As I Remember
design, ill-directed though they be, is too valuable to the service to
be trifled with." Derby therefore was not brought to grief, and in time
Davis's anger was sufficiently mollified for him to enjoy the joke. I am
enabled to state, through the courtesy of the present Assistant
Secretary of War, that the drawings referred to are not now to be found
in the files of the War Department; and a picture, which at the time was
the source of untold amusement and of wide-spread notoriety, seems to be
lost to the world.
An incident connected with the Indian War of 1856-58, in Washington
Territory, furnished another outlet for Derby's effective wit. A
Catholic priest was taken prisoner by the savages at that time and led
away into captivity, and in caricaturing the scene Derby represented an
ecclesiastic in full canonicals walking between two stalwart and
half-naked Indians, carrying a crook and crozier, with a tooth-brush
attached to one and a comb to the other; while the letters "I. H. S." on
the priest's chasuble were paraphrased into the words, "I hate
Siwashes." It must not be thought, however, that Derby's life was wholly
devoted to fun and frivolity, for he has been pronounced by an
accomplished military writer and critic to have been "an able and
accomplished engineer." He was the author of "The Squibob Papers" and of
"Phoenixiana; or Sketches and Burlesques," either of which would
worthily place him in the forefront of humorists in the history of
American literature. I own a copy of the latter book which was given by
the author to my husband. It seems strange, when one considers the
character and career of this gifted man, that subsequent to his death
nearly every member of his family should have met with a tragic end.
Although not a practical joker, my husband found much in Derby that was
congenial, as many of their tastes were similar. Both of them were
devoted to literature and both were accomplished writers; but while
Derby published his works and was rewarded with financial success, Mr.
Gouverneur wrote chiefly for the newspaper press. He edited and
published a work by James Monroe, entitled "The People the Sovereigns,"
but never sent to the press any works of his own production. I think
that the lack of encouragement from me was the chief obstacle that
deterred him from embarking upon a literary career. He commenced several
novels but never finished them, and his chief literary remains are
principally confined to the limits of his "commonplace-books."
President Buchanan's niece, Harriet Lane, subsequently Mrs. Henry
Elliott Johnston of Maryland, presided with grace and dignity over the
White House during her uncle's administration. I first met Miss Lane
before the period when Buchanan represented the United States at the
Court of St. James. It was at a party given by Mrs. Hamilton Fish,
whose husband was then a U.S. Senator from the State of New York. Her
blond type of beauty made an indelible impression upon me, as she was
very much the same style as the daughters of General Winfield Scott.
Some years before her death, while she was living in Washington, I
incidentally referred to this resemblance between the Scotts and herself
and was not surprised to hear her say that others had spoken of it. To
an exceptionally fine presence, she added unusual intelligence and
brilliant power of repartee. I have often heard the story that at a
social function at the White House an accomplished courtier was
enlarging to Miss Lane upon her shapely hands--"hands," he ejaculated,
"that might have swayed the rod of empire." Her retort came without a
moment's hesitation, "or wake to ecstasy the living lyre." Emily
Schomberg, who married Hughes Hallett of England, wrote some years ago a
charming sketch of Harriet Lane Johnston which was published in Mrs.
Elizabeth F. Ellet's book entitled, "The Court Circles of the Republic."
Among the prominent belles of the Buchanan administration, and an
intimate friend and companion of Harriet Lane, was Rebecca B. Black,
daughter of the eminent jurist, Judge Jeremiah S. Black of Pennsylvania,
Attorney-General and for a time Secretary of State under Buchanan. She
was the widow of Isham Hornsby of Washington, where, in her beautiful
home, she was surrounded by a charming circle and was much admired and
beloved. Peter Grayson Washington, a son of Lund Washington, whom I have
already mentioned in connection with my wedding, was a conspicuous
figure at the National Capital during the Buchanan _regime_. During the
Pierce administration he was Assistant Secretary of the Treasury under
James Guthrie. He had an impressive bearing, and carried a gold-headed
cane which he boasted had originally belonged to his distinguished
relative, the first President. Although by birth a Virginian, Mr.
Washington never wavered in his loyalty to the Union. During the latter
part of the Civil War he made a visit to us in our Maryland home, and I
shall always remember the expression of his opinion that many leaders of
the Confederate cause were not true representatives of the South, citing
as examples some members of Jefferson Davis's cabinet. He concluded his
remarks with the facetious statement that "if they had only chosen a
second Washington as a leader they might have been successful." Earlier
residents of the District will recall Littleton Quinton Washington, a
prolific writer chiefly upon political subjects, and a younger
half-brother of Peter G. Washington.
My old and valued friend, Mrs. Hamilton Holly, and Peter Grayson
Washington were the Godparents of my eldest daughter. At the earnest
request of the former, this ceremony took place in the house of Mrs.
Alexander Hamilton, in the De Menou buildings. Mrs. Holly and I
characterized the gathering as a revolutionary party, as so many of the
guests bore names prominent during our struggle for independence. I
never saw Mrs. Hamilton Holly again. Shortly after this pleasant
function I sailed for China, and just before starting on my long voyage
I received the following note, which saddened me more than I can well
express:--
SEP. 9th.
My dear friend,
For many days I have been blessed by your very kind letter,
but am too, too low to answer it. One day so weak as to be
obliged with my hand to wave Mrs. Furguson away (another
lady obtained admittance), lest in the effort to converse I
might find another home. My hand and head are exhausted.
Most truly yours,
E. H. HOLLY.
CHAPTER XII
SOJOURN IN CHINA AND RETURN
Prior to the Civil War, Mr. Gouverneur received an appointment from
James Buchanan as U.S. Consul to Foo Chow in China, and I decided to
accompany him upon his long journey. Meanwhile a second daughter had
been added to our family, much to the disappointment of the large circle
of relatives who were still anxiously expecting me to hand down the name
of Gouverneur. We named her Ruth Monroe. We took passage upon the
clipper ship _Indiaman_, a vessel of heavy tonnage sailing from New York
and commanded by a "down-east" skipper named Smith. No railroads crossed
the American continent in those days, and the voyage to the far East had
to be made either around Cape Horn or by way of the Isthmus of Panama or
around the Cape of Good Hope. We selected the latter route, leaving New
York in October and arriving in Shanghai the following March. My
preparations for such a protracted journey with two very young children
were carefully and even elaborately planned but, to my dismay, some of
the most important articles of food for the childrens' diet became unfit
for use long before we reached our destination. As one may readily
imagine, I was accordingly put to my wits' end for substitutes. We also
provided ourselves with a goodly amount of literature, and more
particularly books relating to China, among which were Father Evariste
Regis Huc's volume on "The Chinese Empire," and Professor S. Wells
Williams's work on "The Middle Kingdom." We read these _en route_ with
great interest but discovered after a few months' residence in the East
that no book or pen we then knew conveyed an adequate idea of that
remarkable country.
We had a very favorable voyage, and sailing in the trade winds in the
Southern hemisphere was to me the very acme of bliss. I was thoroughly
in sympathy with the passage of Humboldt where he speaks of the tropical
skies and vegetation in the following beautiful manner:--"He on whom the
Southern Cross has never gleamed nor the Centaur frowned, above whom the
clouds of Magellan have never circled, who has never stood within the
shadow of great palms, nor clothed himself with the gloom of the
primeval forests, does not know how the soul seems to have a new birth
in the midst of these new and splendid surroundings. Nowhere but under
the equatorial skies is it permitted to man to behold at once and in the
same sweep of the eye all the stars of both the Northern and Southern
heavens; and nowhere but at the tropics does nature combine to produce
the various forms of vegetation that are parceled out separately to
other climes."
The patience of our captain was sorely tried by the lack of wind while
passing through the Doldrums. This nautical locality, varying in breadth
from sixty to several hundred miles and shifting in extreme limits at
different seasons of the year, is near the equator and abounds in calms,
squalls and light, baffling winds which sometimes prevent the progress
of sailing vessels for weeks at a time. When we finally emerged from the
Doldrums, we were compensated for the trying delay by greeting the trade
winds so cherished by the hearts of mariners. We sailed many leagues
south of the Cape of Good Hope and much too far away even to catch a
glimpse of it, but we realized its proximity by the presence of the Cape
pigeons which hovered around our vessel. The albatross was also our
daily visitor and one or two of them were caught by the sailors,
regardless of the superstition of possible calamity attending such an
act. Our only stop during the long voyage was at the Moluccas or Spice
Islands, in the Malay Peninsula, and was made at the request of the
passengers who were desirous of exploring the beauties of that tropical
region. The waters surrounding these islands were as calm as a lake and
all around our ship floated the debris of spices. The vegetation was
more beautiful than I can describe and the shells which covered the
shores were eagerly collected by the passengers.
Our fellow voyagers were four missionaries, who on Sundays conducted
divine service, and a Mr. Pemberton, a young Canadian who was _en
voyage_ to join the _Hong_ of Purden and Company in Shanghai. In these
early days it was the custom of parents of refractory or adventurous
sons to place them on board sailing vessels for lengthy outings.
Occasionally they were sent upon whaling voyages, where the hardships
were greater and the voyage more prolonged. On the _Indiaman_ there were
several of these youths and it was quite pathetic as well as comical to
see them ascend the rigging amid the jeers of a well-disciplined crew.
One of them, whose father had occupied an official position in the City
of New York, had been quite a society "swell" and claimed acquaintance
with me. At times he was required by the captain to hold my younger
child, a mere babe, in the arms. Every now and then we were startled by
her shrieks and for quite a time we could not detect the cause until we
finally discovered that his task was uncongenial and that, in order to
get rid of his charge, the incorrigible youth had administered an
occasional pinch.