CHAPTER X

DIPLOMATIC CORPS AND OTHER CELEBRITIES

I have already spoken of the Count de Sartiges, who so ably represented

the French Government in the United States. He had not been very long in

this country when he married Miss Anna Thorndike of Boston, and while

residing in Washington they dispensed a lavish hospitality. Just before

he came to this country, the Count spent several years in Persia, which

was then regarded as an out-of-the-way post of duty. I recall quite an

amusing incident which occurred at an entertainment given by the

Countess de Sartiges to which I was accompanied by George Newell,

brother-in-law of William L. Marcy. Mr. Newell had not been in

Washington long enough to, become acquainted with all the members of the

Diplomatic Corps, and, crossing the room to where I stood, he inquired:

"Who is the Aborigine who has been sitting next to me?" I looked in the

direction indicated and recognized the well-known person of General Juan

Nepomuceno Almonte, the Mexican Minister, whose features strongly

portrayed the Indian type. Some matrimonial alliances in Mexico at this

time, by the way, were more or less complicated; for example, General

Almonte's wife was his own niece.

The first Secretary of the French Legation was Baron Geoffrey Boilleau,

who remained in this country for several years. While stationed in

Washington, he married Susan Benton, a daughter of Thomas H. Benton,

U.S. Senator from Missouri and a political autocrat in his own State,

another of whose daughters, Jessie Ann, was the wife of General John C.

Fremont. At a later day, both Boilleau and Fremont became involved in

difficulties of a serious character in consequence of which the former,

while Minister to Ecuador, was recalled to France, where, as I am

informed, he was convicted and confined for a period in the

_Conciergerie_. I am not fully acquainted with the exact details of the

charges upon which he was tried, but they had their origin in the

negotiation of certain bonds of the proposed Memphis and El Paso

Railroad. In my opinion, however, no one who knew Baron Boilleau well

ever doubted his integrity. He was a man of decidedly literary tastes

and, like many persons of that character, possessed but meager knowledge

of business. It seems that General Fremont had obtained from the

Legislature of Texas a grant of state lands in the interests of the

railroad just referred to, which was to be a portion of a projected

transcontinental line from Norfolk, Virginia, to San Diego and San

Francisco. It has been stated that "the French agents employed to place

the land-grant bonds of this road on the market made the false

declaration that they were guaranteed by the United States. In 1869 the

Senate passed a bill giving Fremont's road the right of way through the

territories, an attempt to defeat it by fixing on him the onus of the

misstatement in Paris having been unsuccessful. In 1873 he was

prosecuted by the French government for fraud in connection with this

misstatement. He did not appear in person, and was sentenced by default

to fine and imprisonment, no judgment being given on the merits of the

case."

Prince Louis de Bearn, Secretary of the French Legation, was a gentleman

of most pleasing personality. He was a strikingly handsome bachelor at

the time I knew him and was much seen in the gay world. He was never

called "Prince" in those days, but "Count"; but in a letter now before

me, written in 1904 by his son, who was recently an attaché of the

French Embassy in Washington, he claims that both his father and

grandfather were Princes by right of birth. He also states that the

title was borne by his family before the Revolution of 1789. During his

official life in Washington, Prince de Bearn married Miss Beatrice

Winans, daughter of Ross Winans of Baltimore. Chevalier John George

Hulsemann, the Austrian Minister, was a convivial old bachelor and was

much esteemed at the Capital for his genial qualities. He lived on F

Street, below Pennsylvania Avenue, and was stationed in Washington for

many years.

Chevalier Giuseppe Bertinatti, the Italian Minister, commenced his

diplomatic career in Washington as a bachelor. He did not occupy a house

of his own, but lodged at the establishment of Mrs. Ulrich, which was

the headquarters of many foreigners. Fifty years ago and more, the

members of the Diplomatic Corps, with few exceptions, lived either in

modest residences or in boarding houses, in striking contrast with many

of the imposing mansions now occupied by the official representatives of

foreign lands. His mission was a diplomatic success and while at the

capital he married Mrs. Eugénie Bass, a handsome widow from Mississippi,

and soon departed upon another mission, taking his American bride with

him. Soon after the announcement of his prospective marriage, Count

Bertinatti issued invitations to a large dinner given in honor of his

_fiancée_. When the gala day arrived, Mrs. Bass, though quite

indisposed, was persuaded to be present at the dinner, but, feeling

decidedly ill, she retired from the table and in a short time became

much nauseated. When this state of affairs was explained to General

George Douglas Ramsay, one of the guests of the evening, his quick sally

was, "a Bass relief!"

Baron Frederick Charles Joseph von Gerolt, whom I knew very well and who

represented King William of Prussia, is still affectionately recalled by

his few survivors who cling to early associations. His departure from

Washington with his family was more deeply regretted than that of some

other foreign residents whom I remember, as they had made many friends

and had lived in Washington so long that they were regarded almost as

permanent residents. The Misses Bertha and Dorothea von Gerolt were

graceful dancers and were very popular. Dorothea married into the

Diplomatic Corps and accompanied her husband to Greece. I have heard

that Bertha became deeply attached to the Chevalier A. P. C. Van

Karnabeek, secretary of the Netherlands Legation, but that, owing to

religious considerations, her parents frowned upon the alliance. She

accordingly determined to enter upon a cloistered life and went to the

Georgetown convent where she became a nun, and was known until the day

of her death in 1890 as "Sister Angela." Baron von Gerolt was an

intellectual man and, prior to his career in the United States, his name

was much associated with Baron Alexander von Humboldt; but as neither he

nor Madame von Gerolt were proficient English scholars when they first

arrived they naturally depended upon others for instruction. I can vouch

for the truth of the statement that upon one occasion they were advised

by members of his own legation to greet those whom they met with the

words, "I'm damned glad to see you."

Mr. Alfred Bergmans, Secretary of the Belgian Legation, married Lily

Macalister, a Philadelphia heiress, who, in her widowhood, returned to

this country and made Washington her home. Madame Bergmans was a devotee

to society and was particularly fond of dancing. She was a _petite

blonde_, and, even after it ceased to be fashion, she wore her light

hair down her back in many ringlets. When George M. Robeson, President

Grant's Secretary of the Navy, saw her for the first time one evening

while she was dancing, he exclaimed, "That is the tripping of the light

fantastic toe." She married quite late in life J. Scott Laughton, who

was considerably her junior, but did not long survive the alliance.

Many members of the Diplomatic Corps of this period married American

women. Baron Guido von Grabow, one of the secretaries of the Prussian

Legation whom I knew very well, married Mrs. Edward Boyce, whose maiden

name was Nina Wood. She was a granddaughter of President Zachary Taylor

and was well known and beloved by old Washingtonians. Her marriage to

Baron von Grabow offers strong encouragement to persistent suitors. He

was deeply in love with her prior to her first marriage, but she

rejected him for Edward Boyce, who was a member of a prominent

Georgetown family. Mr. Boyce lived only a few years, and her subsequent

married life with Baron von Grabow was long and happy.

Alexandre Gau, _Chancelier_ of the Prussian Legation, married my younger

sister, Margaret, who was regarded as a remarkable beauty as well as an

accomplished linguist and pianist. Her wedding took place in our G

Street home in the same room where five months later her funeral

services were held. Mr. Gau did not long survive her and was interred by

her side in my father's old burial plot in Jamaica, Long Island.

Don Calderon de la Barca, the Spanish Minister to the United States,

together with his wife, who was Miss Fanny Inglis, and her sister, Miss

Lydia Inglis, were presiding social spirits in Washington for many

years. The latter married a Mr. McLeod, and, becoming financially

embarrassed, established on Staten Island a school for girls which was

ably conducted. These sisters were members of a Scotch family of

distinguished lineage. One of Mrs. McLeod's pupils was Mary E. Croghan,

a prominent heiress from Pittsburgh. She was still attending school on

Staten Island when Captain Edward W. H. Schenley of the Royal Navy, a

Scotch relative of Mrs. McLeod, came to America to visit her. In

inviting him to be her guest she felt that, as he was an elderly man,

he would prove to be quite immune to the attractions of mere school

girls. I met Captain Schenley about this same time in New York, and his

"make up" was of such a remarkable character that it was a favorite _on

dit_ that, when he was dressed for standing, a sitting posture was quite

an impossibility. Young Miss Croghan must have discovered fascinations

in this Scotchman as she eloped with him from Mrs. McLeod's school and

after a brief period accompanied him to England, where she spent the

remainder of her life. Mrs. McLeod was severely criticised by her

patrons for carelessness, and her school was somewhat injured by Miss

Croghan's matrimonial adventure.

Don Leopoldo Augusto De Cueto was another Spanish Minister, whom I

regarded as an agreeable acquaintance. During his _régime_ filibustering

against Spanish possessions, and especially Cuba, was a favorite pastime

of American citizens and rendered the position of the Spanish Minister

in Washington one of delicacy and difficulty. Residing in Washington

during De Cueto's tenure of office was a Cuban named Ambrosio José

Gonzales, who, in the Civil War, became Inspector General of Artillery

in the Confederate Army, under General Beauregard. As he was well versed

in music and had a remarkable voice, he frequently, upon request, sang

selections from the popular operas then in vogue. Among the songs

frequently heard in drawing-rooms was "Suoni la Tromba," from Bellini's

opera "I Puritani di Scozia," which had been interdicted by the Spanish

Government. One evening when De Cueto was spending an informal evening

with my sisters and myself at our G Street home, Mr. Gonzales happened

to call and was asked to sing. He seated himself at the piano and for

sometime sang various airs for us. Finally, not knowing that "Suoni la

Tromba" was under the Spanish ban, I asked him to sing it. During the

song De Cueto was politely attentive, and at its conclusion had the

politeness to applaud it. Imagine, however, my surprise when I heard a

few days later, through a mutual friend, that Gonzales had boasted that

he sang the song in De Cueto's presence, proudly adding that he had

looked the Spaniard full in the eye when he uttered the word

_libert[)a]_.

Mr. José de Marcoleta, the Nicaraguan Minister to the United States, was

an elderly and punctilious Spaniard. He was indefatigable in the

observance of all social duties, and I met him wherever I went. He was a

bachelor but, soon after his arrival in Washington, announced his

engagement to Miss Mary West of Boston, who unfortunately died before

her wedding day. I am under the impression that he eventually married

another American. I remember once when he called to see us I asked him

to tell me something about Nicaragua, which was then an almost unknown

country. My surprise can hardly be described when he told me he had

never seen the country which he represented, but was a native of Spain.

Baron Waldemar Rudolph Raasloff represented Denmark in a manner

creditable both to his country and our own. He told me that some years

previous to his mission to America he came to New York in the capacity

of an engineer and was engaged on work in New York harbor, "blowing up

rocks." Possibly he was thus employed at "Hell Gate," at that time one

of the most dangerous obstacles to navigation in that vicinity.

The well-known "Octagon," as the old Tayloe home on the corner of New

York Avenue and Eighteenth Street is still called, during my early

residence in Washington was closed. Many superstitious persons regarded

it with fear, as its reputation as a haunted house was then, in their

opinion, well established. I have been told by the daughters of General

George D. Ramsay that upon one occasion their father was requested by

Colonel John Tayloe, the father of Benjamin Ogle Tayloe, to remain at

the Octagon over night, when he was obliged to be absent, as a

protection to his daughters, Anne and Virginia. While the members of the

family were at the evening meal, the bells in the house began to ring

violently. General Ramsay immediately arose from the table to

investigate, but failed to unravel the mystery. The butler, in a state

of great alarm, rushed into the dining-room and declared that it was the

work of an unseen hand. As they continued to ring, General Ramsay held

the rope which controlled the bells, but, it is said, they were not

silenced. The architect of the Octagon was Dr. William Thornton, of the

West Indies, who designed the plans of the first capitol in Washington

and who was the controlling spirit of the three Commissioners appointed

by Congress to acquire a "territory not exceeding ten miles square" for

the establishment of a permanent seat of government. These men were

Daniel Carroll, Thomas Johnson, first Governor of the State of Maryland,

and David Stuart. Most of this land, which included Georgetown and

Alexandria, was primeval forest and was owned chiefly by Daniel Carroll,

Notley Young, Samuel Davidson and David Burns.

The Commissioners had great difficulty in dealing with Burns, who owned

nearly all of what is now the northwestern section of the city, as he

was a closefisted and hardheaded Scotchman, who was unwilling to part

with his lands without being roundly paid for them. When argument with

him proved fruitless, it is said that General Washington, realizing the

gravity of the situation, rode up several times from Mount Vernon to

discuss the situation with "stubborn Mr. Burns." At length, in despair,

he remarked: "Had not the Federal City been laid out here, you would

have died a poor planter." "Ay, mon," was Burns's ready response, "and

had you no married the widder Custis wi' a' her nagres ye'd ha'e been a

land surveyor the noo', an' a mighty poor ane at that!" It is further

related that Washington finally succeeded in winning Burns over to his

way of thinking, and that the canny Scotchman, realizing how largely he

was to profit by the transaction, actually became generous and gave to

the Commissioners, in fee simple, his apple orchard which is now the

beautiful Lafayette Square.

In passing through Lafayette Square, I have often sat down upon a bench

to rest near the "wishing tree," a dwarf chestnut so well known to

residents of the District, and I have been impressed by the many

superstitious persons, both men and women, who have stopped for a moment

and silently stood under its branches. Many are the credulous believers

in its power to satisfy human desires, and the season when its branches

are full of nuts is regarded by these as a specially propitious time for

their realization. With many persons this tree is the basis of their

only superstition.

I remember the case of a young girl who had been working very hard to

obtain a position in one of the departments but without success and who,

thoroughly discouraged, came to the tree early one morning and made the

wish that to her and her family meant the actual necessities of life.

She then sat down to rest upon a near-by bench before going home, and

while there became engaged in conversation with a pleasing looking

woman, to whom she poured forth her heart as she related her hopes and

disappointments about obtaining a government position. As her listener

was a sympathetic person, she asked the young woman her name and

address, and in a few days the poor girl received a notice to go to a

certain department for examination. It seems that her companion under

the tree was the wife of an influential Senator, who was so touched by

the young woman's efforts, as well as by her childish faith in the

"wishing tree," that she took pleasure in seeing that her great desire

was gratified.

At this time Washington was not far behind other large cities in games

of chance, and gambling was frequently indulged in quite openly. Edward

Pendleton's resort, a luxurious establishment down town, was regarded as

quite _à la mode_, and I have heard it said that he had able assistance

from social ranks. I have often wondered why a man who indulged in this

sport was called a gambler, as the term "gamester," used many years ago,

seems decidedly more appropriate. I own two volumes of a very old book,

published in the eighteenth century, entitled "The Gamesters," in which

the heroes are professional gamblers. I have seen Mrs. Pendleton's

costly equipage, drawn by horses with brilliant trappings and followed

by blooded hounds, coursing the length of Pennsylvania Avenue, while its

owner seemed entirely unconscious of the aching hearts which had

contributed to all her grandeur. Cards were universally played in

private homes and whist was the fashionable game, General Scott being

one of its chief devotees. I have often thought how much the old General

would have enjoyed "bridge," as there was nothing that gave him more

pleasure than playing the "dummy hand."

My old friend, Mrs. Diana Bullitt Kearny, the widow of General "Phil"

Kearny, in our many chats in her latter days, gave me many reminiscences

of Washington at a time when I was not residing there. She described a

fancy-dress ball given by her while residing in the old Porter house on

H Street, which must have been about 1848, as General Kearny had just

returned from the Mexican War. She dwelt particularly upon the costume

of Emma Meredith, one of her guests and the daughter of Jonathan

Meredith of Baltimore, who came to Washington to attend the party. She

represented a rainbow and her appearance was so gorgeous that Mrs.

Kearny said the Heavenly vision seemed almost within the grasp of common

mortals. Miss Meredith's supremacy as a belle has never been eclipsed. I

recall a painful incident connected with her life. A young naval

officer was deeply in love with her and, it is said, was under the

impression that she intended to marry him. At a theater party one

evening he discovered his mistake and, taking the affair to heart,

returned to his quarters and the same evening swallowed a dose of

corrosive sublimate. Physicians were immediately summoned and, although

he regretted the act and expressed a desire to live, they were unable to

save him. It is said that about the same time Miss Meredith left her

home in Baltimore to visit her sister, Mrs. Gardiner G. Howland, whose

husband was one of the merchant princes of New York, and that, as she

crossed the Jersey City Ferry, one of the first objects which met her

eyes was the funeral cortege of her disappointed lover _en route_ to his

final resting place. Subsequent to this tragedy, I met Miss Meredith in

Saratoga, surrounded by the usual admiring throng. She never married. I

heard of her in recent years, at a summer resort near Baltimore, and,

although advanced in years, I understood she still possessed exceptional

powers of attraction. Only a short time ago I heard a young man remark

that he knew her very well and that he would rather converse with her

than with women many years her junior.

Mrs. Kearny was said to be the last of the "Lafayette girls." In 1825,

when Lafayette made his memorable visit to the United States as the

guest of the nation, she was living with her parents in Louisville, and

at the tender age of five strewed flowers in the pathway of the

distinguished Frenchman. She remembered the incident perfectly and in

our numerous conversations I have repeatedly heard her allude to it. She

told me that, seated at General Lafayette's side in the carriage which

conveyed him through the city, was the great-uncle, Colonel Richard C.

Anderson, who led the advance of the American troops at the Battle of

Trenton. General Robert Anderson, U.S.A., whose memory the country

honors as the defender of Fort Sumpter, was his son. The General's

widow, a daughter of General Duncan L. Clinch, U.S.A., resided in

Washington until her death a few years ago. She was a woman of rare

intelligence and, although a great invalid for many years, gathered

around her an appreciative circle of friends, who were always charmed by

her attractive personality.

In my earliest recollection of Washington the old Van Ness house was

still sheltered by many trees. The foliage was so dense that it may have

been the desire of the occupants to shield themselves in this manner

from public view. When I first knew the landmark it was occupied by

Thomas Green, an old-time resident of the District. He married, as his

second wife, Ann Corbin Lomax, a daughter of Major Mann Page Lomax of

the Ordnance Department of the Army. During the Civil War, Mr. Green's

sympathies were with the South, but he took no active part in the

conflict. One of his idiosyncrasies was to pick up, on and around his

spacious grounds, scraps of old iron, such as horse shoes, hay rakes and

the like, which were placed in a corner of his capacious cellar.

Suspicion was centered upon his house by information given to the

government by an old family servant who thought he was doing the country

a service, and directions were accordingly given that it should be

searched. While this order was in process of execution, the discovery of

the scrap-iron is said to have played an important part and in some

unaccountable manner to have aroused further suspicion. Whatever the

logic of the situation may have been is not intelligible, but the fact

remains I that Mr. and Mrs. Green and the latter's sister, Miss Virginia

Lomax, were arrested in a summary manner and taken to the Old Capital

Prison, where for a time they were kept in close confinement, during

which Miss Lomax suffered severe indisposition and, as is said, never

entirely recovered from the effects of her incarceration. About

twenty-five years after the War, while staying at the same house with

her in Warrenton, Virginia, I quite longed to hear her reminiscences of

prison life; but when I expressed my desire to a member of her family, I

was requested not to broach the subject as, even at this late day, it

was painful to her as a topic of conversation.

During the War of 1812, Major Lomax was sent upon a mission to Canada by

the U.S. Government and, one day during his brief sojourn, dined in

company with some British officers. During the dinner a toast was

offered by one of the sons of John Bull: "To President Madison, dead or

alive." The responding toast by Major Lomax was: "To the Prince Regent,

drunk or sober." The British officer who had proposed the toast to

Madison immediately sprang to his feet and with much indignation

inquired: "Do you mean to insult me, sir?" The quick rejoinder was: "I

am responding to an insult!"

I met Charles Sumner soon after his first appearance in the United

States Senate as the successor of Daniel Webster, who had become

Secretary of State. He was a man of striking appearance and bore himself

with the dignity so characteristic of the statesmen of that period.

"Sumner is one of them literary fellows," was the facetious criticism of

the Hon. Zachariah Chandler of Michigan, who a few years later became

one of his colleagues in the Senate, and who in earlier life was

accumulating a large fortune while Mr. Sumner, in his Massachusetts

home, was engaged in those intellectual and scholarly pursuits which

eventually made him one of the ripest and most accomplished students in

the land. Chandler, however, in his own way, furnished a conspicuous

example to aspiring youths of the day, both by his earlier and

subsequent life, of what may be accomplished by determined application.

For a decade or more preceding the Civil War the political sentiment of

Washington, especially in reference to the violent anti-slavery

agitation then engrossing the thought of the country, was decidedly in

sympathy with the attitude of the South. It is not, therefore,

surprising that Sumner, whose radical views were known from Maine to

Texas, should have been received at first in Washington society with but

little cordiality. As the years passed along, he was rapidly forging

himself ahead to the leadership of his party in the Senate and, of

course, became strongly inimical to Buchanan's administration. He was

regarded with confidence and esteem by his own party, and, although

naturally both disliked and feared by his political opponents, it could

be truthfully said of him that he was

A man that fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks,

and that no attempts to socially ostracize or to deride him for his

political views and his intense application to his sense of duty

deterred the great Massachusetts statesman from pursuing the "even tenor

of his way."

An anecdote went the rounds of the Capital to the effect that, one

morning when a gentleman called to see Sumner at his rooms on

Pennsylvania Avenue, a colored attendant answered the door and after

glancing at his card informed him that it would be impossible to disturb

his master, as he was rehearsing before a looking-glass a speech which

he expected to deliver the following morning. Whether this was

originally told by a friend or foe of Mr. Sumner is not known. Mr.

Sumner once requested me to take him to see a young Washington belle who

combined Parisian grace with Kentucky dash. I refer to Miss Sally

Strother, an acknowledged beauty of decidedly Southern views, who lived

on Seventh Street near F Street, now a commercial center. Mr. Sumner and

I walked to her house from my home on G Street and found several guests

in her drawing-room, where the topic of conversation, in the course of

the evening, drifted to the subject of spiritualism. It was announced

that at a recent _séance_ the spirit of Washington had appeared and

uttered the usual platitudes, whereupon Miss Strother, without a

moment's hesitation, remarked: "I wonder what General Washington would

say about Mr. Sumner?" Someone undertook to define Washington's views,

but Miss Strother interrupted and said: "I know just what he would

say--that he was a very intelligent, a very handsome, but a very bad

man." This remark was naturally productive of much mirth, but failed to

arouse any manifestation of feeling or disapprobation on the part of Mr.

Sumner. Later, as we were walking homeward he remarked: "I have

_l'esprit d'escalier_ and my retorts do not come until I am well-nigh

down the flight of stairs." Sally Strother went abroad, where she

married Baron Fahnenberg of Belgium, and shared a fate similar to that

of many of her country-women, as she was finally separated from her

husband. She cherished, however, a pride of title and bequeathed $60,000

to erect in Spa, Belgium, a handsome chapel as well as a vault to

contain the remains of her mother, brother and herself. Her Kentucky

relatives, however, including the family of Mrs. Basil Duke, succeeded

in breaking the will on the ground that her mother's will, through which

she had inherited her property, did not permit it to leave the family.

The chapel and vault, accordingly, were not built, and all her property

reverted to her relatives.

In addition to his commanding presence, nature bestowed upon Mr. Sumner

a clear and melodious voice, which rendered it quite unnecessary for him

to resort to Demosthenic methods of cultivation. For many years his

inspiring words could be heard upon the floor of the Senate in all of

the leading debates of the day, and his masterly orations will go down

to posterity as an important contribution to the history of many

national administrations.

I well remember Preston S. Brooks's cowardly assault upon Charles Sumner

in the Senate Chamber in the spring of 1856. Public indignation ran very

high, and his political opponents referred to him thereafter as "Bully

Brooks." Socially, as well as politically, he was popular. He possessed

a gentle and pleasing bearing and it would have been difficult for

anyone to associate him with such a cruel outrage. His uncle, Andrew P.

Butler, who was in the U.S. Senate from South Carolina at the same time,

was a fine-looking and venerable gentleman, but he was one of the class

then designated as "fire-eaters."

There existed between Mr. Sumner and Henry W. Longfellow a strong

friendship which was contracted in early life. I have often heard the

Massachusetts statesman recite some of his friend's poetical lines,

which seemed to me additionally beautiful when rendered in his deep and

sonorous voice. In the latter years of his life he resided in the house

which is now the Arlington Hotel Annex, where he surrounded himself with

his remarkable collection of books and articles of _virtu_ which he

exhibited with pride to his guests. I especially recall an old clock

presented to him by Henry Sanford, Minister to Belgium, as an artistic

work of exceptional beauty. Mr. Sumner, by the way, was an accomplished

connoisseur in art. I have heard him strongly denounce Clark Mills's

equestrian statue of General Andrew Jackson, now standing in the center

of Lafayette Square. He told me that on one occasion he was conducting a

party of Englishmen through the streets of the National Capital and, as

they were driving along Pennsylvania Avenue, he seated himself in such a

position as to entirely obstruct the view of what he called this

"grotesque statue," calling the attention of his guests, meanwhile, to

the White House on the other side of the street.

I felt honored in calling Charles Sumner my friend, and I take especial

pleasure in repeating the encomium that "to the wisdom of the statesman

and the learning of the scholar he joined the consecration of a patriot,

the honor of a knight and the sincerity of a Christian." George Sumner,

his brother, did not appear in the land of his birth as a celebrity, but

he had a remarkable career abroad. He hobnobbed with royalty throughout

the European continent and was highly regarded for his profound

learning. He studied at the Universities of Heidelberg and Berlin and

traveled extensively through Europe, Asia and Africa. He never tarried

long in his "native heath," and furnished conspicuous evidence that "a

prophet is not without honor save in his own country." Alexander von

Humboldt praised the accuracy of his researches and Alexis de

Tocqueville referred to him as being better acquainted with European

politics than any European with whom he was acquainted.

While Sumner was in the Senate, George T. Davis of Greenfield,

Massachusetts, was a member of the House of Representatives. I knew him

very well and he was a constant visitor at our home. He was celebrated

for his flashes of wit, which sometimes stimulated undeveloped powers in

others, and I have often seen dull perceptions considerably sharpened at

his approach. Oliver Wendell Holmes speaks of his witty sayings in the

"Autocrat of the Breakfast Table," and his conversational powers were so

brilliant that they won the admiration of Thackeray. Robert Rantoul,

also from Massachusetts, and a colleague of Davis, was a "Webster Whig"

and a powerful exponent of the "Free-Soil" faith. Davis, who was so

bright and clever in the drawing-room, could not, however, compete with

Rantoul on the floor of the House in parliamentary debate. The epitaph

on Rantoul's monument says that "He died at his post in Congress, and

his last words were a protest in the name of Democracy against the

Fugitive-Slave Law." One of the verses of Whittier's poem, entitled

"Rantoul," reads as follows:--

Through him we hoped to speak the word

Which wins the freedom of a land;

And lift, for human right, the sword

Which dropped from Hampden's dying hand.

I first met the eccentric Count Adam Gurowski at the convivial tea table

of Miss Emily Harper in Newport, upon one of those balmy summer evenings

so indelibly impressed upon my memory. He was, perhaps, in many

respects, one of the most remarkable characters that Washington has ever

known. He was a son of Count Ladislas Gurowski, an ardent admirer of

Kosciusko, and was active in revolutionary projects in Poland in

consequence of which he was condemned to death by the Russian

authorities. He managed, however, to escape and in 1835 published a work

entitled "La Verité sur la Russie," in which he advocated a union of the

various branches of the Slavic race. This book was so favorably regarded

in Russia that its author was recalled and employed in the civil

service. He came to this country in 1849, and, after being employed on

the staff of _The New York Tribune_, came to Washington, where his

linguistic attainments and the aid of Charles Sumner secured for him a

position as translator in the State Department, which he held from 1861

to 1863.

The Count was a medley of strange whims and idiosyncrasies that almost

baffle description. Together with his strong individuality, he possessed

a trait which made many enemies and ultimately proved his undoing. I

refer to his uncontrollable desire to contradict and to antagonize. It

was simply impossible to find a subject upon which he and anyone else

could agree. There were, however, extenuating circumstances. "Chill

penury," forced upon him by the state of his financial affairs, had much

to do with his cynical and acrimonious spirit. Prosperity is certainly

conducive to an amiable bearing, and I believe that Gurowski would have

been more conciliatory if adversity had not so persistently attended

his pathway. It is highly probable, too, that Gurowski would have

retained his position under the government indefinitely but for his

unfortunate disposition. He wrote a diary from 1861 to 1863 which he was

so indiscreet as to keep in his desk in the State Department; and,

unknown at first to him, some of its pages were brought to the attention

of certain officials of the government. They contained anything but

complimentary references to his chief, William H. Seward, Secretary of

State, and he was discharged. Meanwhile he had antagonized his

benefactor, Mr. Sumner, by opposing, in a caustic manner, his views in

reference to the conduct of the Civil War, and by other similar

indiscretions was making new enemies almost every day.

The intense bitterness and intemperance of Gurowski in the expression of

his views is well illustrated in a conversation quoted by one of his

friends in _The Atlantic Monthly_ more than forty years ago. It had

reference to a period preceding the Civil War when the "Fugitive-Slave

Law" was engrossing the attention of the country. "What do I care for

Mr. Webster," he said. "I can read the Constitution as well as Mr.

Webster." "But surely, Count, you would not presume to dispute Mr.

Webster's opinion on a question of constitutional law?" "And why not? I

tell you I can read the Constitution as well as Mr. Webster, and I say

that the 'Fugitive-Slave Law' is unconstitutional--is an outrage, and an

imposition of which you will all soon be ashamed. It is a disgrace to

your humanity and to your republicanism, and Mr. Webster should be hung

for advocating it. He is a humbug or an ass--an ass, if he believes such

an infamous law to be constitutional, and if he does not believe it, he

is a humbug and a scoundrel for advocating it."

The Count's sarcastic reference to Secretary Seward is equally amusing.

It seems that one of his duties, while in the State Department, was to

keep a close watch upon the European newspapers for matters of interest

to our government, and also to furnish the Secretary of State, when

requested, with opinions on diplomatic questions, or, as Gurowski

expressed it, "to read the German newspapers and keep Seward from making

a fool of himself." The first duty, he said, was easy enough, but the

latter was rather difficult!

In 1854 Gurowski published his book, "Russia as it is," which was soon

followed by another work entitled, "America and Europe." Both of them

met with a favorable reception, but, after losing his government

position, it became a difficult matter for him to eke out a maintenance,

and his disposition, if possible, became still more embittered. At an

evening party I took part by chance in an animated discussion upon the

subject of dueling. Suddenly my eye lighted upon Count Gurowski, who had

just entered the room. Calling him to my side I asked him in facetious

tones how many men he had killed. He quickly responded, "Wonly (only)

two!"

Count Gurowski's fund of knowledge was in many ways highly remarkable,

especially upon his favorite theme of royalty and nobility, past and

present. He was intensely disliked by the Diplomatic Corps in

Washington, many of whose members regarded him as a Russian spy, a

suspicion which, of course, was without the slightest foundation. Baron

Waldemar Rudolph Raasloff, the Danish Minister, once refused to enter a

box at the opera where I was seated because Gurowski was one of the

party. The Count seemed to be in touch with sources of information

relating to diplomats and their affairs which were unknown to others--a

fact which naturally aroused dislike and jealousy. He once announced to

me, for example, that the _attachés_ of the French Legation were in a

state of great good humor, as their salaries had been raised that day.

I once heard a member of a foreign legation say to another: "Gurowski is

an emanation of the Devil." "The Devil, you say," was the response,

"why, he is the Devil himself." In discussing with a foreigner the

Count's exile by the Russian government, I said that I knew of relatives

of his in high position in Russia. Evidently controlled by his

prejudices, he replied: "It must be a family of contrasts, as his

position in this country is certainly a low one." If he intended to

convey the impression that the Count was "low" in his pocket, his

statement was certainly correct, but not otherwise. It is true that his

unhappy disposition made him more enemies than friends, but he was by no

means devoid of admirable traits, even if he so frequently preferred to

conceal them. The finer side of his nature and his pleasing qualities

only were presented to my sister, Mrs. Eames, who always welcomed him to

her house. One day when he called the condition of his health seemed so

precarious that she insisted upon his becoming her guest. He accepted

the invitation, but did not long survive, and in the spring of 1866 his

turbulent spirit passed away while under my sister's roof. Much respect

was paid to his memory and the most distinguished men and women in

Washington attended his funeral. He is buried in the Congressional

Cemetery, where a crested tablet surmounts his grave. Little was

generally known of his immediate family relations, but Robert Carter,

one of his most intimate friends and the author of the article in _The

Atlantic Monthly_, already referred to, states that he was a widower and

had a son in the Russian Navy and a married daughter in Switzerland.

Early in life his brother, Count Ignatius Gurowski, met the Infanta

Isabella de Bourbon, sister of the Prince Consort of Spain, while she

was receiving her education at the _Sacre Coeur_ in Paris, and eloped

with her. They were pensioned by the Spanish government for a while

under Queen Isabella's reign and made their home in Brussels. I have

heard, however, that when Isabella was forced from the throne the

pension ceased and their circumstances became quite reduced. It is said

that the Prince Consort, Ignatius Gurowski's brother-in-law, suggested

to him soon after his marriage that it might be well for him to be

created a Duke of the realm. This friendly offer was declined with

indignation. "I would prefer," said Gurowski, "being an old Count to a

new Duke!"

Sometime ago I saw the statement in a newspaper to the effect that

descendants of Ignatius Gurowski were living in the United States. This

suggests, although remotely, the inquiry heard many years ago: "Have we

a Bourbon among us?"--referring, of course, to the last Dauphin, whom

many believed to exist in the person of the Rev. Eleazer Williams, who

resided in St. Lawrence County, New York. The Rev. Dr. Francis L. Hawks

had such an abiding faith that Williams was actually the Dauphin that he

wrote an article in 1853 for _Putnam's Magazine_ expressive of his

views. If the newspaper story and Dr. Hawks's claims be true, this

country has accordingly been the retreat of more than one member of the

ill-fated Bourbon family. Several years ago I was surprised to hear it

stated that the father of Kuroki, the famous Japanese General, was a

brother of Adam and Ignatius Gurowski. This information, I am informed,

came from a nephew of General Kuroki who was receiving his education in

Europe. "My uncle Kuroki," he is said to have written, "is of Polish

origin. His father was a Polish nobleman by the name of Kourowski, who

fled from Russia after the Revolution of 1831. He finally went to Japan

and married a Japanese. As the name of Kourowski is difficult to

pronounce in Japanese, my uncle pronounced it Kuroki. The General's

father, upon his death bed said to him that perhaps some day he would

be able to take vengeance upon the Russians for their cruel treatment of

unhappy Poland."

One of the most notable men of my acquaintance in Washington was Caleb

Cushing. I first met him when he was Attorney-General in President

Pierce's Cabinet, and the friendship formed at that time lasted for many

years. He was among the guests at my wedding, and Miss Emily Harper,

whom he accompanied, told me that he especially commented upon that

portion of the service which reads, "those whom God hath joined

together, let no man put asunder." His remarks evidently appealed to her

as an ardent Roman Catholic. Ralph Waldo Emerson declared Mr. Cushing to

be the most eminent scholar of the country, and Wendell Phillips went

still further and said: "I regard Mr. Cushing as the most learned man

living." His habit was one of constant acquirement. He was what I should

call "a Northern man with Southern principles," an expression which

originated in 1835, and was first applied to Martin Van Buren. I have

heard Cushing defend slavery with great eloquence and although, like

him, I was born and bred in the North, I regarded that institution, in

some respects, as far less iniquitous than the infamous opium trade

which so enriched British and American merchants, and of which I saw so

much during my life in China.

It must have been from his Pilgrim forefather that Mr. Cushing inherited

a decided antipathy for Great Britain, and it was once said that he

carried this prejudice so far that he refused to visit England. This

statement, however, is untrue, as I have before me an amusing article,

written many years ago by his private secretary, during his mission to

Spain, which contradicts it. He gives some amusing incidents connected

with his visit of a few days in London when he and Mr. Cushing were _en

route_ to Spain. "Mr. Cushing's headwear," he writes, "was a silk hat

which must have been the fashion of about the time he discarded

umbrellas. It was slightly pointed at the top and there was, so to say,

no back or front to it and there was no band for it. As I knew he

intended paying several visits, I asked him if he would not exchange his

hat, which at the time was thoroughly soaked, for a new and lighter one.

The old man took off his ancient hat, examined it critically and then

said slowly and deliberately, as if delivering an opinion on the bench,

'No, sir, I think that I shall wait and see what the fashions are in

Madrid.' It was said with much earnestness, as if it had been a state

question. A third person would have found it irresistibly funny, but

there was nothing laughable in it to General Cushing. In fact, his sense

of humor was of a very grim order." He also writes: "The old man was an

inveterate smoker, and yet, during the whole period of my intercourse

with him, I did not see him light a score of fresh cigars. He bought

them, that is certain, but he must have been averse to lighting them in

public for he almost invariably had a stump between his lips. Ask him if

he would have a cigar and the answer would be, 'Thank you, sir, I think

I have one,' and out would come a dilapidated case, from which he would

shake from one to half a dozen butts as the supply ran."

While Cushing was Attorney-General under President Pierce, he formed a

friendship with Madame Calderon de la Barca, of whom I have already

spoken, who, upon his arrival in Madrid, was one of the first persons to

greet him. She was then a widow and occupied a high social position at

the Spanish court. Cushing and she thoroughly enjoyed the renewal of

their earlier friendship in Washington, and the last visit he made in

Madrid was when he bade her a final farewell. In 1843, and prior to his

mission to Spain, Mr. Cushing was appointed by President Tyler Minister

to China, where his able diplomacy has been the subject of recognition

and admiration to this day. He carried with him the following

remarkable letter which he was charged by the President to deliver in

person to the Emperor. It may have been--who knows?--the first lesson in

occidental geography submitted to the "Brother of the Sun and the Sister

of the Moon and Stars." Had the President of the United States been

called upon to address a country Sunday School, he could hardly have

exhibited a more conscious effort to adapt himself to the level of his

hearers. This is the letter:--

I, John Tyler, President of the United States of

America--which states are Maine, New Hampshire,

Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Vermont, New York,

New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia,

North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky,

Tennessee, Ohio, Louisiana, Indiana, Mississippi, Illinois,

Alabama, Missouri, Arkansas and Michigan--send this letter

of peace and friendship, signed by my own hand.

I hope your health is good. China is a great empire,

extending over a great part of the world. The Chinese are

numerous. You have millions and millions of subjects. The

twenty-six United States are as large as China, though our

people are not so numerous. The rising sun looks upon the

great mountains and great rivers of China. When he sets he

looks upon mountains and rivers equally large in the United

States. Our territories extend from one great ocean to the

other; and on the west we are divided only from your domain

by the sea. Leaving the mouth of one of our great rivers and

going constantly towards the setting sun we sail to Japan

and the Yellow Sea.

Now, my words are that the governments of two such great

countries should be at peace. It is proper and according to

the will of heaven that they should respect each other and

act wisely. I therefore send to your Court Caleb Cushing one

of the wise and learned men of this country. On his first

arrival in China he will inquire for your health. He has

strict orders to go to your great city of Pekin and there

to deliver this letter. He will have with him secretaries

and interpreters.

The Chinese love to trade with our people and sell them tea

and silk for which our people pay silver and sometimes other

articles. But if the Chinese and Americans will trade there

should be rules so that they shall not break your laws or

our laws. Our minister, Caleb Cushing, is authorized to make

a treaty to regulate trade. Let it be just. Let there be no

unfair advantage on either side. Let the people trade not

only at Canton, but also at Amoy, Ningpo, Shanghai, Fushan

and all such other places as may offer profitable exchanges

both to China and the United States, provided they do not

break your laws or our laws. We shall not take the part of

the evil doers. We shall not uphold them that break your

laws. Therefore we doubt that you will be pleased that our

messenger of peace, with this letter in hand, shall come to

Pekin and there deliver it, and that your great officers

will, by your order, make a treaty with him to regulate the

affairs of trade, so that nothing may happen to disturb the

peace between China and America. Let the treaty be signed by

your own imperial hand. It shall be signed by mine, by the

authority of the great council, the Senate.

And so may your health be good and may peace reign.

Written at Washington this twelfth day of July, in the year

of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and forty-three.

Your good friend,

JOHN TYLER,

President.

Mr. Cushing accordingly negotiated our first treaty with China on the 3d

of July of the following year, and his ability at that time, as well as

thereafter, won for him, irrespective of party affiliations, an enviable

place in the history of American diplomacy. He was sent upon his mission

to Spain in 1874 by the party which he had opposed from its first

organization, and his diplomatic erudition was indispensable to the

State Department during the Grant administration.

Certain events in the career of Mr. Cushing serve to recall the days of

Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Pierce, whose lives were clouded by a grief that

saddened the whole of their subsequent career. A short time before

Pierce's inauguration, the President-elect with Mrs. Pierce and their

only son, a lad of immature years, were on their way to Andover in

Massachusetts, when the child was accidentally killed. Mrs. Pierce never

could be diverted from her all-absorbing sorrow, and I shall always

remember the grief-stricken expression of this first Lady of the Land.

Her maiden name was Jane Means Appleton, and she was the daughter of the

Rev. Dr. Jesse Appleton, President of Bowdoin College. During the Pierce

administration, Judge John Cadwalader, the father of the present John

Cadwalader of Philadelphia, was a member of Congress. The son was then a

mere lad, but he bore such a strong resemblance to the President's son

that one day when Mrs. Pierce met him she was completely overcome. After

this boy had become a man and had attained exceptional eminence at the

bar, he feelingly alluded to this touching incident of his earlier days.

I was very intimately acquainted with Elizabeth and Fanny MacNeil,

President Pierce's nieces, who were occasional visitors at the White

House. They were daughters of General John MacNeil, U.S.A., who had

acquitted himself with distinction in the War of 1812. Elizabeth

married, as before stated, General Henry W. Benham of the Engineer Corps

of the Army, and Fanny became the wife of Colonel Chandler E. Potter,

U.S.A. Dr. Thomas Miller was our family physician for many years. He

came to Washington from Loudoun County, Virginia, and married Miss

Virginia Collins Jones, daughter of Walter Jones, an eminent lawyer.

During the Pierce administration he was physician to the President's

family.