CHAPTER XIII

THE CIVIL WAR AND LIFE IN MARYLAND

As the time passed I became somewhat anxious over the delay in Mr.

Gouverneur's return to this country. It seems, however, that, with

neither of us knowing it, we were upon the sea at the same time. His

homeward voyage was made by the way of the Isthmus of Suez and

Marseilles. For a while it seemed difficult for either of us to realize

that we were in our own country once more, as the Civil War had turned

everything and everybody topsy turvy. When we left the country, party

animosities were pitched to a high key, but the possibility of a

gigantic civil war as a solution of political problems would have been

regarded as preposterous. On our return, however, the country was wild

with excitement over an armed struggle, the eventual magnitude of which

no one had yet dreamed of. Newly equipped regiments were constantly

passing in our vicinity for the seat of war, the national ensign and

other emblems of loyalty were displayed on every hand and a martial

spirit pervaded the very atmosphere. The war was the one important topic

of conversation at homes, in the streets and in places of business. The

passions of the people were so thoroughly aroused that they were

frequently expressed in severe denunciation of any who presumed to

entertain conservative views of the situation of affairs and who still

hoped for conciliation and peace. Suspicions were often created by

trivial but well-intended acts or remarks that were susceptible of a

double construction, and loyal sentiment was often so pronounced in its

denunciation of the South that no word or remark could be tolerated

that by any possibility could be construed as a criticism of the

administration, a disapproval of the war or of any detail relating to

its conduct. For example, not long after our return from China, while

Mr. Gouverneur and I were visiting my sister, Mrs. Eames, in Washington,

we were watching one day a newly equipped regiment from Vermont while

passing her residence _en route_ for the seat of war, when Mr. Eames

remarked, "Gouverneur, isn't that a fine regiment?" My husband, who then

and always thereafter was thoroughly loyal to the cause of the Union,

but whose military training had made him familiar with the precise

tactics and evolutions of regular troops, replied: "They need training,"

when Mr. Eames, with much warmth of feeling, exclaimed: "You are a

secessionist, sir!"

That, however, represented but a mild state of feeling compared with

that sometimes entertained between those who were loyal to the Union and

others who sympathized with the South. I recall one conspicuous instance

where such antagonistic views resulted in personal animosity that

severed tender personal relations of long standing. When I left the

country a lifelong intimacy had existed between Mrs. Charles Vanden

Heuvel, a granddaughter of Robert Morris, the great financier of the

Revolution, and Mrs. George Gibbs, granddaughter of the Connecticut

statesman, Oliver Wolcott; but after the outbreak of the war these two

elderly women differed so radically in their views concerning the

conflict that, for a period, their personal relations were severed. The

spirit of toleration was so utterly lacking in both the North and the

South that even those allied by ties of blood were estranged, and a

spirit of bitter resentment and crimination everywhere prevailed. This

state of feeling, under the circumstances, was doubtless inevitable, but

it emphasized better than almost anything else, except bloodshed itself,

the truth of General Sherman's declaration that "War is Hell!"

The animosities engendered by the war ruptured family ties and familiar

associations in Maryland much more completely than in the North. One of

the Needwood families was that of Outerbridge Horsey, who was a

pronounced Southern sympathizer, while not far away at Mount O'Donnell,

a superb old estate, lived General Columbus O'Donnell, who ardently

espoused the cause of the Union. Mr. Horsey had a son born just after a

Southern victory whom he named Robert Victor Lee; but later, after a

Confederate defeat, General O'Donnell suggested that the name be changed

to Robert "Skedaddle" Lee, whereupon Mr. Horsey retorted that he thought

the name of a grandchild of General O'Donnell might appropriately be

changed to George "Retreat" McClellan. Of Charles Oliver O'Donnell, one

of the General's sons, I retain the pleasantest memories. He was a

gentleman of attractive personality and a genial nature. His first wife

was Lucinia de Sodré, daughter of Luis Pereira de Sodré, who at the time

of his daughter's marriage was the Brazilian Minister in Washington. Mr.

O'Donnell's second wife was Miss Helen Sophia Carroll of Baltimore.

After remaining a few months in New York and a shorter period in

Washington, we visited Mr. Gouverneur's father, who was still living at

Needwood in Maryland. Here we found a radical change of scene, for we

were now in close proximity to the seat of war. On our journey southward

we were somewhat delayed by the rumor that General Lee was about to

enter Maryland, rendering it necessary for us to procure passes, which

was accomplished through the courtesy of General Edward Shriver, a

native of Frederick, who held at the time an important official position

in Baltimore. We had thought when we arrived in New York that public

feeling ran high, but it was mild compared with our observations and

experiences in Maryland, and we never dared to predict what a day would

bring forth. Mr. Gouverneur's father was a pronounced Northern man, but

his wife's relatives, as well as most of his neighbors, sympathized with

the South. Soon after the outbreak of the war, while we were yet in

China, and at the period when Maryland was wavering between the North

and South, and to anxious spectators secession seemed almost inevitable,

my father-in-law and ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas left one morning on a

hurried trip to Frederick, where the State Legislature was convened in

special session, instead of at the State Capitol in Annapolis, which was

then occupied by Union troops. A report had reached them that the

legislature would probably declare for secession and call a convention

to take into consideration an ordinance for the accomplishment of that

end, and they desired to exert whatever influence they could command to

retain the State in the Union. The national administration, however, was

equally alert, and a measure much more effective, in this instance, than

moral suasion was employed to defeat the adherents of the Southern

cause. General John A. Dix arrested ten members-elect of the State

Legislature, the mayor of Baltimore, a congressman and two editors;

while in Frederick, General Nathaniel P. Banks took into custody nine

other members who, under the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus,

were confined for a time either in Fort Lafayette in New York or in Fort

Warren in Boston. I well remember that one of these was Severn Teackle

Wallis of Baltimore, a lawyer of exceptional prominence and ability and

a universal favorite in society.

Shortly before the battle of Gettysburg, when Frederick County was

occupied by the Union troops, many of the officers dined at Needwood. A

little later, although over forty miles away, we knew that a great

battle was in progress, as we distinctly heard the steady firing of

heavy artillery. The news of the great Union victory finally reached us

and I listened in silent sympathy to the rejoicing of the Unionists and

heard the lamentations of the sympathizers with the Southern cause.

After the battle of Gettysburg, the disorganized Southern army came

straggling along through Maryland, their objective point being Harper's

Ferry; while General George G. Meade with his troops was on South

Mountain, within sight of the former locality. During the night there

arose one of the most violent storms I have ever known, and we naturally

supposed that it would render the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, which

meet at Harper's Ferry, absolutely impassable, as all bridges had, of

course, been destroyed. The storm raged with such fury that we were

actually afraid to go to bed. Mr. Gouverneur and I were elated because

we believed it meant the end of hostilities and the Union restored; for

in our opinion, it seemed impossible for human beings to successfully

contend with the elements and at the same time to live under the fire of

Meade's guns. It would therefore be difficult to describe our surprise

when we learned the next morning that Lee's troops had safely crossed

the Potomac and were again on the soil of Virginia.

Several days later Mr. Gouverneur and I were driving on the national

turnpike, commonly called the Hagerstown pike, when we encountered the

Union army. Our destination was the country seat of ex-Governor Philip

F. Thomas, two miles from Frederick and within the shadow of Catoctin

mountain, which we were contemplating as a future home. Our travel was

not impeded except by an occasional inquiry in regard to our political

sentiments, as the Northern army was prone to believe that every

sojourner in Maryland at this time was an adherent of the South. This

national turnpike, which has been and still is a well-traveled

thoroughfare, was constructed at a cost of several million dollars and

was generally regarded as an extravagance of John Adams' administration.

In speaking of this road, which begins at Georgetown, D.C., and crosses

the mountains into Kentucky, Henry Clay once remarked that no one need

go abroad for scenery after viewing "the Valley of the Shenandoah,

Harper's Ferry, and the still more beautiful Middletown valley."

We were so favorably impressed by the Thomas place that we decided to

purchase it and in a short time found ourselves permanent residents of

Frederick County, in Maryland. We changed the name from "Waverley" to

"_Po-ne-sang_," which was the name of a Chinese Mission and meant "a

small hill." After seeing the children and myself comfortably

established in our new home, Mr. Gouverneur felt that he was now free to

give his services to the country for which he had so valiantly fought

during the Mexican War. As he was still in exceedingly delicate health,

active service in the field with all the exposures of camp life was

entirely out of the question but, desirous of rendering such services as

he could, he wrote the following letter to Major General Henry W.

Halleck, Commander in Chief of our Army:--

On my return from China, where I held the office of Consul

of the U.S., in the early part of May last I had the honor,

through the Honorable Secretary of State, to offer my

services to the President of the United States in any

capacity in which my military or other experience might

enable me to serve my country in its present hour of peril.

To my communication to this effect I have received no reply.

I have the honour now to tender to you my services on your

staff in some position wherein they may prove most

available.

The record of my former services in Mexico is on the files

of the War Department, and I am without vanity led to

believe that the historical associations which place my name

in connection with that of James Monroe may give a prestige

in our cause not wholly valueless. In conclusion I beg to

add that the subject of compensation with me would be a

matter of indifference.

General Halleck replied as follows:--

Washington, July 30, 1863.

Samuel L. Gouverneur Jr.

New York.

Sir,

The law authorizing the appointment of additional aides has

been repealed. Moreover, I have long since refused to

nominate except for distinguished or meritorious military

services. It is true that some have been put upon my staff

without having rendered any service at all, but they were

not nominated by me, and I do not recognize their

appointment as legal.

Yours &c.,

H. W. HALLECK,

Major General Commanding.

General Halleck seemed to be ignorant of the fact that the chief

requisite for serving upon his staff was not wanting in the case of my

husband, who, as before stated, was brevetted for gallantry and

meritorious conduct at the battles of Contreras and Churubusco in the

Mexican War.

Halleck's reply was a bitter disappointment to Mr. Gouverneur but a

tremendous relief to me, as I knew he was not in the condition of health

to serve even as a staff-officer. When he originally broached the

subject to me I did not try to dissuade him, as I felt that I had no

moral right to interfere with his ideas of duty to his country. The

Halleck letter, therefore, brought about a state of affairs in our

household much more satisfactory than my most sanguine anticipations.

Mr. Gouverneur, having done his full duty, gave up his idea of

re-entering the Army and, in a spirit of contentment, began to take up

life in our new home.

During the month of August, 1863, we had just gotten fairly settled

when the Confederate guerrilla chieftain, John S. Mosby, appeared at our

door with his band of marauders. Their visit was brief and we were

spared the usual depredations--why, we knew not, unless it were owing to

the fact that Mr. Gouverneur's nephew, James Monroe Heiskell, a mere boy

of sixteen, who ran away from home and swam across the Potomac to join

Mosby's band, possibly accompanied him. Mosby's men in the East and

Morgan's rangers in the West represented a species of ignoble warfare.

In reality they did not benefit the cause which they professed to serve,

but merely molested inoffensive farmers by carrying off their stock and

thus depriving them of their means of livelihood. In recent years I

discussed with a Confederate officer, the late General Beverly

Robertson, Mosby's mode of warfare, and he surprised but gratified me

very much by saying that in his opinion, it was a great injury to the

Southern cause. It seems hardly just that, during President Grant's

administration and later, official positions should have been bestowed

upon Mosby while the interests of other Confederate officers who had

fought a fair and honorable fight and had battled, moreover, for their

country during the Mexican War, should have been neglected.

These war experiences furnished strenuous days for us in our new home

and we lived in a state of constant excitement. I well recall the first

morning it was announced to us by one of the colored servants, while we

were at the breakfast table, that "the rebels were coming," and the

feeling of timidity that nearly overpowered me. Very soon some troops

under the command of General Bradley T. Johnson, a native of Frederick,

marched upon our lawn and encamped all around us. General Johnson

immediately came to our door and, although I was in anything but a

comfortable frame of mind, I summoned all my courage and met him at the

threshold. In a very courtly manner--too much so, in fact, to be

expected in time of war--he remarked, "You are a stranger here, madam."

I responded: "My life here has been short; my name is Gouverneur." He at

once said: "I suppose you are a relative of Mr. Gouverneur of the

Maryland Tract." I admitted the fact although I was not quite sure it

was discreet to do so, as the Union sentiments of my father-in-law were

generally well known, and I was talking to a Confederate General. He and

his officers spent some time with us and we found them exceedingly

friendly, and thus, at least for a time, the terrors of war were

averted. Many years later I met General Johnson in my own drawing-room

when he and his wife came from Baltimore to attend the wedding of my

daughter, Ruth Monroe, to his cousin, Doctor William Crawford Johnson,

of Frederick. We naturally discussed our first meeting when he was

greeted with less cordiality than he received during his present visit.

Upon learning of the approach of the Confederates, we made rapid

preparations for their advent. As we had learned from our neighbors that

the South stood in great need of horses and we owned a number of them of

more than usual value, Mr. Gouverneur seized upon an ingenious plan for

concealing them. Under our house was a fine cellar which, unfortunately,

the horses refused to enter until the steps leading into it were

removed. When this had been done, they were led down one by one into a

darkened room, and bags were securely tied over their eyes to prevent

them from neighing. During the visit of the Confederates, which seemed

to us interminably long, owing to our anxiety about the horses, General

Johnson sat directly over their hiding place; but they behaved like

well-bred beasts and never uttered a sound. I had serious misgivings,

however, when I saw a mounted officer, riding around the house to make a

survey of the premises, stop at the upturned steps. For a moment I

thought all was over and my feelings were akin to those, I fancy, of a

person secreting stolen goods; but the investigation happily went no

further and he rode on.

When the active preparations for hiding the horses were in progress my

children were running hither and thither and watching the process with

much interest and excitement. I called them to me and in my sternest

tones told them of the near approach of the soldiers and gave them to

understand that if they said "horse" or "rebel devil" in their presence

I should punish them severely. They had been taught by the negroes on

the place to call the Southerners "rebel devils," and I feared for the

result if they allowed their childish tongues to wag too freely. A few

hours later I spoke to one of the little girls upon some topic entirely

foreign to our original subject, but she was so overawed by my threat

and the presence of the troops that she seemed afraid to utter a word.

After a little encouragement, however, she crept up to my side and

whispered: "Mamma, they have taken all of our saddles!" General Johnson

was still sitting on our porch, when a soldier approached and asked for

an ax. One was immediately procured, when the General, asking the man's

name, said: "That ax is to be returned." This order struck me as

somewhat ludicrous when a little later I learned that the ax was to be

used in demolishing all of our fences! This precaution was deemed

important in order to facilitate, if necessary, a more speedy retreat.

As night approached we were asked if a guard would be acceptable, and we

were only too glad to avail ourselves of such protection. As we were

closing the house for the night, after our strenuous day, one of the

soldiers on guard duty remarked to me, in a friendly voice: "Now I am

going to bed!" In my astonishment I said: "Where?" The smiling response

was: "On the porch, to be sure!" In this state of unrest there was no

repose for us that night and we did not even attempt to undress, as we

knew not what an hour might bring forth. Just before dawn there was a

knock upon the front door and, upon opening it, I found facing me a

guard who, without any apology, said: "I left my boots inside!" Before I

had locked the front door again and returned to my room, the Southerners

had "folded up their tents like the Arabs and as silently stolen away."

Only a short period had elapsed when several mounted officers dashed up

our driveway and anxiously inquired: "Where are the guards?" They gave

me only time enough to say, "They have gone," when they rode rapidly

away. We came to the conclusion that they were young men visiting their

relatives and friends in Frederick and that the retreat was so sudden

that no word of warning could be sent them.

We realized the next day that the hasty departure of the Confederates

was timely, as the Union Army was encamped all around us. Some of the

officers came to see us and Mr. Gouverneur invited them to dine. This

was a period of sudden transitions, for that night the Union Army

retreated and the next day the Confederates were with us again, dining

upon the remnants of the meal left by their adversaries. It was all we

had to give them, as all our colored servants, having been told that

they would be captured and taken further South, had fled upon hearing of

the second visit of the Confederates. This was naturally a trying

experience for me, as no servant except a Chinese maid was left upon the

place and I was in a strange locality. But luckily I found the last set

of officers pleasant and congenial and ready to make due allowance for

all household deficiencies. Several of them were natives of Loudoun

County, Virginia, and were familiar with our name, as they had lived

near Oak Hill, the estate of Mr. Gouverneur's grandfather, where my

husband had passed a portion of his early life. We soon learned that

country life during war times without satisfactory servants was much

more than either Mr. Gouverneur or I had sufficient courage or strength

to bear. This state of affairs resulted in my husband going to New York,

where he secured a family of Irish immigrants consisting of a woman and

three men. The relative positions of the two armies in our general

vicinity had meanwhile shifted several times and we never knew from day

to day whether we were destined to greet friend or foe.

On the particular morning of which I am about to speak, the Confederates

were again with us. They were apparently unacquainted with the

topography of the surrounding country and were naturally desirous of

securing such information as should enable them, in case of necessity,

to effect a speedy and secure retreat. We received an early call from

several of their officers who inquired the way to the "Alms House Road."

We had been so busily engaged in trying to settle ourselves down under

such adverse circumstances that we knew actually nothing of the

surrounding country; and, when Mr. Gouverneur informed our visitors of

this fact, they looked at one another in such a decidedly incredulous

way as to convince us that they thought we were withholding information.

My husband finally sent for John Demsey, one of our Irish immigrants,

who had driven considerably around the adjacent country, and one of the

officers in a rather offensive manner renewed his query about the "Alms

House Road." To our chagrin, John's answer was, "I do not know;" and Mr.

Gouverneur, realizing that affairs were assuming a rather serious

aspect, said: "John, you do know; tell the officer at once." With true

Irish perspicacity he exclaimed: "Oh, sir, you mean the 'Poor House

road'--I know that;" and forthwith gave the desired information. In

anything but pleasant tones the Irish youth was told by the officers to

accompany them as guide, and the order was obeyed with both fear and

alacrity. Mr. Gouverneur then exacted from the commanding officer his

word of honor that the man be permitted to return, and remarked at the

same time, in an ironical manner, that if they continued to tear down

our fences and commit other depredations we should all of us know the

location of the Alms House.

At a much later period General Jubal A. Early's Army passed our door _en

route_, as at least he hoped, for Washington. General John B. Gordon

sent an orderly to our house with his compliments to ask for a map of

Frederick County, which we were unable to supply. All through the day

the Southern troops continued to march by, until, towards sunset, the

rear of the last column halted in front of our place. As we knew that a

battle was imminent, we awaited the result with beating hearts and

anxious hopes. When the firing of cannon began we know that the battle

of the Monocacy had begun and were truly grateful that it was four miles

away! The battle was short and decisive and the Southern Army was

repulsed. The wounded soldiers were conveyed to Frederick, where

hospitals were improvised, and the dead were laid to rest in Mount

Olivet Cemetery, on the outskirts of the city. Both Northern and

Southern sympathizers became skilled nurses and their gentle

ministrations resulted in several instances in romantic attachments.

Among the young physicians left in Frederick to attend the wounded

soldiers was Doctor Robert S. Weir, who subsequently became

distinguished as a surgeon in New York City. While stationed at the

hospital in Frederick, he met a daughter of Robert G. McPherson, whom at

the conclusion of the war he married. Mrs. McPherson was Miss Milicent

Washington, who was a direct descendant of Colonel Samuel Washington, a

younger brother of George Washington, and whose five wives are all

interred in the graveyard at the old family home, Harewood, in Jefferson

County, Virginia. Mrs. McPherson, one of whose ancestors was Miss Ann

Steptoe, who married Willoughby Allerton, was also a niece of "Dolly"

Madison.

Prior to the battle of the Monocacy I discovered that our house was

again surrounded by quite a number of Northern soldiers. This was an

usual occurrence, to be sure, but this time they were making such a

careful scrutiny of the premises that I was led to inquire of one of

them what object they had in view. To my utter dismay I was informed

that as our house was upon a hill they had selected it as "a position,"

and that our safest place was in the cellar. We soon realized the wisdom

of this retreat as shells began to fly around us from several directions

and with much rapidity. We spent the greater part of the day

underground, wondering all the while how long our involuntary

imprisonment would last, as these dark and dismal quarters were

naturally a great restraint upon the children and exceedingly depressing

to Mr. Gouverneur and myself.

Although Northern in our sentiments, we sometimes preferred the visits

of the Confederates to those of their adversaries, owing to the greater

consideration which we received from them. Upon the arrival of our own

soldiers, their first act was to search the house from garret to cellar.

At first I indignantly inquired their object and was curtly informed

that they were searching for "concealed rebels." I gradually tolerated

this mode of procedure until one morning when we were routed up at five

o'clock, and then I protested. The Union soldiers took it for granted

that, owing to the locality of our home, we were Southern sympathizers,

and accordingly at times seemed to do everything in their power to make

us uncomfortable. During those trying days I frequently recalled the

wise saying of Marechal Villars, "Defend me from my friends, I can

defend myself from my enemies." We noticed, however, a great difference

in the conduct of the various detachments of the Union Army with which

we came in contact. We always greeted the appearance of the 6th Army

Corps with much enthusiasm. It was composed of stalwart and sturdy

veterans of the regular Army; and I trust its survivors will accept my

humble tribute of respect and esteem. Very early in the morning of the

day following the departure of some members of this corps from

_Po-ne-sang_ a private appeared at one of our rear doors and inquired

when the troops had departed. He had been indulging in a sound sleep

under one of the broken fences and was wholly unconscious that his

comrades had moved away. He hesitated for some minutes as to the course

he should pursue and then hurried off toward Hagerstown. We subsequently

learned that he was shot at a point not far distant and were impressed

anew by the bloody horrors attending our Civil War.

General David Hunter made frequent visits to Frederick and his approach

was regarded with terror by those in sympathy with the Southern cause.

It was he who performed the unpleasant duty of sending persons suspected

of disloyalty further South, thereby often separating families. Many of

his victims were elderly people and it is difficult for me at this late

day to describe the amount of distress these orders occasioned. I

remember one case particularly well, that of Dr. John Thomas McGill, a

practicing physician who, together with his wife, was ordered to proceed

immediately. Mrs. McGill was in very delicate health and the fright

caused by such summary proceedings, which by the way were not carried

out, tremendous Union influences having been brought to bear, resulted

in death. Many years after the war I attended a supper party at the home

of Judge and Mrs. John Ritchie, when the guests drifted into war

reminiscences. Dr. McGill was present and, as the conversation

progressed, he was so overcome by his emotion that an apoplectic stroke

was feared.

During the numerous visits of the Confederate army to Frederick County,

General "Joe" Johnston became a great favorite and for some time made

his headquarters in the city of Frederick. I learned from Colonel

William Richardson, a beloved citizen of that place, that the General

was especially solicitous concerning the welfare of the men under his

command. One day, for example, he found one of his soldiers eating raw

persimmons and at once reproved him for partaking of such unsuitable

food. The soldier explained that he was adapting his stomach to the

character of his rations. Although we did not see Stonewall Jackson's

troops pass on their march to Frederick, we were aware of their presence

there. Barbara Frietchie, whom Whittier has immortalized, lived in a

small house on West Patrick Street, adjoining Carroll Creek, but whether

she ever waved a Union flag as Stonewall Jackson's men were passing is a

question concerning which opinions differ. Southern sympathizers deny

it, while persons of Northern sentiments living in Frederick assert that

the verses of the Quaker poet represent the truth. At any rate, a woman

with such a name "lived and moved and had her being" in that city. She

was interred in the burying ground of the German Reformed Church, and

frequently pilgrimages are made to her grave, over which floats a Union

flag not far from where

The clustered spires of Frederick stand

Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

I may state, in passing, that it was during the Civil War that the word

"shoddy" was coined. It was originally used to designate a class of

inferior goods intended for use in the army from the sale of which many

fortunes were made. Later the word was employed to designate those who

used such goods; and thus, by extension, one heard not only of "shoddy

people," but also of "shoddy parties," "shoddy clothes," and so on.

We heartily shared in the rejoicings of the North when General Lee

surrendered. In our country home we had lived in an actual condition of

camp life so long that at its conclusion I remarked to my husband in a

jocular vein that I was prepared for a life with the Comanches! We

restored our damaged fences, dug up our silver which had been buried

many months under a tree in the garden, and Mr. Gouverneur began to turn

his attention to agriculture. Our farm was among the finest in Frederick

County, which is usually regarded as one of the garden spots of the

country. Our social relations had been entirely suspended, as the

distractions attending the war had kept us so actively employed; but

that was now a past episode and we began making pleasant acquaintances

from Frederick and the surrounding country. Among our first visitors

were Judge and Mrs. William P. Maulsby; Richard M. Potts and his

brother, George Potts; Mr. and Mrs. Charles E. Trail; the Rev. Dr. and

Mrs. George Diehl and their daughter Marie, who in subsequent years

endeared herself to the residents of Frederick; Mrs. John McPherson and

her daughter, Mrs. Worthington Ross; Dr. and Mrs. Fairfax Schley; Judge

and Mrs. John Ritchie; Mr. and Mrs. Jacob M. Kunkel; and the Rev.

Marmaduke Dillon-Lee, an Englishman who had served in the British Army

and at this time was the rector of All Saints Episcopal Church in

Frederick. He had been selected for this pulpit on account of his

neutral political views and we found in him a congenial acquaintance. He

remained in Frederick, however, for only a short period after the war

and was succeeded by the deservedly beloved Rev. Dr. Osborne Ingle, who,

after a pastorate of nearly half a century, recently passed to his

reward. I can not pass this Godly man by without an encomium to his

memory. He came to Frederick as a very young man and throughout his long

rectorship he was truly a leader of his flock and, like the "Good

Shepherd of Old," the sheep knew him and loved him.

It did not take long for Mr. Gouverneur and me to discover that neither

of us was adapted to a country life under the conditions prevailing at

the close of the War--so very different from those existing in that

locality at a later period. He knew nothing of practical farming and I

knew nothing of practical cooking. Although I was never entirely without

domestic service, as I always had with me the Chinese maid whom I had

brought from the East, we were not fitted, at the best, for such a life.

The result was that after one winter's experience we made _Po-ne-sang_

only our summer home. During the trials and tribulations of that distant

winter I often recalled a remark which Lord Chesterfield is said to have

made to several persons whom he disliked: "I wish you were married and

settled in the country." It has even been asserted that, in his

absentmindedness and excitement incident to encountering an infuriated

cow, he addressed the beast with the same words. This was a favorite

anecdote of General Scott, and it appealed to me then as well as now, as

I regard country life a forlorn fate for all women excepting possibly

those who are endowed with large wealth with which to gratify every

passing whim.

The primitive life we led at _Po-ne-sang_ was full of annoyances and

discouragements. For example, we had no running water in our house and

were supposed to supply ourselves from a cistern in the yard which had

contracted the bad habit of running dry and for inconvenient periods

remaining so. We were therefore compelled to carry all our water from a

neighbor's spring at least a quarter of a mile away. We tried to remedy

this defect by boring an artesian well, but all our attempts were

unsuccessful. Country life was distasteful to cooks as they preferred to

live in a city where they could make and mingle with friends, and I soon

learned that if I wanted to keep a servant I must hire one who had a

baby, and that is just what I did. Although country life was distasteful

to her, too, she took her dose of medicine because she could not help

herself as no one else would employ her. Often these babies were a

source of great care to me, as their mothers would neglect

them--sometimes from ignorance but more frequently from sheer

indifference. I remember one cook whose baby, owing to the lack of

proper attention, was actually in danger of starving to death. She kept

it in a wooden box under a tree in the garden, and I was obliged at

stated intervals to see that the child was fed.

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, _àpropos_ 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.