Philip Barton Key
Mrs. Philip Barton Key
(elizabeth plater)
In 1814 Mr. Marbury became the first president of the Farmers and Mechanics Bank when it was organized; its cashier being Clement Smith, who, after the presidency of Thomas B. Beall, from 1817-1821, became the third president, and the only one in the history of that institution to be promoted to that office. Not many years ago, Mr. Marbury's picture, in his old-fashioned costume, was printed on the bank checks to impress the public with the antiquity of the institution.
He was a very imposing looking gentleman, as was his son, John Marbury, who was eight years old when the family moved to Georgetown. Some years ago, one of his great-grandsons heard the family talking about "Grandfather's Bourbon nose." A little later he was found standing, gazing intently at the portrait of the old gentleman, and when asked, "Why such sudden interest?" he replied, "Where is the 'burb' on his nose?"
John Marbury married and lived for some years on Gay (N) Street, near Market (33rd) Street. After his father's death, he moved to the old house on Bridge (M) Street in order to keep his mother company. He had a very large family, seven sons and six daughters. All of the daughters attended Miss English's Seminary, walking to and from school all winter wearing low-necked and short-sleeved dresses, covered only by a little cape. Not a case of poverty, I assure you, but of fashion! I was told this not long ago by a descendant, and of how they used to have to melt their gum shoes to get them on in cold weather. I think the names of a trio of their friends very amusing—Jerry Berry, Hetty Getty, and Jimmy Finney.
The house had a large garden in the rear and spacious rooms where they entertained a great deal. Not long ago, I saw a fascinating drawing of a party in Georgetown in the fifties. It represented four musicians intent upon playing a bass viol, a cello, a violin, and a flute; a few of the company standing near by with curls and puffed coiffures, and among them a tiny man, side-whiskered, so short that he barely reached the shoulders of the ladies. He must, of course, have been Prince Iturbide. There was never anyone quite like him. He was a Mexican, here in the diplomatic service, and had married Miss Alice Green, a granddaughter of Uriah Forrest.
At a party one evening at the Marbury's, a dispute arose between him and Baron Bodisco, the Russian Minister, who was also a resident of Georgetown. It ended in the prince calling the baron a liar, whereby the baron immediately knocked Prince Iturbide down. The little prince sprang onto a sofa and bounced up and down, shouting over and over again, "He knocked an Iturbide down; he knocked an Iturbide down!" as if he expected Mr. Marbury to straightway haul the baron off to be beheaded, at least. It was the last party given at the old house for many a day, as Mr. Marbury considered that they had been disgraced by their guests.
Years after, when Madame Iturbide was left a widow in Mexico, the Emperor Maximilian wished to adopt her son, to which she gave her consent, but finding later that it meant complete separation from him, she kidnapped him and escaped to America.
For two whole days after the Battle of Bull Run, the "Damn Yankees," as the Marburys called them, poured over the nearby bridge from Virginia at a dog-trot and dropped from exhaustion on the steps of this house and the pavement. Mr. Marbury ordered all of the shutters to be kept tightly closed during that dreadful time.