E. KINGMAN.
Ever will I remember with delight
Strawberry Knoll; not for the berries red,
As, ere my time, the vines were out of bed,
And gone; but many a day and many a night
Have given me argument to love it well,
Whether in Summer, 'neath its perfumed shade,
Whether by moonlight's magic wand arrayed,
Or when in Winter's lap the rose leaves fell,
For pleasant faces ever there were found,
For genial welcome ever met me there,
And thou, my friend, when thought went smiling round,
Madest her calm look, reflecting thine, more fair.
Those who have known thee as a Statesman, know
Thy noon-day: I have felt thy great heart's sunset glow!
Mr. Kingman married Miss Cordelia Ewell of Virginia, a relative of General Richard S. Ewell of the Confederate Army. She was in some respects a remarkable character, a "dyed-in-the-wool" Southerner and a woman of unusual personal charm and ability. In dress, manner and general appearance she presented a fitting reminder of the grande dame of long ago. Her style of dress reminded one of the Quaker school. Her gray gown with a white kerchief crossed neatly upon her breast and her gray hair with puffs clustered around her ears, together with her quaint manner of courtesying as she greeted her guests, suggested the familiar setting of an old-fashioned picture. She was an accomplished performer upon the harp as well as an authority upon old English literature. In all the years I knew her I never heard of her leaving her house. She had no children and her constant companion was a venerable parrot.
John Savage, familiarly known as "Jack" Savage, was an intimate friend of the Kingmans and also a frequent guest of ours. He was an Irish patriot of 1848 and was remarkable for his versatility. He had a fine voice, and I remember seeing him on one occasion hold his audience spell-bound while singing "The Temptation of St. Anthony." He was an accomplished journalist and the author of several books, one of which, "The Modern Revolutionary History and Literature of Ireland," has been pronounced the best work extant "on the last great revolutionary era of the Irish race."
After the Civil War I often met at Mr. Kingman's house General Benjamin F. Butler, whose withering gift of sarcasm is still remembered. Simon Cameron, Lincoln's first Secretary of War, was also a frequent visitor there. He was an unusually genial and cordial gentleman, and some years later Mr. Kingman and my husband, upon his urgent invitation, visited him at his handsome country place, Lochiel, in Pennsylvania. His fine graperies made such a vivid impression upon my husband that his description of them almost enabled me to see the luscious fruit itself before me.
My old friends, Purser Horatio Bridge, U.S.N., and his wife, lived on the corner of K and Fourteenth Streets at a hotel then known as the Rugby House. Mrs. Bridge was a sister of the famous beauty, Miss Emily Marshall, who married Harrison Gray Otis of Boston. Mr. Bridge, while on the active list, had been stationed for a time in Washington and, finding the life congenial and attractive, returned here after his retirement and with his wife made his home at the Rugby House. While there the hotel was offered for sale and was bought by Mr. Bridge, who enlarged it and changed its name to The Hamilton, in compliment to Mrs. Hamilton Holly, an intimate friend of Mrs. Bridge and the daughter of Alexander Hamilton. Mrs. Holly, my old and cherished friend, lived in a picturesque cottage on I Street, on the site of the present Russian embassy, where so many years later the wife and daughter of Benjamin F. Tracy, Harrison's Secretary of the Navy, lost their lives in a fire that destroyed the house. Among the attractions of this home was a remarkable collection of Hamilton relics which subsequent to Mrs. Holly's death was sold at public auction. The sale, however, did not attract any particular attention, as the craze for antiques had not yet developed and the souvenir fiend was then unknown.
It was while I was living on Twelfth Street that I first met Miss Margaret Edes, so well known in after years to Washingtonians. She was visiting her relatives, the Donoho family, which lived in my immediate vicinity. Her host's father was connected with The National Intelligencer, and the son, Thomas Seaton Donoho, was named after William Winston Seaton, one of its editors. Thomas Seaton Donoho was a truly interesting character. He was decidedly romantic in his ideas and many incidents of his life were curiously associated with the ivy vine. He planted a sprig of it in front of his three-story house, which was built very much upon the plan of every other dwelling in the neighborhood, and called his abode "Ivy Hall"; while his property in the vicinity of Washington he named "Ivy City," a locality so well known to-day by the same name to the sporting fraternity. His book of poems, published in Washington in 1860, is entitled "Ivy-wall"; and, to cap the climax, when a girl was born into the Donoho family she was baptized in mid-ocean as "Atlantic May Ivy." In addition to his poems, he published, in 1850, a drama in three acts, entitled, "Goldsmith of Padua," and two years later "Oliver Cromwell," a tragedy in five acts.
Soon after my marriage, Mr. Gouverneur acted as one of the pallbearers at the funeral of his early friend, Gales Seaton, the son of William Winston Seaton, and a most accomplished man of affairs. In those days honorary pallbearers were unknown and the coffin was borne to the grave by those with whom the deceased had been most intimately associated. The Seatons owned a family vault, and the body was carried down into it by Mr. Seaton's old friends. After the funeral I heard Mr. Gouverneur speak of observing a coffin which held the remains of Mrs. Francis Schroeder, who was Miss Caroline Seaton, and whose husband, the father of Rear Admiral Seaton Schroeder, U.S.N., was at one time U.S. Minister to Sweden and Norway. Seaton Munroe, a nephew of Gales Seaton, was prominent in Washington society. He never married and many persons regarded him as the Ward McAllister of the Capital. When Colonel Sanford C. Kellogg, U.S.A., then military attaché of the U.S. Embassy in Paris, heard of Munroe's death, he wrote to a mutual friend: "I do not believe the man lives who has done more for the happiness and welfare of others than Seaton Munroe." He was one of the prominent founders of the Metropolitan Club, which commenced its career in the old Morris house on the corner of Vermont Avenue and H Street; and later, when it moved to the Graham residence on the corner of Fifteenth and H Streets, he continued to be one of its most popular and influential members.
In April, 1858, occurred the famous Gwin ball, so readily recalled by old Washingtonians. It was a fancy-dress affair, and it was the intention of Senator and Mrs. William McKendree Gwin of California that it should be the most brilliant of its kind that the National Capital had ever known. Of course Mr. Gouverneur and I did not attend, owing to my deep mourning, but I shall always remember the pleasure and amusement we derived in dressing Mr. Kingman for the occasion. We decked him out in the old court dress which Mr. Gouverneur's grandfather, James Monroe, wore during his diplomatic mission in France. As luck would have it the suit fitted him perfectly, and the next day it was quite as gratifying to us as to Mr. Kingman to hear that the costume attracted marked attention.
The ball was rightly adjudged a brilliant success. Among the guests was President Buchanan, though not, of course, in fancy dress. Senator Gwin represented Louis Quatorze; Ben Perley Poore, "Major Jack Downing"; Lord Napier, George Hammond—the first British Minister to the United States; Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, Aurora; Mrs. Jefferson Davis, Madame de Staël; and so on down the list. It is probable that the wife of Senator Clement C. Clay, of Alabama, who represented Mrs. Partington, attracted more attention and afforded more amusement than any other guest. Washington had fairly teemed with her brilliant repartee and other bright sayings, and upon this occasion she was, if possible, more than ever in her element. She had a witty encounter with the President and a familiar home-thrust for all whom she encountered. Many of the public characters present, when lashed by her sparkling humor, were either unable or unwilling to respond. She was accompanied by "Ike," Mrs. Partington's son, impersonated by a clever youth of ten years, son of John M. Sandidge of Louisiana. Mr. John Von Sonntag Haviland, formerly of the U.S. Army, wrote a metrical description of this ball, and in referring to Mrs. Clay, thus expresses himself:—