_The Seminary, Washington (30th) Street and Dumbarton Avenue_
Nowadays, all to the east of here bordering on Rock Creek has been made
into a park and playground, and some attractive houses built overlooking
them.
On the southeast corner of Montgomery (28th) Street and Dumbarton
Avenue, the large brick building now used as a colored Temple of Islam
was where Henry Addison, who had been mayor, was living when he died in
1870.
This house later was the home of General Christopher Colon Augur. One
night he came out on his porch to remonstrate with a crowd of negroes
gathered on this corner and making a disturbance. He was promptly shot
by one of them.
Just east of here on Dumbarton Avenue at number 2720 is the home of the
Alsop brothers, the well-known columnists, and a new Roman Catholic
Church has been built for the colored people. There are six colored
churches in the region hereabouts: This Catholic one, three Baptist
churches, and two Methodists. Mount Zion Methodist on Greene (29th)
Street is over a hundred years old. In the nineties, there were two men
in the choir there, one an exceptional organist and the other, who had a
very fine bass voice; he later went to Paris.
From this point to Rock Creek is the district that was known as Herring
Hill, a synonym in the minds of old residents for the negro district. It
got its name from the fact that in the spring great quantities of
herring came up this far into the creek from the river, and were caught
in large numbers.
I think this account, by Mr. William A. Gordon, of some of the customs
of the negroes in the years gone by is very attractive and interesting:
Christmas was the great time for the negroes. Ordinarily, they were
not allowed in the streets after the town bell rang at nine o'clock
at night, but at Christmas this restriction was removed, and as
midnight approached, bands of them would go through the streets
singing hymns and carols before the houses of their white friends.
The next morning the leader of the band called at the house and
received a token of appreciation in the way of small coin.
On May Day there was a parade of the negro drivers; many drove
carts, drays and wagons, for on that day they had holiday, and
paraded with wagons and horses adorned with ribbons, flowers and
bright papers, the drivers wearing long white aprons, and headed by
a band. They would then go to the woods and feast, dance and sing.
At the southeast corner of Dumbarton Avenue and Greene (29th) Street,
the four little yellow houses made into one make the home of Drew
Pearson, the widely-known columnist and commentator--co-author with
Robert S. Allen of the original "Washington Merry-Go-Round."
A block west, on the southeast corner of Washington (30th) Street is a
fine old house where Mrs. James Cassin lived as a wealthy widow during
the 1850's. She was Tabitha Ann Deakins, of that old family so prominent
in the making of the town.
James Cassin had come from Ireland to the City of Baltimore when he was
about twenty years of age, on account of religious troubles, the motive
which sent so many emigrants to the new country. He then moved over to
this thriving seaport, married and settled, leaving his wife a very
young widow with three sons. One of them, John, went far from home to
live, and his mother's letters to him contain a great deal of
interesting gossip. In one she tells that Margaret McVean has gone to
Baltimore to buy her wedding dress, and, horror of horrors, has allowed
the groom, Dr. Louis Mackall, to accompany her. Of course a chaperone
was in the party, but what an indelicate thing for the groom to know
anything about the wedding clothes! She ends with, "What are the young
people coming to?" How often have we heard those same words in recent
years. Of course in those days, a bride went into deep retirement for a
week before the fateful day, not going out into the street at all, and
as for seeing the groom on the day until she met him at the altar, that
was simply unthinkable!
Margaret McVean was the daughter of the Reverend James McVean, who was
born near Johnstown, New York, in 1796. He was a graduate of Union
College in 1813, and of Princeton in 1819. It was said that he spoke
seven languages with fluency and that the chair of Greek at Princeton
was always open to him. He came to Georgetown about 1820 and married
Jane Maffitt Whann in 1828. For twenty years he was the principal of a
classical seminary for boys in Georgetown, the same one founded by Dr.
David Wiley. There a large number of young men were prepared for
college, who afterwards attained distinction in various professions or
government positions of trust and honor. He was for twenty-five years
superintendent of the Presbyterian Sabbath School. He died July 8, 1847,
and as a testimonial of respect, the Board of Common Council and
Aldermen, of which he was a member, suspended business for eight days,
and crepe was worn on the arm for thirty days.
Another of these letters of Mrs. Cassin's tells that her son, William
Deakins Cassin, has just become engaged to "that harumscarum Mittie
Tyler." She fears for their future. Mittie (Mary) Tyler was the daughter
of dear old Dr. Tyler across the street.
The mother-in-law's fears certainly did not materialize, for Mrs.
Cassin, junior, lived a long and honored life. I remember her faintly
when she was about eighty years old, with hair parted in the middle and
combed down over each ear as "coal black as a raven's wing," as the old
saying goes.
They all seemed to marry their neighbors in those days, for Sue, another
daughter of Dr. Tyler's married Granville Hyde across the street.
The Hyde's house was next door to the Cassin's on the south. One can see
that it is quite old, and it seems that it was built about 1798 by
Charles Beatty, one of our old friends of the early days of George Town.
He ran one of the ferries across the river to the Virginia shore. About
1806 he had sold the house to Nicholas Hedges; then it went to James
Belt in 1822, and to Joshua Stuart in 1832. Later, it was bought by Mr.
Thomas Hyde, one of the early merchants of Georgetown. His son, Anthony
continued to live there and was for many years secretary to Mr. W. W.
Corcoran. Anthony Hyde was very musical and was part of the orchestra
which furnished the music in Christ Church before it had an organ. Here
grew up Mr. Thomas Hyde, who was very prominent in Riggs Bank and an
early president of the Chevy Chase Club. He was a very distinguished
looking man to the day of his death.
On the northeast corner of Washington (30th) and Gay (N) Streets is
where tradition says Ninian Beall built his hunting cabin when he landed
here. That could be borne out by the fact that a very fine spring of
water was on that property. Many, many years later the family of Judge
Dunlop at 3014 N Street used to send for pitchers of water from that
spring, as they had an inherited right to do so.
The long, red building there, now the Colonial Apartments, is still
spoken of as The Seminary. It was there that Miss Lydia English
conducted her fashionable school for young ladies for many years before
the Civil War. This was the school to which Andrew Johnson, while
senator from Tennessee, sent his daughter. Years after, when he was
being criticized for his defense of Roman Catholics, his enemies brought
against him the fact that he had sent his daughter to a "convent" in
Georgetown. They had confused the Visitation Convent with Miss English's
Seminary. It is said that the roster of the patrons of this school in
those _ante-bellum_ days included the names of the most famous men in
the country.
Among those names was that of Senator Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri,
nicknamed "Old Bullion," on account of his opposition to paper currency.
He was one of the supporters of President Andrew Jackson in his war on
the United States Bank. One of the pupils at the Seminary was his
daughter, Jessie Benton, who afterwards became the wife of General C.
Fremont, known as "The Pathfinder of the Rocky Mountains."
[Illustration: MISS LYDIA ENGLISH]
Miss English had large means of her own, which enabled her to keep her
school going in spite of "ups and downs." But, when in need of advice,
she would always turn to her near neighbor, James Cassin.
At one time she had nine teachers besides herself. In 1835 she had 130
pupils. It is said she was a stern headmistress, but she stood for all
that was fine, and meant a great deal to Georgetown.
There is a story told of old "Aunt Abby," whose business it was to sit
behind the parlor door whenever the young ladies had gentlemen callers,
and how reassuring was the sound of her deep snores. Another story goes
that the young bloods of Georgetown used to gather on the opposite
corner where there was a pump and pretend to be getting a drink of
water, while they were really serenading the hidden charmers, and that
sometimes billet-doux and sweetmeats were drawn up in baskets
unbeknownst to the "powers that were."
In 1859, Miss Harrover took over the school. The catalogue for that year
calls it the Georgetown Female Seminary, and in the front is printed the
following letter from Miss English:
To my former Pupils and their Parents, and to other Friends:
At the request of Miss Harrover, who, for two years past, has
satisfactorily conducted the Institution, over which I so long
presided, and the care of which I relinquished, only because the
condition of my health and hearing made it imperatively necessary. I
would state, that my interest in its prosperity is undiminished,
that I earnestly desire to see it flourish, and that as far as I
have it in my power, it is my wish to extend its usefulness.
In renting the Seminary, I retain my own suite of apartments, and
have never withdrawn my residence from it. So far as I have
influence, and opportunities, I endeavor to promote the improvement
and comfort of the inmates of this establishment. I can not but feel
a special interest in the children and other relatives of those who
in former years were under my care and instruction, and it affords
me much pleasure to see them pursuing their education within the
same establishment. I shall rejoice to see the number of these, in
the coming year greatly increased.
With kind greetings, and best wishes, I remain,
Yours respectfully,
June 20, 1859. L. S. ENGLISH.
Among the names of the pupils I find that of my mother, and many more
familiar to me all of my life.
When the first battle of Bull Run was fought, with such disastrous
results to the Union Army, this building was immediately taken over by
the United States government as a hospital, and Dr. Armistead Peter,
although a Southern sympathizer, was drafted to be in charge of it. An
old lady has told me how she was brought by her nurse on that Monday in
July, the day after the battle, to watch the unloading of the wagons
full of maimed and bleeding soldiers.
The row of frame houses across the street, on N Street, was built at
that time as barracks for the non-commissioned officers on duty at the
hospital.
Apparently, after the war, Miss Harrover never resumed her school, as,
in 1870, it was being used as an apartment house. I rather think it must
be the oldest apartment house in the District.
The part of the building on the corner was torn down several years ago
and the Edes Home built. It is a home for Georgetown widows. As the
money for it was left by Miss Margaret Edes, who was certainly never a
widow, and the wording of her will said "for the indigent widows of
Georgetown," many people think it was a mistake and was meant to read
"the indigent women of Georgetown."
Just across the street from the Seminary stands the house which was "Old
Dr. Tyler's" home. First of all, it was the home of George W. Riggs;
after that, for many, many years, that of Dr. Grafton Tyler, the beloved
physician. He was a native of southern Maryland, and a cousin of
President Tyler.
During his long life Dr. Tyler enjoyed many honors of high professional
distinction and was the intimate friend and companion of distinguished
statesmen, jurists, and scholars.
In those days doctors took families at "so much" a year, including the
slaves. Not long ago I heard this story about the dear old doctor. For
years and years he had attended a family where there was an addition
almost annually, and he had never sent a bill. Finally, when they were
all nearly grown, the father inherited a nice little sum of money. Not
long afterwards Dr. Tyler was called in for a slight illness. When the
first of the year came round Dr. Tyler sent a bill. The morning after
its receipt the father burst into the doctor's office in a rage, "What
did he mean by sending him a bill? Tut, tut!" And there the matter
ended.
[Illustration: DR. GRAFTON TYLER]
For a great many years Dr. Tyler was the physician for Georgetown
College. It is still a tradition in the family about the turkeys and
the very delicious raisin bread that came every Christmas from the
priests.
His son, Dr. Walter Bowie Tyler, followed him, but not for long, as he
had consumption, as tuberculosis was called in those days. He was asked
to be pall-bearer at the funeral of a young lady who, as a dying
request, asked to be carried up to Oak Hill because she had a horror of
being put in a hearse. Dr. Tyler struggled along for two or three blocks
when my father, who was very fond of him, stepped in, pushed him aside
and finished the journey.
On the block above, on Washington (30th) Street, in a white, frame house
on the west side of the street, lived Captain de la Roche, who was the
architect of Oak Hill Cemetery and of Saint John's Church where he was a
vestryman when it was remodeled in 1840. Apropos of that, several years
ago while I was living away from Georgetown for a short period of years,
on one of my return visits, I was standing on the corner of Dumbarton
Avenue and 31st Street waiting for a street-car. The wait was long and I
looked about me up and down the streets, to the westward, above the tree
tops was an object totally strange to my Georgetown eyes, a church
steeple of the somewhat Bulfinch type. I reasoned that it could not be
anything but the steeple of Saint John's, but I knew I had never seen it
look like that--it had always resembled a large pepper pot more than
anything else. Upon inquiry, I found that not long before the vestry of
Saint John's had found that some repairs were necessary on the tower, so
one of their number, a civil engineer, ascended with an architect and
while hunting around, they discovered part of the original tower still
there, inclosed in the more modern square building. It was torn away
and the old church now bears part of its original headdress. Only the
lower story of the tower remains as the smaller ones which used to
surmount it had, of course, been lost.
Captain and Mrs. de la Roche had three daughters; two of them had
married officers in the United States Army. When the Civil War came
their sympathies were with the South. One husband promptly resigned and
went with the Confederates. The other would not resign but his wife,
being a very resourceful person, kept after him, not being able to stand
having a husband in the hated Yankee army, until, during a temporary
illness, she got him discharged as not fit for marching.
Captain de la Roche having died, his widow was forced to take boarders
at her table, and several of the Union officers availed themselves of
the bountiful Southern fare. After a while the youngest daughter, who
was a red-hot rebel, found herself deeply in love with a young Yankee
doctor. I wonder if he was on duty at the hospital in the Seminary down
the street? An engagement followed and the marriage was imminent, but
she could not bring herself to confess to her friends that she was about
to become the wife of one of the despised soldiers. Finally her mother
told her she must at least tell Mrs. Cassin, their neighbor on the
corner, who was very devoted to her. So she summoned all her courage and
marched down the street. After a great deal of humming and hawing, she
finally got out the news and asked Mrs. Cassin to come to the quiet
wedding at the home next day, but said, "Please don't tell Mittie until
it is over."
Around the corner from Washington (30th) Street, at 3018 Dumbarton
Avenue, is the house that Mr. George Green built for his large family,
when he sold his place, "Forrest Hill," which was part of Rosedale, to
President Cleveland for his summer home. This is now the home of Justice
Frankfurter.
Going westward along Dumbarton Avenue on the northern side of the
street, now high up above it, stands the house where lived Jeremiah
Williams, a prominent merchant, whose daughter married Paymaster Boggs.
It is still sometimes called The Old Boggs Place.
The great bank of earth there shows what a deep cut had to be made when
the street was leveled in the days when Alexander Shepherd, as Governor
of the District, performed the office of surgeon on the streets of the
city. He made of it a wonderful job, but was roundly hated by many of
the property owners whom he left sitting way up in the air, or
contrariwise, down in a hole.
The house is now divided into two houses--the one on the east, 3035, is
the home of that fine commentator, Richard Harkness.
Across the street at 3040 is where Dr. and Mrs. Louis Mackall, Senior,
lived and their daughter, Miss Sally Somervell Mackall who wrote her
book about Georgetown called _Early Days of Washington_.
Before them the Edes family had lived there. The story is told of Miss
Margaret, she who left the money for the Edes Home, one night, when she
went up to her chamber, as they were called in those days, that she saw
a man's boots protruding from under the bed. Instead of losing her head,
she began whistling a little tune as she walked about the room, pulled
out the bureau drawers as if looking for something, then went out of the
room, closed the door and softly locked it, sent for the police and
captured the burglar.
On the northwest corner of Dumbarton Avenue and Congress (31st) Street
was the home of Judge Henry Henley Chapman, who came to Georgetown from
Annapolis in the early twenties. He married Miss Mary Davidson, daughter
of Colonel John Davidson whose brother Samuel was the owner of Evermay.
Two of Judge Chapman's daughters married Francis Dodge, junior; first
Jane, then Frances Isabella. His son, Edward, lived on in the home until
his death when Mrs. Frances Isabella Dodge took it, had it remodeled
somewhat, and entertained there a great deal. After her death it was
bought by her stepson, of course also her nephew, Henry Henley Dodge,
and I myself remember going to lovely parties given by his children in
the big, old rooms.
The house was pulled down about 1900 and a row of brick houses built in
its place. It was a handsome house, facing on Dumbarton Avenue, painted
a greenish tan, with long porches running along the back building
overlooking the yard which extended back to Christ Church. In this yard
were two very handsome trees, one a horse chestnut and one a magnolia.
It was enclosed by an iron fence, one of the kind despised and pulled
down in the nineties, and now being eagerly sought and replaced in doing
over old houses.
[Illustration: HOME OF JUDGE HENRY HENLEY CHAPMAN]
There is a delicious story of how, in the long ago, when all five of the
daughters were still at home, a wandering cow got in at the gate, and at
four o'clock in the morning (I hope it was the summer time) Aunt Peggy
Davidson roused all the girls to go out and get the beast out of the
garden. An old colored man was passing, delivering milk, and was heard
to exclaim, "Good Gawd, Mis' Chapman's yard is full of ghoses!"
Immediately across from this house stood, and still stands, the old
Berry house. It, too, shows how it was hoisted above the street when its
level was changed. It was built by Philip Taylor Berry in the early
1800's and no other family had ever lived there until his last daughters
died, ripe in years.
There were four of them, all old maids (Georgetown had five or six
houses of four old maids in my childhood). These were in two sets, but
the two older ones far outlived the two younger, who were always very
retiring and delicate. When the last two were up in their nineties,
being bed-ridden, one on one floor, the other on another, each with a
nurse, they used to send messages to each other and exchange the novels
which they read over and over again. At last, one night in the winter,
the old house caught on fire and when the firemen got there it was so
far under way that both old ladies had to be carried down ladders to the
street, quite a perilous trip, which they both survived, however, and
lived for several years thereafter.
The two older sisters were descendants of John Stoddert Haw; the two
younger, of Samuel McKenney and thereby, of course, of Henry Foxall. One
of them, I heard all of my childhood was very, very pretty, but,
although they were both great friends of my mother, I never saw her
face, for she never went out of doors without a heavy, blue barege veil.
It is said her eyes were weak but there was, too, a romantic story of
her having been "disappointed in love," as they said in those days.
[Illustration: OLD MCKENNEY HOUSE]
A little farther west on Dumbarton Avenue on the north side of the
street, above its stone wall topped with a white picket fence, is the
old McKenney house. This is the house that Henry Foxall gave to his only
daughter, Mary Ann, when she became the bride of Samuel McKenney in
1800. Until a few years ago, there lived here her granddaughter, Mrs.
McCartney and her children and grandchildren, the fifth generation to
live in the old house.
It was such a dear, sweet old house and the garden, too. At the marriage
of the daughter of Mrs. McCartney, the lace wedding veil was the same
that was worn long ago by Mary Ann Foxall, whose namesake she was.
The old house was full of treasures and curios, an exquisite little
white marble clock which once upon a time ticked off the hours for Marie
Antoinette, that beautiful and tragic queen. It was presented to Henry
Foxall by his friend and partner, Robert Morris, who had gotten it from
Gouveneur Morris, he having bought it in Paris. Also there was lots of
lovely old Spode china, and there is a story told of how Aunt Montie was
found one day feeding the cats from the priceless dishes. When
reprimanded, she explained she didn't want to use any of the "nice new
china."
In 1840 a maiden lady from Philadelphia came one day to have lunch, or
midday dinner as I imagine it was in those days, and was planning to
take the stage-coach for her return journey soon after the meal. She had
been telling stories to the children and when the time for her departure
neared, little Henrietta McKenney burst into tears; she didn't want such
a delightful story-teller to go. Mrs. McKenney urged her to stay, so
she agreed to stay for a day or two, at the end of that time, for a week
or so. The time passed and she stayed on. Her visit lasted forty years,
and was ended only by her call to another world. She had asked soon
after her settlement into the home life for some duties so she took over
the charge of the linen of the household and the making of the desserts.
She had one fetich, the candles must be extinguished at ten o'clock. She
had her way, even if guests were present--they were put out. She went to
bed--they were relit. One night after her death, a young son of the
house, about thirteen or so, was put to sleep in her room; at ten
o'clock the candle just went out. Every night it happened; they hunted
for drafts. No drafts could be located; the candles just always ceased
to burn when the clocks reached the hour of ten.
In this block about 1820 Mrs. Mary Billings, an Englishwoman, opened a
school where she started to teach both colored and white children
together, but a great deal of prejudice arising on the subject, she
devoted herself entirely to the colored race and continued to do so for
a number of years until she moved over to the city. Later, Mr. Street's
school for boys stood here. It was just opposite the old McKenney house
with a yard running down almost to High Street.
The Methodist Episcopal Church on this block was formerly located on
Montgomery (28th) Street. It had its beginning there in 1800. The church
on the present site, which has a modern facade, was used as a Federal
hospital during the Civil War, Dr. Peter being in charge of it as well
as the Seminary.
[Illustration: ST. JOHN'S CHURCH]
On the other side of High Street stands St. John's Episcopal Church, the
lot for which was given in 1796 by the Deakins' family. Reverend Walter
Addison of Prince Georges County, Maryland, had visited George Town in
1794 and 1795 and held occasional services, so a movement was started to
build a church. Among the subscribers were Thomas Jefferson and Dr.
Balch. The first rector was Reverend Mr. Sayrs of Port Tobacco in 1804.
Five years later he died and was immortalized in an epitaph in the
church, written by Francis Scott Key:
JOB: J. SAYRS
HU: EEL
RECTOR PRIMUS
HIC
(QUO CHRISTI SERVUS FIDELITES MINUS TRAVIT)
SEP: JAO
OB: 6 JAN. A. D. MDCCIX
AET XXXV
HERE ONCE STOOD FORTH A MAN, WHO FROM THE WORLD
THOUGH BRIGHT ITS ASPECT TO THE YOUTHFUL EYE,
TURNED WITH AFFECTION ARDENT TO HIS GOD,
AND LIV'D AND DIED AN HUMBLE MINISTER
OF HIS BENIGNANT PURPOSES TO MAN.
HERE LIES HE NOW--YET GRIEVE NOT THEN FOR HIM
READER! HE TRUSTED IN THAT LOVE WHERE NONE
HAVE VAINLY TRUSTED--RATHER LET
HIS MARBLE SPEAK TO THEE, AND SHOULDST THOU FEEL,
THE RISING OF A NEW AND SOLEMN THOUGHT
WAK'D BY THIS SACRED PLACE AND SAD MEMORIAL
O LISTEN TO ITS IMPULSE! 'TIS DIVINE--
AND IT SHALL GUIDE THEE TO A LIFE OF JOY,
A DEATH OF HOPE AND ENDLESS BLISS THEREAFTER.
In 1807 the vestry included Charles Worthington, Washington Bowie,
Thomas Corcoran, John Mason, Thomas Plater, Benjamin Mackall, Philip
Barton Key, and William Stewart. A little later, in 1811, an old writer
says: "At that time the church was thronged to an over flow with all who
were most elevated in station and in wealth from the Capital; the pews
in the gallery were rented at high rates and to persons of great
respectability. The street before the church was filled with glittering
vehicles and liveried servants."
In 1831 the vestry failed to elect a rector as successor to Reverend Mr.
James. For seven years, the church was closed, worse than closed, for it
fell into disrepair to such an extent that the birds and the bats made
their nests in it, so that it was called "The Swallow Barn." A sculptor
rented it for his studio, which scandalized many of its old-time
worshippers who hated to think of the statues of heathen gods and
goddesses in the temple of the Lord. At last, in 1838, a vestry was
elected, and from that time, St. John's has always flourished.
In its chancel are paintings of the four evangelists done by the
Reverend Mr. Oertel. He was also a wood-carver and a musician, and was
from Nuremberg in Germany which, I suppose, explains why he was always
called Master by his wife. They lived for a good while on Gay (N)
Street. Mr. Corcoran bought several of his pictures for his gallery. His
best known work was called "Rock of Ages," and represented a female
figure with long hair and floating white garments clinging to an
enormous cross. This picture was often used on Easter cards.
Several years ago a large boulder was placed on the bank of the
churchyard, bearing this inscription:
COLONEL NINIAN BEALL
BORN SCOTLAND 1625 DIED MARYLAND 1717
PATENTEE OF ROCK OF DUMBARTON
MEMBER OF THE HOUSE OF BURGESSES
COMMANDER IN CHIEF OF PROVINCIAL FORCES
OF MARYLAND
IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION OF HIS SERVICES
"UPON ALL INCURSIONS AND DISTURBANCES
OF NEIGHBORING INDIANS"
THE MARYLAND ASSEMBLY OF 1699 PASSED
"AN ACT OF GRATUITY"
THIS MEMORIAL ERECTED BY THE SOCIETY OF
COLONIAL WARS IN THE DISTRICT
OF COLUMBIA, 1910
Just behind the church and adjoining it on little Potomac Street, is a
house where, fifty years ago, used to live two old maid sisters who were
absolute hermits. Their food was drawn up in a basket which they let
down to an old family retainer containing the money with which to do
their purchasing. Whenever the organ was played in St. John's, they used
to take a hammer and beat upon the wall as long as the music continued.
The large yellow house at the southwest corner of Market (33rd) and
Second (O) Streets is where Thomas E. Waggaman lived in the nineties. He
built an addition on the west as an art gallery for his collection of
pictures. It is now a separate house. Here, some years ago, lived Jouett
Shouse at the time he formed his Liberty League. Recently, Colonel and
Mrs. Alf Heiberg made it their home. They placed an eagle over the door
and called it "Federal House."
Right across the street stood a dear old house some years ago. It was
white, with double piazzas all the way across the front. The yard was
enclosed by a paling fence and from the gate a double border of box led
to the door. It was the home of Dr. Hezekiah Magruder.
About 1833 the family of Admiral James Hogan Sands lived there. William
Franklin Sands, author of _Undiplomatic Memories_ was one of his sons.
The old house was torn down about 1890.
Across the street, at number 3318, is the home of Mr. and Mrs. David E.
Finley. He is the Director of the National Gallery of Art.
Number 3322 is the interesting old house where, in the forties and
fifties lived Baron Bodisco, Minister from Russia to the United States.
He had a very romantic marriage of which I shall tell later. Just before
the marriage he purchased this house from Sally Van Devanter, who had
inherited it in 1840 from her husband, Christopher Van Devanter,
apparently, the builder of the house. Baron Bodisco, the same day he
bought it, gave it to his fiancee, Harriet Beall Williams. Whether it
was a wedding gift or whether, as a foreign envoy, he could not hold
property, I do not know. She kept the property for twenty years until
her remarriage to Captain Douglas Scott, when it was bought by Abraham
H. Herr. During the Civil War, it was headquarters for the officers of
the Second U. S. Regiment, whose enlisted men were quartered in Forrest
Hall.
[Illustration: BODISCO HOUSE]
But to return to the period when it was owned and occupied by the Van
Devanter family. During these years, they apparently had a most
interesting guest, Mrs. Henry Lee, the widow of "Light Horse Harry," and
the mother of Robert E. Lee. In Dr. Douglas Freeman's book _R. E. Lee_,
he quotes two letters from Mrs. Lee written not long before her death
from "Georgetown." She did not specify where she was, but Mrs. Beverley
Kennon, many years afterwards, said that this was the house in which she
resided.
Also, the Van Devanter family, a few years ago, found among old books
two books with inscriptions of names of the Lee family, evidently left
there during this time.
Here, at a ball one night, a young man who was making his entrance into
Washington society under the care of a senator had the following
experience. (The account is taken from _Harper's Magazine_):
This was my first entrance into fashionable life at one of Madame
Bodisco's birthnight balls. I was under the care of Senator ----. As
we entered the house, two tall specimens of humanity, dressed very
much like militia generals, in scarlet coats trimmed with gold lace
and white trousers, met us at the door. Thinking them distinguished
people, I bowed low and solemnly. They stared and bowed. "Go on,"
said the Senator, "don't be so polite to those fellows, they are
servants; give them your cloak." I hurried in pulling off my cloak
as I went. Just within the first door of the drawing room stood a
fat, oily little gentleman, bowing also, but not so magnificently
gotten up as my first acquaintances. Certain of my game now, I, in
superb style, threw over him my cloak and hurried on. Senator ----
pulled me back, and to the astonished little fellow now struggling
from under my broadcloth, I was presented. I had nearly smothered
the Russian Minister who, however, laughed merrily at the mistake.
He hardly knew what I would accomplish next, and left me as soon as
he possibly could, to my fate. I wandered about rather disconsolate.
The lights, music, dancing, fun and laughter, were all novelties and
charming for a while, but I knew no one after an hour's looking on,
hunted up the Senator and begged him to introduce me to some of the
young ladies. He hesitated a moment, and then consented, and I was
led up to and presented to a magnificent creature I had long looked
upon with silent admiration. Miss Gennie Williams, who was seated in
an easy, nonchalant manner, conversing with a circle of gentlemen,
and favored me with a gracious nod. As I stood wondering whether
this was the end of my introduction, a mustached dandy came between
us and said, "Miss Williams, permit me to relate the joke of the
season." To my horror he began the story of the cloak. My first
impulse was to knock him down, my second to run away; on my third I
acted. Interrupting the recital I said: "Begging your pardon, sir,
but Miss Williams, I am the only person who can do justice to that
joke," and continuing, I related it without in any way sparing
myself. She laughed heartily, as did the circle, and rising from her
chair, took my arm, saying kindly that I must be cared for or I
would murder some one. With a grace and kindness I shall never
forget, she placed me at my ease.
Next door to this house, at one time, lived Hamilton Bronaugh.
Just across the street, the big red brick Victorian house is where James
Roosevelt and his family were living in his father's first
administration.
Around the corner on Frederick (34th) Street, the house which has a
walled garden on the corner was the home of John G. Winant, when he was
here before going as Ambassador to the Court of St. James.
A block or two north of here, at 1524 Market (33rd) Street, was the old
Yellow Tavern, much used by those going to and fro to Rockville and
Frederick Town.
On Fourth Street (Volta Place), where the playground is now, was where
the old Presbyterian burying-ground used to be, which was the principal
graveyard until Oak Hill was given to the town in 1849. Among the
tombstones moved from there, when it was given up, were those of James
Gillespie, member of Congress from North Carolina, who was the first
member of that body to die after the removal of the seat of government,
and John Barnes, who had been collector of the port, and who, in his
will, left money for a poorhouse for Georgetown. He died in 1826 at the
age of ninety-six.
On Sixth Street (Dent Place), between Market (33rd) and Frederick (34th)
Streets, was the house which Francis Deakins sold on February 8, 1800 to
Old Yarrow, as he was called, one of the most mysterious and interesting
characters of the early days. It is not known whether he was an East
Indian or a Guinea negro, but he was a Mohammedan. He conducted a trade
in hacking with a small cart, and his ambition in life was to own a
hundred dollars. Twice he saved it and each time ill fortune overtook
him. The first time he gave it to an old groceryman he knew to keep for
him. The old man died suddenly and Yarrow had nothing to prove that he
had had his money. So the next time he picked a young man to keep it for
him. Then this one absconded. Some of the gentlemen of the town became
so interested that they took up a collection and started an account for
him in the Bank of Columbia. He must have been quite a figure in his
day, for his portrait was painted by James Alexander Simpson, and is now
owned by Mr. E. M. Talcott, who inherited it from Normanstone.
Quite a number of attractive houses have been built in this neighborhood
in the last few years and a good many "done over," all of them,
fortunately, in the style suitable for Georgetown.
They are very largely owned and occupied by people connected with the
Government, many of them in the State Department. In one of these
houses, a few years ago, lived the writer, Michael Strange, who had been
the wife of John Barrymore.