As I Remember
on the streets in Washington, she was joined by a distinguished prelate
of the Roman Catholic Church, and inquired whether he could lay aside
his cloth long enough to listen to a conundrum? Upon receiving a
favorable response, she asked: "Why is His Holiness, the Pope, like a
goose?" The reply was: "Because he sticks to his Propaganda!"
I shall always recall with pleasure a dinner party I attended at the
residence of Edward Everett. As Mrs. Everett was in very delicate health
and seldom appeared in public, Mr. Everett presided alone. The
invitations were for six o'clock, and dinner was served promptly at that
hour. I was taken into the dining-room by Mr. Philip Griffith, one of
the Secretaries of the British Legation. We had just finished our second
course when, to the surprise of everyone, a tall and gaunt gentleman was
ushered into the dining-room. It was Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia,
then a member of Congress and subsequently Vice-President of the
Southern Confederacy. Mr. Everett at once arose and shook hands with Mr.
Stephens and with an imperturbable expression of countenance motioned
the butler to provide another seat at the table. For a moment there was
a slight confusion, as the other guests were obliged to move in order to
make room for the new comer; but everything was speedily arranged and
Mr. Stephens began his dinner with the third course. No explanation was
offered at the moment, but later, while we were drinking our coffee in
the drawing-room, I noticed Mr. Everett and Mr. Stephens engaged in
conversation.
A few days later, through Mr. Colin M. Ingersoll, a Representative in
Congress from Connecticut, the cause of Mr. Stephens' late appearance at
the dinner was made clear to me. It seems that Mr. Everett and the
French Minister, the Count Eugene de Sartiges, his next door neighbor,
were giving dinner parties the same evening. The dinner hour at the
French Legation was half-past six o'clock, while Mr. Everett's was half
an hour earlier. Through the mistake of a stupid coachman, Mr. Stephens
was landed at the door of Count de Sartiges's home and entered it under
the impression that it was Mr. Everett's residence. He walked into the
drawing-room and suspected nothing, as nearly all the guests were
familiar to him. Count de Sartiges, however, surprised at the presence
of an unbidden guest, anxiously inquired of Mr. Ingersoll the name of
the stranger, and upon being informed remarked: "I'll be very polite to
him." Seating himself by Mr. Stephens' side, an animated conversation
followed. Meanwhile other guests arrived and the Count de Sartiges
became diverted, while Mr. Stephens, still unconscious of his mistake,
turned to Mr. Ingersoll, who stood near, and in an irritated tone of
voice said: "Who is this Frenchman who is tormenting me, and where is
Mr. Everett?" Mr. Ingersoll explained that the Frenchman was the Count
de Sartiges, and that Mr. Everett was probably presiding over his own
dinner in the adjoining house.
My _vis a vis_ at Mr. Everett's table was Miss Ann G. Wight, a woman
with an unusual history. She was born in Montgomery County, Maryland,
and as a child was placed in a convent. She eventually became a nun and
an inmate of the Convent of the Visitation in Georgetown, where she
assumed the name of "Sister Gertrude." She was an intellectual woman and
was deeply beloved by her associates. Without any apparent cause,
however, she planned an escape from the convent and sought the residence
of her relative, General John P. Van Ness, dropping her keys, as I have
understood, in Rock Creek as she passed over the Georgetown bridge. Mrs.
Charles Worthington, a Catholic friend of mine who was educated at this
same convent, gave me the following explanation of her conduct: There
was an election for Mother Superior, and Miss Wight, deeply disappointed
that she was not chosen to fill the position, was dissatisfied and when
it became her turn to answer the front-door bell, suddenly determined to
leave. She was, however, recognized by one of the priests, who followed
her to General Van Ness's residence, where he insisted upon seeing her.
At first she refused to meet him, but, upon informing the General that
he must learn from her own lips whether her departure was voluntary, she
consented to see him in the presence of her relative. She admitted that
she had in no way been influenced. When I first met Miss Wight she was
more devoted to "the pride, pomp and circumstance" of the world than
many who had not led such deeply religious lives. She was still living
at the residence of General Van Ness, and I have heard that she always
remained a Roman Catholic. During the Everett dinner my escort, Mr.
Philip Griffith, remarked to me in an undertone: "We have an escaped nun
here; are we going to have an _auto da fe_?" I responded that I believed
it to be a matter of record that _autos da fe_ were solely a courtly
amusement.
Mrs. Sidney Brooks, formerly Miss Fanny Dehon of Boston, was another of
Mr. Everett's guests. She was a relative of our host, and it was her
custom to make prolonged visits to the Everett home. Her presence in
Washington was always hailed with delight. She was a pronounced blonde,
and her reputation as a brilliant conversationalist was widely extended.
Rufus Choate was an occasional visitor in Washington subsequent to his
brilliant senatorial career which ended in 1845. That I had the pleasure
of intimately knowing this man of wit and erudition is one of the
brightest memories of my life. His quaint humor was inexhaustible and
some of his bright utterances will never perish. When a younger sister
of mine was lying desperately ill in Washington in 1856 he called to
inquire about her condition, and the tones of his sympathetic voice
still linger in my ear. It has been fittingly said of Mr. Choate that
even one's name uttered by him was in itself a delicate compliment. It
is to him we owe the inspiring quotation, "Keep step to the music of the
Union," which he uttered in his speech before the Whig convention of
1855. I have heard some of Mr. Choate's clients dwell upon his mighty
power as an advocate, and it seems to me that words of law flowing from
such lips might have been suggestive of the harmony of the universe. The
chirography of Mr. Choate was equal to any Chinese puzzle; it was even
more difficult to decipher than that of Horace Greeley. I once received
a note from him and was obliged to call upon my family to aid me in
reading it. He had a fund of humor which was universally applauded by an
admiring public. Once, in replying to a toast on Yale College at the
"Hasty-Pudding" dinner, he said that "everything is to be irregular this
evening." He followed this remark by poking a little fun at the expense
of the College by reading a portion of the will of Lewis Morris, one of
the Signers and the father of Gouverneur Morris. This document was
executed in 1760 in New York, and in it he expresses his "desire that my
son, Gouverneur Morris, may have the best education that is to be had in
Europe or America, but my express will and directions are that he be
never sent for that purpose to the Colony of Connecticutt, lest he
should imbibe in his youth that low craft and cunning so incident to the
People of that Colony, which is so interwoven in their Constitutions
that all their art cannot disguise it from the World; though many of
them, under the sanctifyed garb of Religion, have endeavored to impose
themselves on the World for honest men." The laughter which followed the
reading of this extract was as _regular_ as the remarks were
_irregular_. It may be added that Lewis Morris died two years after
making this will, when his son Gouverneur was between ten and eleven
years of age, and that his desires were respected, as his son was
graduated from King's (now Columbia) College in New York in 1768, when
only sixteen years old. His father, cold in the grave, had his revenge
on the "Colony of Connecticutt" and the hatchet, for aught we know to
the contrary, was forever buried, while old Elihu's college still
survives in New Haven.
An anecdote relating to Gouverneur Morris still lingers in my memory.
Before his marriage, quite late in life, to Miss Anne Cary Randolph, his
nephew, Gouverneur Wilkins, was generally regarded as heir to his large
estate. When a direct heir was born, Mr. Wilkins was summoned to the
babe's christening. One of the guests began to speculate upon the name
of the youngster, when Mr. Wilkins quickly said, "Why, _Cut-us-off-sky_,
of course," in imitation of the usual termination of such a large number
of Russian names.
In 1852 John F. T. Crampton was British Minister to the United States
and I had the pleasure of knowing him quite well. He was a bachelor of
commanding presence, and it was rather a surprise to Washingtonians that
he evaded matrimonial capture! He lived in Georgetown in an old-time and
spacious mansion, surrounded by ample grounds. The proverbial
tea-drinking period had not arrived, but Mr. Crampton, notwithstanding
this fact, gave afternoon receptions for which his house, by the way,
was especially adapted. In 1856, during the Crimean War, an
unpleasantness arose between Great Britain and this country in
connection with the charge that Crampton had been instrumental in
recruiting soldiers in the United States for service in the British
Army. Accordingly, in May of the same year, President Pierce broke off
diplomatic relations with him and he was recalled. There was never,
however, any severe reflection made upon him by his home Ministry, and
after his return to England he was made a Knight of the Bath by Lord
Palmerston, and a little later became the British Minister at St.
Petersburg. In the autumn of 1856, while in Russia, he married Victoire
Balfe, second daughter of Michael William Balfe, the distinguished
musical composer, from whom he was divorced in 1863.
I frequently attended receptions at the British Legation, and I
particularly recall those in the spring of the year when they took the
form of _fetes champetres_ upon the well-kept lawn. On these occasions
the Diplomatic Corps was well represented, as well as the resident
society. I have heard a curious story about Henry Stephen Fox, the
English Minister in Washington from 1836 to 1844. He evidently
represented the sporting element of his day, as it was said he was _en
evidence_ all night and seldom visible by daylight. He was, moreover,
exceedingly careless about some of the reasonable responsibilities of
life which rendered it difficult for his creditors to secure an
audience. They, however, surrounded his house in the First Ward one
evening and demanded in clamorous tones that he should name a definite
time when he would satisfy their claims. Fox appeared at a front window
and pleasantly announced that, as they were so urgent in their demands,
he would state a time which he hoped would meet with their satisfaction,
and accordingly named in stentorian voice the "Day of Judgment."
One of the constant visitors at our home on G Street was John
Savile-Lumley, who was appointed in 1854 as the Secretary of the British
Legation under Crampton, and in the following year became the English
_Charge d'affaires_ in Washington. I remember him as a fine looking
gentleman and an especially pleasing specimen of the English race. He
was the natural son of John Lumley-Savile, the eighth Earl of
Scarborough, by a mother of French origin. After leaving Washington, he
represented his country in Rome and other prominent courts of Europe,
and, upon his retirement from the diplomatic service in 1888, was raised
to the peerage as Baron Savile of Rufford in Nottinghamshire. The last I
heard of him was through one of Lord Ronald Gower's charming books of