As I Remember
daughter from
your sincerely attached friend and cousin,
M. C. KEMBLE.
On the corner of Fourteenth and P Streets, and not far from our home,
was the residence of Eliab Kingman, an intimate friend of Mr.
Gouverneur's father. This locality, now such a business center, was
decidedly rural, and Mr. Kingman's quaint and old-fashioned house was in
the middle of a small farm. It was an oddly constructed dwelling and the
interior was made unusually attractive by its wealth of curios, among
which was a large collection of Indian relics. After his death I
attended an auction held in the old home and I remember that these
curiosities were purchased by Ben Perley Poore, the well-known
journalist. Although many years his senior, my husband found Mr. Kingman
and his home a source of great pleasure to him, and he formed an
attachment for his father's early friend which lasted through life. The
Kingman house was the rendezvous of both literary and political circles.
William H. Seward was one of its frequent visitors and I once heard him
wittily remark that it might appropriately be worshiped, as it resembled
nothing "that is in the Heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or the
water under the earth." For a number of years Mr. Kingman was a
correspondent of _The Baltimore Sun_ under the _nom de plume_ of "Ion."
His communications were entirely confined to political topics and he was
such a skilled diplomatist that the adherents of either party, after
perusing them, might easily recognize him as their own advocate. Thomas
Seaton Donoho, of whom I shall speak presently, was a warm friend of Mr.
Kingman and the constant recipient of his hospitality. Among his poems
is a graceful sonnet entitled
E. KINGMAN.
Ever will I remember with delight
Strawberry Knoll; not for the berries red,
As, ere my time, the vines were out of bed,
And gone; but many a day and many a night
Have given me argument to love it well,
Whether in Summer, 'neath its perfumed shade,
Whether by moonlight's magic wand arrayed,
Or when in Winter's lap the rose leaves fell,
For pleasant faces ever there were found,
For genial welcome ever met me there,
And thou, my friend, when thought went smiling round,
Madest her calm look, reflecting thine, more fair.
Those who have known thee as a Statesman, know
Thy noon-day: I have felt thy great heart's sunset glow!
Mr. Kingman married Miss Cordelia Ewell of Virginia, a relative of
General Richard S. Ewell of the Confederate Army. She was in some
respects a remarkable character, a "dyed-in-the-wool" Southerner and a
woman of unusual personal charm and ability. In dress, manner and
general appearance she presented a fitting reminder of the _grande dame_
of long ago. Her style of dress reminded one of the Quaker school. Her
gray gown with a white kerchief crossed neatly upon her breast and her
gray hair with puffs clustered around her ears, together with her quaint
manner of courtesying as she greeted her guests, suggested the familiar
setting of an old-fashioned picture. She was an accomplished performer
upon the harp as well as an authority upon old English literature. In
all the years I knew her I never heard of her leaving her house. She had
no children and her constant companion was a venerable parrot.
John Savage, familiarly known as "Jack" Savage, was an intimate friend
of the Kingmans and also a frequent guest of ours. He was an Irish
patriot of 1848 and was remarkable for his versatility. He had a fine
voice, and I remember seeing him on one occasion hold his audience
spell-bound while singing "The Temptation of St. Anthony." He was an
accomplished journalist and the author of several books, one of which,
"The Modern Revolutionary History and Literature of Ireland," has been
pronounced the best work extant "on the last great revolutionary era of
the Irish race."
After the Civil War I often met at Mr. Kingman's house General Benjamin
F. Butler, whose withering gift of sarcasm is still remembered. Simon
Cameron, Lincoln's first Secretary of War, was also a frequent visitor
there. He was an unusually genial and cordial gentleman, and some years
later Mr. Kingman and my husband, upon his urgent invitation, visited
him at his handsome country place, Lochiel, in Pennsylvania. His fine
graperies made such a vivid impression upon my husband that his
description of them almost enabled me to see the luscious fruit itself
before me.
My old friends, Purser Horatio Bridge, U.S.N., and his wife, lived on
the corner of K and Fourteenth Streets at a hotel then known as the
Rugby House. Mrs. Bridge was a sister of the famous beauty, Miss Emily
Marshall, who married Harrison Gray Otis of Boston. Mr. Bridge, while on
the active list, had been stationed for a time in Washington and,
finding the life congenial and attractive, returned here after his
retirement and with his wife made his home at the Rugby House. While
there the hotel was offered for sale and was bought by Mr. Bridge, who
enlarged it and changed its name to The Hamilton, in compliment to Mrs.
Hamilton Holly, an intimate friend of Mrs. Bridge and the daughter of
Alexander Hamilton. Mrs. Holly, my old and cherished friend, lived in a
picturesque cottage on I Street, on the site of the present Russian
embassy, where so many years later the wife and daughter of Benjamin F.
Tracy, Harrison's Secretary of the Navy, lost their lives in a fire that
destroyed the house. Among the attractions of this home was a remarkable
collection of Hamilton relics which subsequent to Mrs. Holly's death was
sold at public auction. The sale, however, did not attract any
particular attention, as the craze for antiques had not yet developed
and the souvenir fiend was then unknown.
It was while I was living on Twelfth Street that I first met Miss
Margaret Edes, so well known in after years to Washingtonians. She was
visiting her relatives, the Donoho family, which lived in my immediate
vicinity. Her host's father was connected with _The National
Intelligencer_, and the son, Thomas Seaton Donoho, was named after
William Winston Seaton, one of its editors. Thomas Seaton Donoho was a
truly interesting character. He was decidedly romantic in his ideas and
many incidents of his life were curiously associated with the ivy vine.
He planted a sprig of it in front of his three-story house, which was
built very much upon the plan of every other dwelling in the
neighborhood, and called his abode "Ivy Hall"; while his property in the
vicinity of Washington he named "Ivy City," a locality so well known
to-day by the same name to the sporting fraternity. His book of poems,
published in Washington in 1860, is entitled "Ivy-wall"; and, to cap the
climax, when a girl was born into the Donoho family she was baptized in
mid-ocean as "Atlantic May Ivy." In addition to his poems, he published,
in 1850, a drama in three acts, entitled, "Goldsmith of Padua," and two
years later "Oliver Cromwell," a tragedy in five acts.
Soon after my marriage, Mr. Gouverneur acted as one of the pallbearers
at the funeral of his early friend, Gales Seaton, the son of William
Winston Seaton, and a most accomplished man of affairs. In those days
honorary pallbearers were unknown and the coffin was borne to the grave
by those with whom the deceased had been most intimately associated. The
Seatons owned a family vault, and the body was carried down into it by
Mr. Seaton's old friends. After the funeral I heard Mr. Gouverneur speak
of observing a coffin which held the remains of Mrs. Francis Schroeder,
who was Miss Caroline Seaton, and whose husband, the father of Rear
Admiral Seaton Schroeder, U.S.N., was at one time U.S. Minister to
Sweden and Norway. Seaton Munroe, a nephew of Gales Seaton, was
prominent in Washington society. He never married and many persons
regarded him as the Ward McAllister of the Capital. When Colonel Sanford
C. Kellogg, U.S.A., then military _attache_ of the U.S. Embassy in
Paris, heard of Munroe's death, he wrote to a mutual friend: "I do not
believe the man lives who has done more for the happiness and welfare of
others than Seaton Munroe." He was one of the prominent founders of the
Metropolitan Club, which commenced its career in the old Morris house on
the corner of Vermont Avenue and H Street; and later, when it moved to
the Graham residence on the corner of Fifteenth and H Streets, he
continued to be one of its most popular and influential members.
In April, 1858, occurred the famous Gwin ball, so readily recalled by
old Washingtonians. It was a fancy-dress affair, and it was the
intention of Senator and Mrs. William McKendree Gwin of California that
it should be the most brilliant of its kind that the National Capital
had ever known. Of course Mr. Gouverneur and I did not attend, owing to
my deep mourning, but I shall always remember the pleasure and amusement
we derived in dressing Mr. Kingman for the occasion. We decked him out
in the old court dress which Mr. Gouverneur's grandfather, James Monroe,
wore during his diplomatic mission in France. As luck would have it the
suit fitted him perfectly, and the next day it was quite as gratifying
to us as to Mr. Kingman to hear that the costume attracted marked
attention.
The ball was rightly adjudged a brilliant success. Among the guests was
President Buchanan, though not, of course, in fancy dress. Senator Gwin
represented Louis Quatorze; Ben Perley Poore, "Major Jack Downing"; Lord
Napier, George Hammond--the first British Minister to the United States;
Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, Aurora; Mrs. Jefferson Davis, Madame de Stael;
and so on down the list. It is probable that the wife of Senator
Clement C. Clay, of Alabama, who represented Mrs. Partington, attracted
more attention and afforded more amusement than any other guest.
Washington had fairly teemed with her brilliant repartee and other
bright sayings, and upon this occasion she was, if possible, more than
ever in her element. She had a witty encounter with the President and a
familiar home-thrust for all whom she encountered. Many of the public
characters present, when lashed by her sparkling humor, were either
unable or unwilling to respond. She was accompanied by "Ike," Mrs.
Partington's son, impersonated by a clever youth of ten years, son of
John M. Sandidge of Louisiana. Mr. John Von Sonntag Haviland, formerly
of the U.S. Army, wrote a metrical description of this ball, and in
referring to Mrs. Clay, thus expresses himself:--
Mark how the grace that gilds an honored name,
Gives a strange zest to that loquacious dame
Whose ready tongue and easy blundering wit
Provoke fresh uproar at each happy hit!
Note how her humour into strange grimace
Tempts the smooth meekness of yon Quaker's face.
* * * * *
But--denser grows the crowd round Partington;
'Twere vain to try to name them one by one.
Mr. Haviland added this to the above:--"Mrs. Senator Clay, with knitting
in hand, snuff-box in pocket, and 'Ike, the Inevitable,' by her side,
acted out her difficult character so as to win the unanimous verdict
that her personation of the loquacious _mal-aprops_ dame was the leading
feature of the evening's entertainment. Go where she would through the
spacious halls, a crowd of eager listeners followed her footsteps,
drinking in her instant repartees, which were really superior in wit and
appositeness, and, indeed, in the vein of the famous dame's _cacoethes_,
even to the original contribution of Shillaber to the nonsensical
literature of the day."
One of the guests at this ball was the wife of the late Major General
William H. Emery, U.S.A., whose maiden name was Matilda Bache. She was