For many years I always looked forward to my annual visit to Washington with a great deal of pleasure for two reasons—I was sure of magnificent results so far as my engagements were concerned and a jolly good time besides. I always arranged my tour so as to play one week there, followed by a week's vacation. It was a necessary precaution!

Often I omitted rest altogether, just continuing the round of pleasure without pause. Dinners were followed by suppers, suppers by breakfasts! After a night at John Chamberlain's famous hostelry one felt that one never wanted to go to bed.

At that time Chamberlain's was the best known and the most popular resort of the cleverest men in the United States. For here one was sure of the best food in the country. The wines were of the finest quality. It is little wonder that it was known as the rendezvous of the enlightened.

Generally after the matinÉe and always after the evening performance I would wend my way to Chamberlain's and bathe in the atmosphere of the clever men who were the habituÉs. Here were congregated such men as Roscoe Conklin, James G. Blaine, President Arthur, Senators Brice, Beck, Blackburne and Jones, Secretary of the Treasury John G. Carlisle, William Mahone of Virginia, Arthur Pugh Gorman, Grover Cleveland, Speaker Crisp, Tom Reed of Maine, the first Czar of the Senate, John Allen, Lawrence Jerome, the witty father of William Travers Jerome later to become District Attorney of New York, Amos Cummings, Blakely Hall, Joe Howard, Jr.—but why enumerate all the leading characters of the United States? Men who were making American history congregated at this noted tavern and over a bottle of wine or an apple toddy discussed national affairs or the latest leg show. Chamberlain's was indeed the Hall of Fame.

For a period extending over twenty-five years John Chamberlain was as well known on the streets of Washington as any man occupying the executive chair. A portly man, weighing over two hundred pounds, his rotund figure was visible every pleasant afternoon as he strolled along Pennsylvania Avenue, always in company with some distinguished statesman. John was friendly with the mightiest.

John was one of the most affable of men. Never ruffled, he took the world for what it was worth and smiled with equal facility whatever came—whether failure or success (and he had his share of both). Beginning life as a roustabout on the Mississippi River he later blossomed forth as a professional gambler and soon was the most conspicuous member of that fraternity. It was in this way that he became immensely wealthy. But ill-luck overtook him as it chased him down the Road of Chance and Speculation and he landed on the rocks.

When men make fortunes by their wits, playing and preying upon the credulity of mankind, and misfortune overtakes them they are as a rule as helpless as children. Age has dulled their mentality. The charm that appeals to the gullible has vanished. Inventions to trap the credulous are more up to date and aged grafters must give way to the younger and more enlightened.

Poor John realized that his day had come, but taking advantage of the many friends he had made during the days of his prosperity and realizing that a spark of the old brilliancy yet remained he interested a few friends in a scheme to open a high-class restaurant, where the quality of wine and food could not be excelled in America and the prices prohibitive to any but those who could afford such luxuries. Having himself been a bon vivant for years John was of full form, "with good capon lined." No one was better fitted to cater to the tastes and inclinations of American statesmen. The Blaine residence was secured and Chamberlain was launched. It consisted of two houses thrown into one. We all met in one large room on the corner, a room about a hundred and fifty feet long and forty feet wide. In that room I have met the men as I have mentioned.

Many a night I have listened to dear William Mahone later known as "Little Billy," relate his experiences in the war. I have gone upstairs and watched the heavy play at poker (for stakes that would have amazed the many had they known the amount played for). I have watched the stolid Roscoe Conklin, as he came and went, recognizing hardly any one, majestic in demeanor, suggesting a proud turkey contemplating his barnyard companions. Then comes the magnetic James G. Blaine, in direct contrast to his adversary, Conklin, who cost him the Presidency of the United States. Blaine most often was listening to the caustic, rasping tones of Tom Reed who ordered his apple toddy in a voice another man would use to give an enemy the lie! I have hung on the words of brilliant Bob Ingersoll as they rolled from his colossal brain, gone from one table to another—to find each one more attractive than the last!

It was like sitting at a dress rehearsal of a play where all the actors were stars. I was in a theatre, a truly national playhouse, where plays were written every night. The plots of these dramas were so thrilling as to make their telling cause for envy! I count it one of the greatest privileges of my life to have seen these players as I saw and heard them.

Well, the hostelry is torn down, the landlord has paid his rent and sought a perpetual abode. All those whom I have mentioned are John's guests, wherever he is. He will meet them with a cold bottle and a hot bird and in some far off star I fancy I can see them all reunited, old Mammy, the cook, still quarreling with the head waiter as he communicates to Peter, "The season for canvas-back ducks is over, but Mr. John has just ordered some Philadelphia capon that he can highly recommend."

Chamberlain is now only a memory as far as Washington is concerned, but he has left a monument at Old Point Comfort where the hotel that bears his name now stands. It took him years to consummate the deal whereby the government gave him the concession that enabled his friends to advance the money to build that magnificent hotel. John never lived to see it succeed. Before he died the property went into the hands of a receiver and his friends lost their money. His grief undoubtedly hastened his end.

Which star do John and the brilliant men I have mentioned occupy?

I wonder!

Chapter XXIX