During the Arthur administration, Mr. Edward C. Halliday and his wife came to the National Capital to spend a winter. I had known him many years before when he visited the widow of General Alexander Macomb in her home on the corner of I and Seventeenth Streets, where the Farragut apartment house now stands. He was of a Scotch family which originally settled in New York, and his father for some years was President of the St. Andrews Society of that city. After residing several months in Washington Mr. Halliday built several houses opposite the British Embassy on N Street, the largest of which he reserved for his own residence. It was here that Mr. and Mrs. Halliday entertained with such true Scotch hospitality. Their Friday evenings were bright spots on the social horizon, especially for the young people, as dancing was one of their special features. Just before the close of her second social season Mrs. Halliday gave a fancy-dress ball, which was a happy inspiration, varying as it did the monotony of germans, receptions and teas. On this occasion the minuet was danced by the younger guests dressed in Louis XIV. costumes.
In the spring of 1880 the long and painful illness of my husband closed in death. He had been handicapped by years of ill health, and, although he had the intellectual power, the ability, the wings to spread, there was, alas, no surrounding air to bear them up! The ambition was there and the intense desire, but strength was lacking and he bore his affliction with sublime fortitude. For a while after his departure I felt akin to a ship lost at sea; my moorings were nowhere within sight. I had leaned on him through so many years of married life, constantly sustained by his high code of integrity and honor, that his death was indeed a bereavement too terrible for words to express. I care to say no more.
The summer of the same year, accompanied by my daughters, I sought the quietude of the mountains of Virginia. Tarrying in the same house with me was Mrs. John Griffith Worthington of Georgetown, D.C., with whom I formed a lasting friendship. The Worthington family resided in the District long before it became the seat of government and owned extensive property. Even in extreme old age Mrs. Worthington was one of the most truly beautiful women I have ever seen. She was Miss Elizabeth Phillips of Dayton, Ohio, and a lineal descendant of President Jonathan Dickinson of Princeton University. Her daughter Eliza, Mrs. William Henry Philip, represented the same type of woman. John G. Worthington's sister married Judge William Gaston, the eminent jurist of North Carolina.
The administration of Garfield was of short duration. The tragedy which brought to a speedy close his earthly career is too well known to be dwelt upon at length. The mortal attack upon him in 1881 by the fanatic Charles J. Guiteau in the old Pennsylvania railroad station on the corner of Sixth and D Streets shocked the civilized world, and his long and painful illness at Elberon was closely watched by a sympathizing public until it closed in death. Dr. D. W. Bliss was the Garfield family physician but the most eminent specialists of the country were called into consultation. It is the first time within my memory that I ever heard of the issue of official bulletins by physicians announcing the condition of their patients. At the trial of Guiteau he was defended by his brother-in-law, George M. Scoville, while Judge John K. Porter of New York and Walter D. Davidge of the Washington bar were employed to assist in the prosecution. This trial was of such absorbing interest that men and women crowded to the City Hall, where admission was granted only by ticket. No one could possibly have seen Guiteau without a feeling akin to pity, as he displayed every indication of possessing an unbalanced mind.
The administration of President Arthur proved a source of delight to Washington society and afforded abundant demonstration, as in the cases of Jefferson, Jackson, Van Buren and Buchanan before him, that a "Mistress of the White House" in the person of a wife is not an absolute necessity. Mrs. John E. McElroy, the President's sister, spent much of her time in Washington and presided with grace over the social functions of the White House. The President himself was a gentleman of dignified and imposing presence and of great social as well as political tact. He instinctively seemed to know the proper thing to do and exactly when to do it. I was deeply touched by his thoughtfulness when my second daughter, Ruth Monroe, was married in December, 1882. Although we were still in mourning and had no personal acquaintance with the President nor other association at that time with the White House, General Arthur on that occasion sent superb flowers to my home from the conservatory of the Executive Mansion. I regarded the act as exceedingly gracious, but it was in every way characteristic of the man. The circumstances under which he succeeded to the Presidential chair were so painful and some of his former political affiliations were so distasteful to many that the early portion of his administration was attended with a certain degree of embarrassment; yet, by sheer force of character, unquestioned ability and magnificent tact he so effectively worked his way into the hearts of the people that he left the Presidential chair as highly esteemed as any of his predecessors and carried with him into retirement the applause of the people irrespective of party affiliation.
I made the acquaintance of General and Mrs. Adolphus W. Greely soon after his return from his Arctic expedition. Both he and Rear Admiral Winfield Scott Schley, U.S.N., the rescued and the rescuer, were then receiving the ovations of the public. During our early acquaintance the Greelys purchased a delightful old-fashioned house on G Street, below Pennsylvania Avenue, where they still reside surrounded by a charming group of sons and daughters. General Greely is always an object of interest wherever he goes and deservedly so, as scientific attainments, distinguished bearing and engaging manners such as his can never fail to win applause. Mrs. Greely, the bride of his youth and the companion of his maturer years, wins all hearts and holds them.
It would be both unjust and ungrateful to make no mention of Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, the mother of William R. Hearst of New York. She came to Washington an entire stranger as the wife of the late Senator George Hearst of California, but soon endeared herself to all old residents by her personal magnetism, her social tact and her philanthropic acts. Deeply in sympathy with the work of women, her benevolence in this particular field was unbounded. Her entertainments were lavish and I was often numbered among her guests. I especially recall an evening reception given by her in honor of a company of authors attending a congress in Washington. It was remarkable for the number of distinguished men and women gathered from all parts of the country, some of whom I had never met before, and among them Mark Twain, Francis Marion Crawford and William Dean Howells.
As I lay down my pen, memories of many old friends are passing before me and of their children, too. Then there are others with whom I formed ties later in life of the most enduring character. This is especially true of my old and cherished neighbors, Rear Admiral and Mrs. Francis A. Roe. With his work well done he now rests from his labors, but his widow is yet my valued friend. Still another is Rear Admiral Winfield Scott Schley, U.S. N. who, surrounded by admiring friends in Washington, lives quietly and unostentatiously and bears his laurels well; and last, but anything in the world but least, Mrs. Julian James, a representative of a distinguished New York family, the daughter of Theodorus Bailey Myers, who has made her home in Washington for many years, and is now the "Lady Bountiful" of the National Capital. Beautiful in person as well as in character, she distributes her wealth with a lavish hand, and richly deserves the words "well done."
In looking backward through the years of a long and active life I have seen varied relays of humanity, all of them acting their parts and filling their appropriate niches—great and small often standing shoulder to shoulder and engaged in the same strife. Many of them, my friends in childhood as well as old age, have long since passed into the life beyond. Vanitas Vanitatis! may be the exclamation of the moralizing cynic, but to me many of these memories are a blessed heritage, and I am grateful to the Father of All for permitting me to catch from them the inspiration to prepare these rambling notes.