of her Washington blood. Then, too, her marriage into such an illustrious French family was an open sesame to the most exclusive circles of society. She was an elderly woman when I met her, but her conversation abounded with the most interesting reminiscences of her life in France. She died in the summer of 1867. Achille Murat was the son of Joachim Murat, the great Marshal of Napoleon, whose sister Caroline he married and became King of Naples. Many years later his two sons came to this country. One of them settled in Bordentown in New Jersey, and Achille Murat, after his marriage to his Virginia bride, became a resident of Florida. Madame Murat told me of some of the visits she made to France when the voyage was long and tedious. She had many articles of vertu around her, and I especially recall a superb marble bust by Canova of her mother-in-law, Queen Caroline. I expressed surprise at the extreme attractiveness of the late Queen, as I had always understood that the Princess Pauline, Napoleon's other sister, was the family beauty. Madame Murat, however, told me I was mistaken and that her royal mother-in-law was, in that respect, quite the equal of her sister.

During my acquaintance with Madame Murat, Napoleon III. was on the throne of France, and I learned from our many friendly chats that her relations with her distinguished kinspeople were of the most cordial character; and I am informed that for many years the Emperor gave her an annuity. Hanging in her drawing-room, whose contents were replete with historic association, were two handsome portraits of the Emperor and Empress of France, which she called to my attention as recent gifts from her royal relatives. That prince of hosts, Gouverneur Kemble, once told me an amusing incident apropos of Achille Murat's resourcefulness under peculiar difficulties. On one occasion quite a number of foreign guests appeared at the Frenchman's door and, although Florida is a land "flowing with milk and honey," he was sorely perplexed to know what would be "toothsome and succulent" to serve for their repast. Suddenly an idea flashed upon him. He owned a large flock of sheep and, nothing daunted, gave immediate orders to have the tips of their ears cut off. These were served in due form, and his guests departed in total ignorance of what they had eaten but fully convinced that America produced the choicest of viands.

Upon one of her numerous visits to France, Madame Murat was accompanied to the Louvre by Mr. Francis Porteus Corbin, a Virginian whose contemporaries proudly asserted was an adornment to any court. While they were engaged in viewing the works of art, Madame Murat was joined by Jerome Bonaparte, to whom she formally presented Mr. Corbin. When the opportunity arose Bonaparte inquired of his kinswoman who "the elegant gentleman" was. The ready response was: "Mr. Corbin, of Virginia." "Well," was the ejaculation, "I had no idea there was so much elegance in America."

I think these pages will show that all through life I have had a decided fancy for older men and women. I can hardly account for this taste except by the fact that my predilections have always been of a decidedly historical character. As another instance, I especially enjoyed my meeting in the far South with Judge Thomas Randall, who made his home in Tallahassee, but who was originally from Annapolis. He did not allow advanced years to interfere with his social tastes, but frequently accompanied us to parties, where his vivacity rendered him one of the most acceptable of guests. Still another elderly gentleman with whom I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted during this Southern sojourn was Francis Wayles Eppes. He was the son of U.S. Senator John Wayles Eppes, whose wife was Maria Jefferson, elder daughter of Thomas Jefferson. He left Virginia many years prior to my acquaintance with him and settled with several members of the Randolph family in Western Florida when it was almost a wilderness.

I left with keen regret this picturesque land of flowers and stately oaks, but duty called me home, as my husband and little daughter were growing impatient over our long absence. It would seem that the observance of timetables differed in those days according to localities and other circumstances. I was informed that the train I should take from Tallahassee would leave about such and such a time; but upon my inquiring in Savannah as to whether the ship upon which I proposed to embark for Baltimore would leave on time, I was explicitly told by its captain that if I were a minute late I should not be one of its passengers.

After my return to Maryland, the home of our adoption, we abandoned the idea of country life, sold our residence and took up our abode in Frederick. My children were now reaching an age when education became an important matter and I took advantage of the Frederick Female Seminary, an institution that has since become a college, as an excellent place to which to send my eldest daughter. It was during this period of transition that it was my good fortune to meet for the first time the wife of the Hon. Henry Gassaway Davis of West Virginia, who was a native of Frederick and a daughter of Gideon Bantz. Her two older daughters, Hallie, the widow of U.S. Senator Stephen B. Elkins, and Kate, who subsequently became the wife of Robert M. G. Brown of the U.S. Navy, were boarding pupils at the same school; and Mrs. Davis frequently visited them while there. My daughters formed an intimate friendship with Mrs. Brown, whom at a later day we often welcomed as a guest in our Washington home. She has since passed "over the river," having survived her mother for only a few months, and her memory is hallowed in my family circle. Mrs. Elkins, the promising young girl of so many years ago, is widely known in Washington and elsewhere for her womanly tact, intelligence and fine presence. Grace, another of Mrs. Davis' daughters, is now Mrs. Arthur Lee of Washington, but was born after my earlier acquaintance with her mother in Frederick. Loved and admired, she resides in Washington surrounded by an exclusive coterie, and devotes much of her time and means to works of philanthropy.

The prominent authoress, Mrs. Elizabeth F. Ellet, was repeatedly our guest while we were living in Frederick. A volume of her poems had appeared as early as 1835, and she subsequently published quite a number of books which were highly regarded. When she first came to visit us, her "Women of the American Revolution" had just appeared and her journey to Maryland was for the purpose of collecting data for a new work which later was published under the title of "The Court Circles of the Republic." Besides being a gifted writer, Mrs. Ellet had considerable histrionic ability, and I have now before me an old newspaper clipping containing an account of an entertainment given by me in her honor when she recited from "Pickwick Papers", "Widow Bedott" and "The Lost Heir." Another party at which music and recitations were a prominent feature was given to Mrs. Ellet in Frederick by Mrs. Charles E. Trail, a gifted woman who thoroughly appreciated intellectual accomplishments wherever found.

My first acquaintance with the Hon. Joseph Holt, who at the time was Judge Advocate General of the Army, began in Frederick in 1869. He was a Kentuckian by birth and, after serving for a time as Postmaster General under President Buchanan, succeeded, in 1860, John B. Floyd of Virginia as Secretary of War. He made frequent visits to Frederick where he was always the guest of the Rev. Dr. and Mrs. George Diehl. He was a typical Kentuckian, over six feet tall, and in my opinion no one could have known him well without being impressed by his intellectual ability. After we returned to Washington to live, in 1873, Judge Holt was a constant visitor at our home and I frequently attended handsome entertainments given in his residence on Capitol Hill. Although I have been in society more or less all of my life, I can say without hesitancy that he more perfectly understood and practiced the art of entertaining—it certainly is an art, and possessed by but few—than any other person I have ever known. His second wife, who was Miss Margaret Anderson Wickliffe of Kentucky, had died in 1860 and, as he had no children, he was living entirely alone.

From my earliest acquaintance with Judge Holt I was deeply impressed by the cloud of sadness that seemed to envelop him, and I never learned until I had known him many years and really called him my friend that he was laboring under a deep sense of wrong and injustice. Without entering into exhaustive details, the main facts are substantially these: In 1865 Mr. Holt was Judge Advocate General of the Army and as such was the prosecuting officer before the Military Commission convened by order of President Johnson for the trial of Mrs. Mary E. Surratt and others for complicity in the assassination of Lincoln. The findings and sentence of the Commission were accompanied by a recommendation signed by a majority of its members in which they "respectfully pray the President, in consideration of the sex and age of the said Mary E. Surratt, if he can, upon all the facts in the case, find it consistent with his sense of duty to the country, to commute the sentence of death, which the Court have been constrained to pronounce, to imprisonment in the penitentiary for life." This recommendation for executive clemency remained unknown to the public until it was incidentally referred to by the Hon. Edwards Pierrepont, counsel for the government in the trial of Mrs. Surratt's son in 1867. This was followed in subsequent years, and after Andrew Johnson had ceased to be President, by a controversy in which reflections were made upon the personal and official integrity of Judge Holt by the charge that he had never presented the recommendation for clemency to the President. The matter finally sifted itself down to a question of personal veracity between the ex-President and Judge Holt, in which the latter affirmed that "he drew the President's attention specially to the recommendation in favor of Mrs. Surratt, which he read and freely commented on"; and was contradicted by the ex-President in the assertion that "in acting upon her case no recommendation for a commutation of her punishment was mentioned or submitted to me."

The enemies of Holt accordingly held him indirectly responsible for Mrs. Surratt's execution, and against such a charge he naturally rebelled until the day of his death. The most cruel feature of the whole affair, however, and the one which probably did more than anything else to sadden and becloud the remaining days of Judge Holt's life, was the personal disloyalty of an eminent citizen of his own State, who had been his intimate friend from youth. I refer to James Speed, Andrew Johnson's Attorney General. In 1883, after most of the prominent actors in the scene were dead and the animosities caused by the controversy were largely allayed—at a time, too, when Holt realized that he was growing old and recognized more keenly than ever the importance of leaving behind a final refutation of the calumnies that had been heaped upon him—he appealed to Speed, who, he believed he had reason to assume was in possession of the exact facts of the case; but all that could be wrung from him were evasive words to the effect that he saw the petition for clemency in the President's office, without intimating whether it was before or after Mrs. Surratt's execution, and that he did not "feel at liberty to speak of what was said at cabinet meetings." An exchange of letters followed between the two in which Speed excused himself for six months on the pleas of bereavement and press of business, and that he had lost his glasses, when he finally replied:—"After very mature and deliberate consideration, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot say more than I have said." It is no wonder, then, that Holt, driven to desperation by such treatment, wrote to Speed:—"Your forbearance towards Andrew Johnson, of whose dishonorable conduct you have been so well advised, is a great mystery to me. With the stench of his baseness in your nostrils you have been all tenderness for him, while for me ... you have been as implacable as fate."

While spending the summer of 1888 in Princeton, Massachusetts, I read in the North American Review for July of the same year the correspondence relating to the Surratt question between Holt and Speed in 1883. Knowing Judge Holt as I did, having firm faith in his version of the controversy, believing him to be a victim of gross injustice and realizing withal how keenly through all these years he had felt the sting of misrepresentation, I wrote him a lengthy letter. It was not long before I received his reply, and I copy it here, as I believe it casts an additional sidelight upon a subject which caused this brilliant and high-minded gentleman bitter suffering from which he never wholly recovered. I add several more letters written to me by him which are beautiful in expression but pathetic in character.

WASHINGTON, August 26th, 1888.

Mrs. M. Gouverneur,

My dear Madam:

Your kind letter of the 14th instant was quite a surprise, but a very agreeable one I assure you. My reply has been thus long delayed from an impression that it would probably more certainly reach your hands if addressed to you at Frederick.

I have read and re-read your letter with increasing gratification and thankfulness. Truly am I grateful for the friendly spirit that prompted you to make so thorough an examination of the Speed correspondence as your resume of it discloses. That resume is in every way admirable. It has the clearness and logical force of a first-class lawyer's brief. Indeed, I was on the point of asserting that you have a good lawyer's head on your shoulders, but prefer saying that you have a head which obeying the inspirations of your heart enables you to discern and appreciate the truth and extricate it, as well, from the entanglements of chicanery and fraud. Be assured, my dear Madam, that I shall treasure up your letter fondly, at once as a consolation and as a powerful support of the endeavors which I have been making for years to rescue my name from the obloquy of an accusation, than which nothing falser or fouler ever fell from the lips of men or devils.

It was a severe shock for my faith in human nature when General Speed—with whom I had maintained relations of cordial friendship for some fifty years—suddenly allowed himself to become a compliant coadjutor of Andrew Johnson in his diabolical plot to destroy me. The role of suppressing the truth, which he voluntarily assumed for himself and in which—without explanation or defense—he persisted down to his grave, amounted fully to this and to nothing less. Yet during all of that time he knew me to be innocent, as well as I myself knew and know it, and this he never denied. Alas, Alas! what a masquerade is human life, and amid its heady currents how rarely do we pause to think of the possibilities that lurk under the disguise of its spotless reputations!

I should be rejoiced to hear that the Summer has strewed flowers and only flowers on the paths of your "outing," and that you will be able to return to Washington glad of heart and reinvigorated for the social duties in which you find and bestow so much pleasure. For my own isolated and infirm life home was thought to be the best place, and hence I have remained here happily finding under my own roof a contentment that has left me without envy of those whose more fortunate feet have sought the seashore and the mountain slopes. You yourself, however, acted wisely and well in going away, since the world is still pressing to your lips the sparkling cups, which for my own are now but a dim, receding memory.

I congratulate you on Miss Rose's approaching marriage which you have been so good as to announce, and sincerely hope that all the bright visions which the coming event must be awakening will have an abounding fulfilment. The invitation with which you have honored me is accepted with thanks, and I shall attend the ceremony with the higher gratification, realizing as I shall how closely your own happiness is bound up with that of your daughter.[3]

Faithfully and gratefully your friend,

J. HOLT.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON, Nov. 3d, 1888.

My dear Mrs. Gouverneur:

I am in receipt of your very welcome letter of the 1st instant and hasten to send the "Index" as requested. Hope it may be of service in illustrating and supporting your application. I shall preserve the Admiral's [Rear Admiral Francis A. Roe, U.S.N.] emphatic words as a cherished testimonial. The language of Mrs. Stanard is also very grateful to me. Her favorable opinion is the more prized and precious because she has known me so long and so well.

And now, my dear good friend, how can I sufficiently thank you for your generous interest in this trouble of mine—which has been a thorn in my life for so many years—and for your surpassingly kind offices which have been so effectively exercised in connection with it? Be assured that while my poor words cannot adequately express it, my heart will always throb with gratitude for the tokens of good will with which you have so honored and gladdened me.

I feel much complimented by so early a receipt of the invitation to Miss Rose's wedding, and I shall have great joy in being present.

* * * * *

Faithfully yours,

J. HOLT.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON, D.C., January 21st, 1891.

Dear Mrs. Gouverneur:

I regret to be obliged to acknowledge the receipt of your welcome letter by the hand of another, owing to the condition of my eyes. For many weeks their inflammation has prevented me from reading or writing, and I fear that this condition will continue for a good while to come. So soon as I am able to do so I will either write or have the pleasure of calling on you. In the meanwhile believe me most grateful for your letter which, however, has been but imperfectly read. The darkened chambers of my life never had more need than at present of the sunshine which your sympathizing letters have always brought me.

Very sincerely yours,

J. HOLT.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON, D.C., Jan. 26th, 1893.

Dear Mrs. Gouverneur:

Your last two letters have been received and I thank you heartily for them. As tokens of your continued friendly remembrance they are precious to me. I am much obliged for the privilege of reading the letter of Mrs. Vance [Mrs. Zebulon B. Vance], which is herewith returned. It is another of the many indications I have had of the subtle and wide spread circulation given to the Johnson-Speed calumny to which you refer. It seems to me that the poison is beyond the reach of any human antidote, and that I must look to God alone for shelter from it. Your generous and effective good offices in this matter, so deeply affecting my reputation and happiness, have filled my heart with an enduring gratitude.

Your unflagging solicitudes, too, for my poor waning life have much added to that debt of gratitude, great as it was and is. Let the good Lord be praised for ever and ever that spirits such as yours have been born into the world.

I am obliged to address you in this brief and unsatisfactory manner by the hand of another. After two years and a half of continued treatment I have as yet received no relief whatever, nor do the eminent physicians who have treated me afford me any encouragement for the future. While the world feasts, it is evident that my lot is and must be ashes for bread.

Hoping that you are drinking yourself freely from the fountain of happiness you open for others, I remain

Very sincerely your friend,

J. HOLT.

* * * * *

WASHINGTON, D.C., April 12, 1893.

My dear good friend:

I regret much to be obliged to communicate with you by the hand of another, but my poor life seems to be fixed by fate on the down grade, and at present there is no encouragement to believe that the future has anything better in store for me.

I send you a number of the North American Review containing the correspondence to which you refer between General Speed and myself. In it there is also a detached printed letter of Colonel Brown which is important. And I must ask that both this letter and the number of the Review be carefully preserved and after their perusal by your friend be returned to me, as I have no other copies and wish to preserve these. I am sorry that the sad circumstances of my condition prevent me from thanking you in person for your continued interest in my reputation which has been so basely assailed, but I trust as triumphantly vindicated.

I thank you sincerely for what you have said of Mrs. Kearny. It would be a great gratification to me to have an interview with her on the long, long ago, but this is a pleasure which I now have no encouragement to promise myself.

Believe me most grateful for the repeated calls and inquiries as to my health which you have been so good as to make. Such calls are precious fountains of consolation that will not go dry.

Very sincerely your friend,

J. HOLT.

It has been asserted upon high authority that after the conviction and sentence of Mrs. Surratt her daughter Anna, as well as Catholic priests and prominent men in Washington, attempted to see the President in order to intercede for executive clemency in her behalf, but were denied admission by Preston King, Collector of the Port of New York and then a guest at the White House, and by U.S. Senator James Lane of Kansas. It has also been said that Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas succeeded in reaching the President by pushing herself past the guards, but her attempts in behalf of the condemned woman were fruitless.

I knew Preston King very well and his political career interested me deeply. He was from St. Lawrence County, New York, and in my girlhood I often heard it asserted that the mantle of Silas Wright had fallen upon him. I saw much of him in 1849 when I was visiting the Scotts in Washington, and was particularly impressed by his exceptionally sensitive nature. General Scott once told me that at one period of his military career he was ordered to quell a disturbance between Canadians and Americans near Ogdensburg, the home of Mr. King, and that the latter was so seriously affected by the scenes he witnessed at that time that it was long before he recovered his normal condition of mind. During President Johnson's administration Mr. King, while Collector of the Port of New York, boarded a Jersey City ferry boat one morning, attached weights to his person and jumped into the river. When the news of his death reached me I was not surprised as I had seen evidences of his nervous temperament which might well result in acts indicative of an unbalanced mind. He was a man of big heart and exceptional ability, and in his death the State of New York lost one of her most gifted and distinguished sons.

The Frederick County agricultural fairs, as far back as my memory of that quaint Maryland town goes, have always been a feature of special interest not only to the farmers of that productive region but also from a social point of view. In bygone days some of the most distinguished men of the nation made addresses at these "cattle shows," as they were called by the country folk. I recall the visit of President Grant on one of these occasions when he was the guest of Mrs. Margaret Goldsborough. He was accompanied by General Sherman and made a brief address. The evening of the day these distinguished guests arrived Mrs. Goldsborough gave a dinner in their honor, which Mr. Gouverneur and I attended. The entertainment was served in the style then prevalent among old Maryland families in that vicinity, the pieces de resistance being chicken, fried to perfection, at one end of the table together with an old ham on the opposite end. To these were added "side trimmings," enough to almost bury the table under their weight. President Grant was then filling his first term as Chief Executive of the nation and, although Mr. Gouverneur had known him in Mexico, it was my first glimpse of the distinguished man. As a whole we were a merry party, but Grant was a reticent guest. General Sherman, however, as usual made up for all deficiencies in this line, and as he sat next to me I found him to be a highly agreeable conversationalist. This dinner party proved a great social success and at its conclusion a number of prominent citizens called to pay their respects to the guests of honor.

The next year Horace Greeley was the orator of the day at the Frederick fair, and it fell to our lot to entertain him. He wrote the following letter to my husband:—

NEW YORK TRIBUNE, New York, Oct. 1, 1871.

Dear Sir:

I expect to be duly on hand to fulfil my engagement to speak at your County Fair and to stop with you, if that shall be agreeable to those who have invited me. Will you please see Mr. C. H. Keefer who invites me and say to him that I am subject to his order and, with his consent, I shall gladly accept your invitation.

Yours,

HORACE GREELEY.

S. L. Gouverneur, Esq., Frederick, Maryland.

As Mr. Greeley about this time was appearing upon the political horizon as a prospective presidential candidate, much interest was naturally centered in his visit. His appearance was decidedly interesting. He was of the blond type, past middle life and in dress anything but a la mode. I am no student of physiognomy, but if the question had been asked I should have said that his most prominent trait of character was benevolence. He wore during this memorable visit the characteristic white hat, miniature imitations of which during his presidential candidacy became a campaign badge. I am the fortunate possessor of two of these souvenirs. They are made of white metal and are attached to brown ribbons, the color of the latter standing for B. Gratz Brown, the candidate for Vice-President upon the Greeley ticket.

This visit was the pleasing forerunner of a sincere friendship between my husband and Horace Greeley. In our intimate association of a few days we recognized as never before his conscientious purpose and intellectual power, and Mr. Gouverneur was so deeply impressed by his remarkable ability and sterling character that later in the same year he started a newspaper in Frederick, which he called The Maryland Herald, with a view of advocating his nomination for the Presidency. My husband had never before been especially interested in politics, but he now entered the political arena with all the enthusiasm of his intense nature, and, at a mass meeting in Frederick, was chosen a delegate to the National Liberal Republican Convention in Cincinnati, which resulted in the nomination of Greeley and Brown. Although this party was largely composed of Republicans who had become dissatisfied with the Grant administration, it will be remembered that its candidates were subsequently endorsed by the Democratic party at its convention in Baltimore, and that the fusion of such hitherto discordant political elements added exceptional interest to the subsequent campaign. The venerable Thomas Jefferson Randolph, grandson of the author of the Declaration of Independence, although he had reached the advanced age of eighty years, was chosen as the temporary chairman of the Baltimore Convention. The proceedings of the Cincinnati delegates were replete with interest and the enthusiasm was intense. During the uproarious demonstration in the convention hall, immediately following Greeley's nomination, Mr. Gouverneur's friend, John Cochrane of New York, of whom I have spoken elsewhere, in the excitement of the moment gave expression to his delight in an Indian war dance, and other usual scenes of boyish hilarity prevailed.

My husband's paper had been the first of the Maryland press, and long before the Convention, to place the name of Greeley at the head of its columns, but others followed, and for a time the movement, both in that State and elsewhere, appeared to gain strength and to assume formidable proportions. Subsequent events, however, proved that it would have been better if the newborn babe had been strangled at its birth, as it was destined to enjoy but a brief and precarious existence. Although the movement commanded the support of the united Democracy and enlisted the active sympathies of able men from the Republican ranks—such as Carl Schurz, Whitelaw Reid, Charles A. Dana, Charles Francis Adams, Lyman Trumbull, David Davis, Andrew G. Curtin and many more—the voice of the people pronounced for Grant, and in the latter part of the same month that witnessed his defeat, poor Greeley died of a broken heart!

Greeley's defeat was a severe blow to Mr. Gouverneur. As the member from Maryland of the national committee of the Liberal Republican Party, he had engaged in the contest with his characteristic ardor, and his strenuous but unsuccessful efforts had made inroads upon his health that he could but ill afford. Under the circumstances, a change of scene and employment seemed highly expedient, and we accordingly decided to break up our attractive home in Frederick and return to Washington, where so much of Mr. Gouverneur's life had been spent and where I, too, had so many pleasant associations. It was in the summer of 1873 that this plan was consummated, and we began our second Washington life in a house which we bought on Corcoran Street, near Fourteenth Street. It was one of a row of dwellings built as an investment by the late George W. Riggs, the distinguished banker, and was in a portion of the city which still abounded in vacant lots. Houses in our vicinity were so widely scattered that we had an almost uninterrupted view of that part of the District boundary which is now Florida Avenue. As these were the days of horse cars, it was my habit to stand in my vestibule and wait for a car, as I could see it approaching a long distance off, although we lived half a block from the route, which was on Fourteenth Street. The entire northwestern section of the city, which is now a semi-palatial region, was also, at that time, largely a sea of vacant lots. The only house on Dupont Circle was "Stewart Castle," and the fashionable part of the city was still that portion below Pennsylvania Avenue, bounded on the east by Seventeenth Street, although the general trend in the erection of fine residences was towards the northwest. Many of the streets were not paved, but the regime of Alexander R. Shepherd, familiarly called "Boss Shepherd," changed all of this, and the work of grading commenced. It was a trying ordeal for property owners, as it left many houses high in the air and others below the customary grade, while many from the ranks of the poorer classes, unable to meet the necessary assessments, were forced to part with their homes. In the course of several years, however, the situation righted itself. Cellars were dug and English basements became prevalent, and it is only occasionally that one now sees a house far above the level of the street. We sometimes hear the praises of Mr. Shepherd sung, and without a doubt he made Washington the beautiful city it is to-day, but he accomplished it only at a tremendous cost—the sacrifice of many homes. Next followed the paving of the streets with wooden blocks; and I was much surprised when they were being laid on Fourteenth Street, as I recalled the time during my earlier days in New York when they were used in paving Broadway, and I also well remember how speedily they degenerated and decayed. I was told, however, that this form of block was an improvement upon the old style, and was induced to believe it until I saw Fourteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue masses of holes and ruts!

After we were fairly settled in our new home I made the pleasing discovery that my next door neighbors were our old acquaintances, Mr. and Mrs. Edmund Pendleton Gaines. Mrs. Gaines was Frances Hogan, a former neighbor of ours in Houston Street in New York. William Hogan, her aged father, was living with her, and their close proximity recalled many early memories. He was a gentleman of broad culture and a proficient linguist, and at an early age had accompanied his father to the Cape of Good Hope. He formed an intimacy with Lord Byron at Harrow, where he received the early portion of his education. Byron was not then a student but was occupying a small room at Harrow, which he called his "den." Another of Mr. Hogan's daughters, who is still living, wrote me that at this time Lord Byron was a young man and her father a little boy. She says: "Lord Byron often admitted my father to his room, when he would make him repeat stories of his African life and describe the occasional appearance of an orang-outang walking through the streets of Cape Town." After his father's return to New York, Mr. Hogan attended Columbia College, from which he was graduated in 1811, and afterwards studied law. He subsequently purchased land in the Black River country and did much to develop that portion of his native State. The town of Hogansburg in Franklin County was named after him. He became a county judge and member of Congress and later resided in Washington, where he was employed in the Department of State, first as an examiner of claims and then as an official interpreter.

A short distance from our home and on the same street lived Dr. and Mrs. Alexander Sharp with their large and interesting family of children, one of whom, bearing the same name as his father, recently died in Washington while a Captain in the Navy. Dr. Sharp's wife was a younger sister of Mrs. U. S. Grant, and her husband was ably filling at the time the position of U.S. Marshal of the District of Columbia. A few doors from Mrs. Sharp's lived her sister-in-law, the widow of Louis Dent; and in the same block, but nearer Thirteenth Street, were the residences of two agreeable Army families, Colonel and Mrs. Almon F. Rockwell and Colonel and Mrs. Asa Bacon Carey, the latter of whom was the niece of the late Senator Redfield Proctor of Vermont. I formed a pleasant friendship almost immediately with Mrs. Sharp and was always received with much cordiality in her home. Corcoran Street, in fact, from a social point of view, proved to be an ideal locality until its tranquillity was disturbed by the advent of Mr. —— and family, the former of whom was the Washington representative of a prominent New York daily paper whose columns had been strongly denunciatory of Grant and antagonistic to his election, while they abounded in praises of Greeley. Both Mr. and Mrs. ——were persons of much culture, but they were unfortunate in their selection of a home, as the personal and political sentiment of the neighborhood was friendly to Grant, while his family connections, the Dents and Sharps, residing in that part of the city, were deservedly popular. My own position was one of much delicacy. Although I was especially fond of Mrs. Dent and Mrs. Sharp, I could not, in view of Mr. Gouverneur's active interest in the Greeley campaign, be quite so enthusiastic over the Grant administration as were most of my neighbors, and, therefore, when I was invited by a mutual friend to call upon Mrs. ——I had no hesitation in doing so. I was taken to task for my act, however, by some of my friends, but I survived the rebuke and am still alive to tell the tale. I was told that, several months after the family just referred to was established in its Corcoran Street home, Mrs. ——was returning unaccompanied to her residence one evening, when a colored man, carrying a bucket of mud in one hand and a brush in the other, ran after her and besmeared her clothing; but the Dents and Grants were not of the class of people to approve of such a ruffianly act, nor were any of the other decent residents in the community. If Mrs. Sharp ever had any feeling in connection with my calling upon Mrs. ——, I never knew of it. Our relations were of the most cordial character from the first, and when her niece, Nellie Grant, was married to Algernon Sartoris she brought me a box of wedding cake, coupling with it the remark that she knew of no one more entitled to it than I—referring, I presume, to the associations connecting the Gouverneur family with the White House. After the close of the Grant administration, Dr. Sharp was appointed a paymaster in the Army and for many years resided with his family in Yankton, Dakota. I remained in touch with Mrs. Sharp, however, and for a long period we kept up an active correspondence.

At this period Vice-Presidents were not so much en evidence as later, and Vice-President and Mrs. Schuyler Colfax lived quietly in Washington and mingled but little in the social world. During his life at the Capital, Mr. Colfax repeatedly delivered his eloquent oration on Lincoln, which concluded with the lines of N. P. Willis on the death of President William Henry Harrison:—

Let us weep in our darkness, but weep not for him— Not for him who, departing, leaves millions in tears, Not for him who has died full of honor and years, Not for him who ascended Fame's ladder so high, From the round at the top he has stepped to the sky.

Directly back of us on Q Street lived an old and intimate friend of mine, Mrs. Septimia Randolph Meikleham, the last surviving grandchild of Thomas Jefferson. She was the widow of Dr. David Scott Meikleham of Glasgow, who was a relative of Sir Walter Scott and died in early life in New York. Mrs. Meikleham was the seventh daughter (hence her name "Septimia," suggested by her grandfather) of Governor Thomas Mann Randolph of Virginia and his wife Martha, the younger daughter of Thomas Jefferson. She was born at Monticello and was familiarly known to her intimate friends as "Tim," a name in surprising contrast with her elegance and dignity. She bore a striking resemblance to her grandfather, and, although a woman of commanding presence, was simple and unaffected in manner. Strong in her convictions, attractive in conversation and loyal in her friendships, she and her home were sources of great delight to me, and it was pleasing to both of us that her children and mine should have been brought into intimate contact. Mrs. Meikleham and I often dwelt upon this family intimacy extending unbroken from Jefferson and Monroe down to the fourth generation. In the same block with Mrs. Meikleham lived Mr. and Mrs. John W. Douglas, the former of whom, some years later, during the Harrison administration, was one of the District Commissioners. A daughter of his is the wife of Henry B. F. Macfarland, the late Senior Commissioner of the District, who, as well as his wife, is universally respected and beloved in Washington. On the same street, but on the other side of Fourteenth Street, Colonel and Mrs. Robert N. Scott resided for many years; while just around the corner, on Iowa Circle, in what was then a palatial home, lived Allan McLane and his only child, Anne, who married from this house John Cropper of New York. She is now a widow but lives in Washington, where she is greatly beloved. In this same general region, on the corner of N and Fourteenth Street, lived Lieutenant Commander (now Rear Admiral) and Mrs. Francis J. Higginson, and the latter's attractive sister, Miss Mary Haldane.

Not far from our dwelling on Corcoran Street lived the attractive wife of Monsieur Grimaud de Caux, Chancelier of the French legation, who left unfading memories behind her. During our many delightful chats I was much interested in the accounts of her early life and experiences in Ireland, and I especially recall many things she told me concerning the members of the Wilde family, with whom she had been quite intimately associated. I learned from her that Oscar Wilde inherited his aesthetic tastes largely from his mother. She was a woman of unusual type and habitually dressed in white—at a time, too, before white garments had become so generally prevalent. I was also told that Oscar Wilde's father was an oculist of some prominence, and that he built a mansion so singular in its construction that the wits of Dublin called it "Wilde's eye-sore."

Another of my intimate friends of those days was Mrs. Mary Donelson Wilcox, widow of the Hon. John A. Wilcox, formerly Secretary of the U.S. Senate, a Member of Congress and a veteran of the Mexican War. She was a woman of rare intellectual ability, and subsequent to her husband's death was for a time one of the official translators of the government. She was the daughter of Colonel Andrew Jackson Donelson, a nephew of President Jackson as well as his adopted son and private secretary. General Jackson when President was a widower, and it was while Mrs. Donelson was presiding as mistress of the White House that Mrs. Wilcox was born. Her memory remained clear until her last illness, and her recollections of prominent men and events, extending back to her childhood, and especially those of her early life at the White House, were of exceptional interest. I was especially amused by her account of the prompt manner in which General Jackson sent her mother back to Tennessee because she refused to accord social recognition to the wife of General John H. Eaton, his Secretary of War. As is well known, this was "Peggy O'Neal" who, before her marriage to Eaton, was the widow of Purser John B. Timberlake of our Navy, who committed suicide while serving in the Mediterranean. The relation which she sustained to the disruption of Jackson's cabinet has passed into history and is too well known to bear repetition here. As Colonel Donelson shared the views of his wife, he resigned his position as the President's private secretary and returned with her to Tennessee. He was succeeded by Nicholas P. Trist of the State Department, but a few months later, through the kindly offices of personal friends, they were both restored to Jackson's favor and resumed their former functions in the White House.

Just across the street from our home lived Mr. and Mrs. Bernard P. Mimmack and the latter's mother, Mrs. Mary Bailey Collins, widow of Captain Charles Oliver Collins of the U.S. Army, and a typical representative of the New York gentlewomen of former days. She was one of the Bailey family, which was much identified with the history of New York, and she and her daughter, Mrs. Mimmack, were valuable additions to our community. Of Mr. Mimmack, only recently deceased, I can speak only in terms of the warmest praise. He was a true friend to me and many times during my widowhood placed his ripe judgment and wide experience at my command.

As I first remember Professor and Mrs. Joseph Henry, they were living with their three daughters in a portion of the Smithsonian Institution. He was a man whose public career and private life commanded universal respect, while his scientific discoveries, both at Princeton College and at the National Capital, marked him as one of the most distinguished men of his day. I am not qualified to pronounce upon his scholarly attainments nor upon the estimate in which he is held by the learned world of to-day, but it may be assumed that the eulogistic words of the late Professor Simon Newcomb, himself a scientific giant, represent the truth. "Professor Joseph Henry, first secretary of the Smithsonian Institution," he wrote, "was a man of whom it may be said, without any reflection on men of our generation, that he held a place which has never been filled. I do not mean his official place, but his position as the recognized leader and exponent of scientific interests at the National Capital. A world-wide reputation as a scientific investigator, exalted character and inspiring presence, broad views of men and things, the love and esteem of all, combined to make him the man to whom all who knew him looked for counsel and guidance in matters affecting the interests of science. Whether anyone could since have assumed this position, I will not venture to say; but the fact seems to be that no one has been at the same time able and willing to assume it."

The society circle in Washington in 1873 was small compared with that of to-day. There was much less form and ceremony, fewer social cliques and a greater degree of affability. The "Old Washingtonians" were more en evidence than now and the political element came and went without disturbing in any marked degree the harmony of the social atmosphere. There were, however, many in public life whose families were cordially received into the most exclusive circles of Washington society and enriched it by their presence. Mrs. Hamilton Fish held social sway by the innate force of character and general attractiveness with which nature had so lavishly endowed her. Mrs. James G. Blaine, whose husband was in Congress when I first knew them, shared in his popularity. Mrs. George M. Robeson, wife of Grant's Secretary of the Navy, lived on K Street and kept open house. The Secretary of the Treasury and Mrs. William A. Richardson, who lived in the old Hill house on H Street, were well known and very popular. Francis Kernan, the junior Senator from New York, with his wife and daughter, was seen everywhere. Thomas Kernan, their son, who eventually became a Roman Catholic priest, was a great dancer and a general favorite. Roscoe Conkling, the senior Senator from New York, was socially disposed, but his wife, who was a sister of Horatio Seymour, although well fitted for social life, took but little part in it. She was a pronounced blond, wore her hair in many ringlets and was petite in figure. Senator and Mrs. Henry L. Dawes and their intellectual daughter, Miss Anna, were highly esteemed by Washingtonians. General Ambrose B. Burnside, Senator from Rhode Island and a widower, lived on H Street, where he lavishly entertained his friends. Senator Joseph R. Hawley and wife of Connecticut and the latter's bright sister, Miss Kate Foote, resided in the Capitol Hill neighborhood; while Senator Henry B. Anthony, also of Rhode Island and a widower, was famous for his grasshopper turkeys, with which he liberally supplied his guests at his home on the southwest corner of H and Fourteenth Streets. This was the period when William E. Chandler was beginning his prominent and successful political career. He lived with his first wife and interesting family of boys on Fourteenth Street below G Street.

The social leader in Washington in 1873 was Mrs. Frances Lawrence Ricketts, whose husband, General James B. Ricketts, U.S.A., had served his country during the Civil War and on account of disabilities was awarded a handsome pension. They lived on G Street between Eighteenth and Nineteenth Streets and her Friday afternoons were festive occasions. Mrs. Ricketts was no mean philanthropist in her way and a certain wag once wrote—

Here comes Mrs. Ricketts With a pocketful of tickets.

The doggerel had a basis in fact as she frequently appeared in public with tickets to sell for the benefit of some charitable object; and she sold them, too, as but few had the courage to refuse her. She was an exceedingly fine looking woman with a cordial manner and graceful bearing. Mrs. Julia A. K. Lawrence, her mother, the widow of John Tharp Lawrence, originally of the Island of Jamaica, lived with her, was quite as fond of society as the daughter, and, although advanced in years, seemed to have more friends and admirers than any woman I have ever known.

One day by chance I met her in the drawing-room of a mutual friend, Mrs. Sallie Maynadier, where she shocked us by fainting. One of my daughters wrote her a note of sympathetic inquiry and received in reply the following answer. I regarded it as a somewhat remarkable note as its writer was then approaching her ninetieth birthday.

Pray accept my grateful thanks, my dear Miss Gouverneur, for your kind attention in writing me such a lovely note. I wish I had known you brought it. I would have been so much pleased to see you in my room, which I could not leave yesterday though very much better. I think the fainting was from the heat of Mrs. Maynadier's parlour and the agitation of the previous day, at the prospect of parting with my very dear friends in the delicate state of dear Kate Eveleth's health! I hope to hear to-day how she bore the journey, the beautiful day very much in her favor! I can not close this note without expressing my sincere wish that your mamma and yourself will be so kind as to come and see me during the winter. I know that Mrs. Gouverneur does not "pay visits" but as I can no longer have the pleasure of meeting you at our dear friend's I hope she will make an exception in favor of such an old woman as myself, one too who has known and loved so many of your father's family for generations, dating back to President Monroe's family, when I was a child in England and used to play often with your grandmamma [Maria Hester Monroe]. Can you believe that a vivid memory can turn back so many years? Ask your mamma to favour me and come yourself to see

Yours very truly,

JULIA LAWRENCE.

1829 G Street, Tuesday morning.

An old family friend of Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter, the late Dr. Basil Norris, U.S.A., a native of Frederick, resided in the Ricketts home, and I am certain that his memory is still revered in the District. When Mrs. Ricketts, upon her husband's death, broke up her Washington home, Dr. Norris went to San Francisco to reside. A daughter of mine on her way to join her husband in Honolulu was taken seriously ill in that city and was attended by him with consummate skill. He was then on the retired list of the Army, but had a large and fashionable practice in his newly adopted home.

In connection with Mrs. Lawrence my memory brings vividly before me my old and valued friends, Mrs. Maynadier, widow of General William Maynadier of the Ordnance Department of the Army, and her witty sister, Kate Eveleth. To render acts of kindness seemed their natural avocation, and I never think of them without recalling Sir Walter Scott's description of a ministering angel. I have heard Mrs. Maynadier say that at the time of her marriage her husband, then a young officer, was receiving a salary of only six hundred dollars; and yet she reared a large circle of children, her daughters marrying into prominent families and her sons becoming professionally well known. Their father was Aide to General Scott in the Black Hawk War and performed similar duty under General Alexander Macomb. Their mother lived to see the fourth generation of her descendants, many of whom still reside in the District.

When I returned to Washington, I found the old Decatur house facing Lafayette Square owned and occupied by General and Mrs. Edward F. Beale, who had recently returned from a long residence in California. Mr. Gouverneur had known the General—"Ned" Beale, as he was usually called—in other days and I soon derived much pleasure from Mrs. Beale's acquaintance. She was a woman of the most aristocratic bearing and was especially qualified to meet the exacting requirements of the most exclusive society. The household was rendered additionally brilliant by her two daughters, both of whom were then unmarried. The sparkling vivacity of the elder, Miss Mary Beale, who subsequently became Madame Bakhmeteff of Russia, is easily recalled; while her sister, now Mrs. John R. McLean, is so well known in Washington and elsewhere as to render quite superfluous any attempt to describe her many charming qualities. Their home was a social rendezvous, and I especially recall an entertainment I attended there when I met many social celebrities. General Beale had collected numerous relics of early California which seemed peculiarly adapted to the historic mansion, and these objects of interest, together with the highly polished floors, the many and brilliant lights and the large assemblage of society folk in their "best bibs and tuckers," presented a scene which is not readily effaced from one's memory. Among others I met that evening were General Ambrose E. Burnside, whom I had known as a cadet at West Point, and my old friend, Captain (afterwards General) Richard Tyldin Auchmuty of New York, who since I had last seen him had passed through the Civil War. This reception was given in honor of the then young but gifted tragedian, John E. McCullough, with whom the Beale family had formed a friendship in the far west.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] My youngest daughter, Rose de Chine Gouverneur, and Chaplain Roswell Randall Hoes, U.S.N., were married in Washington on the 5th of December, 1888.



CHAPTER XV

TO THE PRESENT DAY

Shortly after our return to Washington we received an invitation to a party at the house of Mr. and Mrs. William A. Richardson, the former Secretary of the Treasury in Grant's cabinet. In my busy life I have never seemed inclined to devote much time to the shifts and vagaries of fashionable attire. Although as a woman I cannot say that I have been wholly averse to array myself in attractive garments, they were always matters of secondary consideration with me and have yet to cause me a sleepless night. My indifference now confronted me, however, with the query as to what I should wear upon this particular occasion, and I was compelled, as merchants say, "to take account of stock," especially as my invitation reached me at too late a day to have a new gown made. Although while living in Frederick I did pretty much as I pleased in regard to dress, I realized that in Washington, willing or unwilling, I might be compelled to do, to a certain extent, what other people pleased; but such demands have their reasonable limits, and I therefore determined to ignore the dictates of fashionable sentiment and practice a little originality on my own account. I accordingly decided to wear a handsome and elaborate dress of a fashion of at least a generation before—a light, blue silk with its many flounces embroidered in straw in imitation of sheaves of wheat. In former years I had worn with this gown black velvet gloves which were laced at the side—a Parisian fancy of the day, a pattern of which had been sent me by Mrs. Schuyler Hamilton. These also I concluded to wear with the antiquated dress; and thus arrayed I attended the party and had a thoroughly good time, supposing, as a matter of course, that the incident was closed. The New York Graphic, however, seemed to think otherwise and dragged me into its columns in an article which was subsequently copied into other papers. Although at first I felt somewhat chagrined, upon further consideration I was inclined to be pleased, at least with that part of the narrative that made a passing allusion to my attire. This is what the Graphic said:—

Among the ladies frequently seen in society this winter is Mrs. Marian Campbell Gouverneur, daughter of the late James Campbell of New York and the wife of Samuel L. Gouverneur, the only surviving grandson of ex-President James Monroe. Mrs. Gouverneur is an elegant lady of pleasing manners, sparkling vivacity and possesses a fund of humor and a mind stored with a variety of charming information. She has traveled a great deal and seen much of the fashionable world. Mr. Gouverneur's mother was married in the White House and—think of it!—on a Spread Eagle—that is to say, on the carpet of which that very elastic bird made the central figure. Suppose Miss Nellie Grant, of whose engagement rumor outside of Washington talks so loud and this city appears to know nothing, should take it into her head to be married on a Spread Eagle, would not the other Eagle, the public, stretch its wings and utter a prolonged shriek? Now I ask you candidly, have we retrograded in matters of taste or become less loyal to the true spirit of our Republican institutions? Mrs. Gouverneur has the most wonderful collection of American and Asiatic antiques. She favors antique styles, even in matters of the toilet, and at a party last week had her dress looped with the ornaments which formed part of Mr. Monroe's court dress when Minister to France. She also wore black velvet mittens of that date.

While my sister, Mrs. Eames, was residing in Paris with her son and daughter, her home on the corner of H and Fourteenth Streets was occupied by Ward Hunt and his wife of Utica. Judge Hunt had recently been appointed a Justice of the Supreme Court, and I immediately renewed my associations of former days with his family. Next door to the Hunts lived Mr. and Mrs. Titian J. Coffey, the former of whom had accompanied ex-Governor Andrew G. Curtin of Pennsylvania upon his mission to Russia; and the adjoining residence, the old "Hill house," was the home of Mr. and Mrs. James C. Kennedy, the latter of whom was Miss Julia Rathbone of Albany. Their hospitality was lavish until the death of Mr. Kennedy, when his widow returned to Albany where a few years later she married Bishop Thomas Alfred Starkey of New Jersey. Mrs. Robert Shaw Oliver, wife of the present efficient Assistant Secretary of War, is her niece.

After Mrs. Kennedy left Washington, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Elkin Neil of Columbus, Ohio, with their daughter, Mrs. William Wilberforce Williams, lived in the "Hill house." They were people of large means and entertained on an extensive scale. Mrs. Neil belonged to the Sullivant family of Ohio whose women were remarkable for their beauty. The wife of William Dennison, one of the District Commissioners, was Mr. Neil's sister and her daughter, Miss Jenny Dennison, was one of the belles of the Hayes administration. There were so many representatives of the "Buckeye State" at that time in Washington that someone facetiously spoke of the city as the "United States of Ohio." Mr. and Mrs. Matthew W. Galt, parents of Mrs. Reginald Fendall, lived in the next house in the H Street block, while adjoining them resided Colonel and Mrs. James G. Berret. I knew Colonel Berret very well. Nature had been very lavish in her gifts to him, as he was the fortunate possessor of intelligence, sagacity and fine personal appearance. It was his frequent boast, however, that through force of circumstances he had received but "three months' schooling," but he took advantage of his subsequent opportunities and became an efficient mayor and postmaster of the City of Washington, while a prince might well have envied him his dignified and imposing address. He sold his attractive home to Justice William Strong of the U.S. Supreme Court, who with his family resided in it for many years and then moved into a house on I Street, near Fifteenth Street, which in late years has been remodeled and is now the spacious residence of Mr. Charles Henry Butler.

Directly across the street and in the middle of the block, between Fourteenth and Fifteenth Streets, lived Colonel and Mrs. John F. Lee. This is a house which I link with many pleasing associations. Mrs. Lee, whom I knew as Ellen Ann Hill, was a member of one of Washington's oldest families and with her husband had a country home in Prince George County in Maryland. She was a deeply religious woman and one of the saints upon earth. She gave me carte blanche to drop in for an informal supper on Sunday evenings—a privilege of which I occasionally availed myself. Colonel Lee was a Virginian by birth and a graduate of West Point, but at the beginning of the Civil War resigned his commission. His brother, Samuel Phillips Lee, however, who was then a Commander in the Navy, remained in the service and eventually became a Rear Admiral. Although differing so widely in their political views, the two brothers were respected and beloved by their associates, and never allowed their opinions upon matters of state to interfere with their fraternal affection. The only daughter of Colonel Lee, Mrs. Henry Harrison, usually spends her winters in Washington.

Next door to the Lees on the east lived Senator and Mrs. Zachariah Chandler, the parents of Mrs. Eugene Hale; while still further down the street was the residence of Doctor William P. Johnston, a favorite physician of long standing and father of Mr. James M. Johnston and Miss Mary B. Johnston, the latter of whom is President of the Society of Old Washingtonians of which I enjoy the honor of being a member. It is at her home on Rhode Island Avenue that the privileged few who are members of this exclusive organization meet once each month to listen to papers read on topics relating to earlier Washington and to discuss persons and events connected with its history. The insignia of the society is an orange ribbon bearing the words inscribed in black: "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?" A prominent member of this organization is Mrs. Anna Harris Eastman, widow of Commander Thomas Henderson Eastman, U.S.N., and daughter of the beloved physician, the late Medical Director Charles Duval Maxwell, U.S.N.

In the opinion of many old Washingtonians no history of the District of Columbia would be complete without some mention of The Highlands, the home of the Nourse family. In years gone by I remember that this ivy-covered stone house was deemed inaccessible, as it was reached only by private conveyance or stage coach. The first time I crossed its threshold I could have readily imagined myself living in the colonial period, as the furniture was entirely of that time. When I first knew Mrs. Nourse, who was Miss Rebecca Morris of Philadelphia, the widow of Charles Josephus Nourse, she was advanced in life, but notwithstanding the infirmities of age, she had just acquired the art of china painting, and was filling orders the proceeds of which she gave in aid of St. Alban's which was then a country parish. I frequently passed a day at this ancestral home, and I especially recall seeing a wonderful Elizabethan clock in the hallway which I am told is still, in defiance of time, striking the hours in the home of a descendant. Near The Highlands is Rosedale, occupied for many years by the descendants of General Uriah Forrest, who built it subsequent to 1782. He was the intimate friend of General Washington, and its present occupant, Mrs. Louisa Key Norton, daughter of John Green and widow of John Hatley Norton of Richmond, is my authority for the statement that one day after dining with her grandfather, General Forrest, Washington walked out upon the portico and, lost in admiration of the beautiful view, exclaimed: "There is the site of the Federal City." Mrs. Norton's sister, Miss Alice Green, married Prince Angelo de Yturbide, and it was their son, Prince Augustine de Yturbide, who was adopted by the Emperor Maximilian.

One of the pleasing local features connected with the Grant administration, which at the time made no special impression upon me, was the fact that there were then but few, if any, social cliques in Washington, and that society-going people constituted practically one large family. A stranger coming to the Capital at that time and properly introduced was much more cordially received than now. Such, for example, was the condition of affairs when Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Jeffrey came to Washington to spend a winter. They rented the old Pleasanton house on Twenty-first Street below F Street and entertained with true Southern hospitality. The Jeffrey family was of Scotch extraction and Mrs. Jeffrey was Miss Rosa Vertner of Kentucky, where she was favorably known as a poetess. The first wife of Alexander Jeffrey was Miss Delia W. Granger, a sister of my old and valued friend, Mrs. Sanders Irving. As soon as they were settled in their home, Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey gave a large evening entertainment which Mr. Gouverneur and I attended. We much enjoyed meeting there a number of Kentuckians temporarily residing in Washington—among others, Mrs. John Key of Georgetown and her sister, Mrs. Hamilton Smith; Mrs. William E. Dudley; and Wickliffe Preston and his sister, a decided blonde who wore a becoming green silk gown. Madame Le Vert and her daughter, Octavia Walton Le Vert, were also there and it is with genuine pleasure I recall the unusual vivacity of the former. This gifted woman was a pronounced belle from Alabama and had passed much of her life in Italy, where she had much association with the Brownings. During her absence abroad the ravages of our Civil War made serious inroads upon her financial circumstances, and when she visited Washington at the period of which I am speaking she gave a series of lectures upon Mr. and Mrs. Robert Browning in Willard's Hall on F Street. They received the endorsement of fashionable society and, at the conclusion of her last appearance, Albert Pike, the later apostle of Freemasonry, offered as an additional attraction a short discourse upon his favorite theme. Madame Le Vert's maiden name was Octavia Walton, and she was the granddaughter of George Walton, one of the Signers from Georgia, and the daughter of George Walton, the Territorial Governor of Florida. In 1836 she married Dr. Henry S. Le Vert, son of the fleet-surgeon of the Count de Rochambeau at Yorktown, Va. In 1858 her "Souvenirs of Travel" appeared, and later she wrote "Souvenirs of Distinguished People" and "Souvenirs of the War," but, for personal reasons, neither of the two was ever published.

My first acquaintance with George Bancroft, the historian, dates back to the year 1845, when he came from New England to deliver a course of lectures and was the guest of my father in New York. One of the evenings he spent with us stands out in bold relief. He was a man of musical tastes, and Justine Bibby Onderdonk, a friend of mine and a daughter of Gouverneur S. Bibby, who only a few days before had made a runaway match with Henry M. Onderdonk, the son of Bishop Benjamin T. Onderdonk of New York, happened to be our guest at the same time. Her musical ability was of the highest order and she delighted Mr. Bancroft by singing some of his favorite selections. Later, when he was Secretary of the Navy during the Polk administration, I saw Mr. Bancroft very frequently. I am not aware whether it is generally known that he began his political life in Massachusetts as a Whig. When I first knew him, however, he was a Democrat and the change in his political creed placed him in an unfavorable light in his State, most of whose citizens were well nigh as intolerant of Democrats as their ancestors had been of witches in early colonial days.

Upon my return to Washington I soon renewed my acquaintance with Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, and the entertainments I attended in their home on H Street, between Sixteenth and Seventeenth Streets, revived pleasant recollections of Mrs. Clement C. Hill, whose house they purchased and of whose social leadership I have already spoken. Mr. Bancroft at this time was well advanced in years, and in referring to his age I have often heard him say: "I came in with the century." In spite of the fact, however, that he had exceeded the years usually allotted to man, he could be seen nearly every day in the saddle with Herrman Bratz, his devoted German attendant, riding at a respectful distance in the rear. I may add, by the way, that a few doors from the Bancrofts lived Dr. George Clymer of the Navy with his wife and venerable mother-in-law, the latter of whom was the widow of Commodore William B. Shubrick, U.S.N.

Colonel Alexander Bliss, Mrs. Bancroft's son and familiarly known to Washingtonians as "Sandy" Bliss, lived just around the corner from his mother's. His wife was the daughter of William T. Albert, of Baltimore, but when I knew him best he was a widower. A few doors from Colonel Bliss lived Senator Matthew H. Carpenter, a political power of the first magnitude during President Grant's second presidential term, whose daughter Lilian was a reigning belle. Equestrian exercise was not then quite so popular in Washington as later, but it had its devotees, among whom was Colonel Joseph C. Audenreid, U.S.A., an unusually handsome man with a decidedly military bearing. He was generally accompanied by his daughter Florence, then a child, and was often to be seen riding out Fourteenth Street towards the Soldiers' Home, which was then the fashionable drive.

John L. Cadwalader, a cousin of Mr. Gouverneur and now one of the most prominent members of the New York bar, was Assistant Secretary of State under Hamilton Fish during the Grant regime. He was a bachelor and was accompanied to Washington by his two sisters, both of whom lived with him in a fine residence on the corner of L Street and Connecticut Avenue, which has since been torn down to make way for a large apartment house. It was while the Cadwaladers were occupying this residence that I first made the acquaintance of Dr. S. Weir Mitchell. Miss Mary Cadwalader brought him to see us in our Corcoran Street home and during the visit announced her engagement to him. He was then the highly eminent physician alone, as he had not yet entered the arena of fiction and poetry in which he has since attained such wide-spread distinction. It gives me pleasure to add that he suggested to me, while I was visiting in Philadelphia many years later, that I should write these reminiscences.