g».-^-%^/ x..^Xi:-"^ . u LL'n Glass - Book_— COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT •\^,^y^4t^ /j'A//f' - 4^st joyous and hap py affair, in which every belle and beau for miles around took part, they repaired at once to Mount Vernon. This property, a gift to Colonel Washing- ton fi'om his elder brother, Lawrence, was situated on the southern side of the Potomac, about fifteen miles from Washington City, and remarkable for the mag- nificent view of the river in fi'ont, as well as the culti- vation and adornment of the vast estate. Here for seventeen bright and beautiful years they enjoyed the society of relatives and friends, and the constant com- panionship of each other. During those years of prospei'ity, Mrs. Washington had ample opportunity to manifest that elegance of manner for which she was remarkable. In her girlhood, as Miss Dandridge, she had enjoyed the best society of Williamsburg, and during Gov. Dinwiddle's residence there, she had been one of the most popular and admired of the many blooming girls who had rendered the court of the Governor attractive. Married when very young to Colonel Custis, she had lived in comparative seclusion on his farm, devoting her time to her husband and children. Endeared to each other by the warmest affection, her life spent in dispensing that hospitality which was deemed a duty and a virtue, it seemed as if no trouble could ever mar her happiness. Colonel Custis was a gifted and refined gentleman, of emi- nently agreeable and cultivated sentiments, and the possessor by nature of a generous liberality which rendered him popular and respected. Here, on their plantation home, the congenial couple planned for PiOME EDUCATION. 15 their infant boy, "whose iiniisnal mental deveh^p nients gave only too delusive and fleeting promise of the future." But even as they dwelt upon his manly sports and coming school-days, death came for the rare treasure. He died, and with him went out the light and brightness of his sensitive parent, avIio sank prematurely into the grave ere he had yet scarcely passed the years of maturity. Thus, in a little while, was taken the boy whose existence first called into being all the deathless love of a mother and the companion and loving guide whose affection was m keeping with his pure and elevated mind. His romantic attention never diminished, and on his death-bed he bade her take charge of his estate and manage for herself and her two children. _ Nothing remains to us of her childhood save an indistinct tradition ; * perhaps her infant years were spent at her father's country home, unmarked but by the gradual change of the little one into the shy young girl. That she was educated after the ex- igency of her time, at home, is likewise a truth gath- ered from the echoes of the past generation. Vir- ginia, in those early days— for she was born in May 1732— possessed no educational facilities, and the children of the wealthy were either sent abroad for accomplishments unattainable in their native land, or put under the care of a tutor or governess at home. Such knowledge as she possessed of the world was gleaned from the few l)ooks she read, and the society Wak^' was a descendant of the Rey. Orlando Jones, a clergyman of 16 MARTHA WASHINGTON. of Ler father's friends, for she had never been farther from liome than Williamsburg. She is first mentioned as a rustic beauty and belle at the British Governor's residence, and was there addressed by Colonel Custis. After her marriage, she returned to a country life, and for several years lived in that old baronial style, the custom of the wealthy in the Colony. Her home was not far dis- tant from lier fathers plantation, and these fleeting years were so fraught with every conceivable blessing that her young heart asked no other boon. The deaths of husband and child were the mysteries of the inscrutable will of Providence, whereby she was to accomplish her destiny. The war with the French and Indians in the West, and the defeat and death of Braddock, was the first incident of public note which had occurred in her life, and was followed by deaths in her family which so materially changed the even tenor of her way. Time soothed the woinids naught else could heal, and the young \vidow serenely discharged the duties of her position. While she had vindicated the trust reposed in her by the success with which she con- trolled her large estate, she nevertheless yielded to the persuasions of her friends, and again accepted the protection of a husband. She was twenty-six years old when she first saw Colonel Washington at Mr. Chamberlayne's, and was remarkably youthful and handsome. She had ever l)een the fortunate object of warm and disinterested affection, and from her first entrance into the society ^7^ t: V G A HOME ESTABLISHED. 17 of Winiainsl)iirg, down to tlic last hour of Ler life^ it was eiiiinently illusti'ated. Few liad he(3ii lier sor- rows, and for eacli aiul every one endured she couhl count a twofold l)lessing. There was nothing in her life to foster the faults incident to human nature, for the rank weeds of poverty and bitterness which cramp and deform so many earth-lives, were unfelt and unknown to her. Subse(pient to her marriage to Colonel Washing- ton she resided at his home, now for the first time graced by the presence of a mistress. It had been the pleasant retreat of Colonel Lawrence Washing- ton's bachelor friends, and the occasional residence of his youngm' brother, but never a congenial place of abode until he established his young wife there, whose happiness was to be in future his peculiar care. Her life was similar to her farmer position as Mrs. Custis, for she was again the wife of a wealthy, prosperous planter, accustomed to the most refined society of the country, and occasionally accompany- ing her husband to Williamsburg, where he was for fifteen successive years a member of the Legislature. " How noiseless falls the foot of time That only treatis on flowers ! " Engaged in ftiscinating pleasures and congenial pursuits, it did not occur to Mrs. Wfishington how many summers of fragrantly blooming ilowers and ripening fruits had sunk into the unreturning past; nor did she consider that the long lapse of time in which she had been sc happy had meted to othera 18 MARTHA WASIIINGTOlSr. measured drops of bitterness, turning all their liar- vest-times into chilling, dreary winter. There came to lier a time when the pleasant home-life had to be abandoned, and for eight years the harmony of do- mestic 23eace was banished. The following letter, the only one preserved of the many addressed to her, is full of interest, and is replete with that thoughtfulness which characterized Washington in his capacity as a husband. Mrs. Washington, shortly before lier death, destroyed every testimonial of this kind, imwilling that any other should read these evidences of affection : " Philadelphia, 18tli Jnne^ 1775, " My Dearest : I am now set down to write to you on a subject which fills me with inexpressible concern, and this concern is greatly aggravated and increased when I reflect upon the uneasiness I know it will give you. It has been determined in Con- gress that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under iny care, and that it is necessary for me to proceed immediately to Boston to take upon me the command of it. " You may believe me, my dear Patsy, when I assure you, in the most solemn manner, that, so far from seeking tliis appointment, I have used" every endeavor in my power to avoid it, not only from my unwillingness to part with you and the family, but fi'om a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real hap- piness in oue nionth with you at home, than 1 have THE AFFECTIOlSr OF WASHITSTGTON. 19 the most distant prospects of finding abroad if my stay were to be seven times seven yaars. But as it has b(}en a kind of destiny that has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my undertaking it is designed to answer some good purpose. You might, and I suppose did, perceive, from the tenor of my letter, that I was apprehensive I could not avoid this appointment, as I did not pretend to intimate when I should return. That was the case. It was utterly out of my power to refuse this appointment, without exposing my character to such censures as would have reflected dishonor upon myself, and given pain to my friends. This, I am sure, could not and ought not to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my own esteem. I shall rely, therefore, confidently on that Providence which has heretofore preserved and been bountiful to me, not doubting but that I shall return safe to you in the Fall. I shall feel no pain from the toil or danger of the campaign ; my unhappiness will flow from the uneasiness I know you will feel from being left alone. T therefore beg that you will summon youi whole fortitude, and pass your time as agreeably as possible. Nothing else will give me so much sincere satisfaction as to hear this, and to hear it from your own pen. My earnest and ardent desire is, that you would pur- sue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a tolerable degree of tranquillity, as it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or complaining at what I really could not avoid. 20 MARTHA WASHINGTON. " As life is always uncertain, and common pru- dence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his temporal concerns while it is in his power, I have, since I came to this place — for I had no time to do it before I left home — got Colonel Pendleton to draft a will for me by the directions I gave him, which I will now enclose. The provisions made for you, in case of my death, will, I hope, be agreeable. I shall add nothing more, as I .have several letters to write, but to desire that you will remember me to your friends, and to assure you that I am, with the most unfeigned regard, my dear Patsy, " Your affectionate " George Washington." This trial of separation was mitigated, although often prolonged to weary months. Ever when the long Indian summer days of October shed glory over the burnished forest trees, her cumbrous carriage, with its heavy hangings and massive springs, sug- gestive of comfort, was brought to the door and laden with all the appurtenances of a winter's visit. Year after year as she had ordered supplies for this annual trip to her husband's camp, she trusted it would be the last ; and each time as the sei'vants cooked and packed for this too oft-repeated absenci), they wished it might hurry him home, to remember liovv many were needing his presence there. The battles were fierce and the struggles long, and if the orderly matron disliked the necessity of leaving home 80 often and for so long a time, her heart was glad INSULTED BY THE LADIES OF PHILADELPHIA. 21 of the sacrifice wlien she reached the doubly aiixioiia husband who was watching and waiting for her^ anxious for his wife, somewhere on the road, and for his bleeding country, struggling unavailingly for the eternal principles of freedom. It was her presence that lent sunshine to the oft-times dispirited com- mander, and sent a gleam of sunshine to the hearts of the officers, who saw in her coming the harbinger of their own hap]:)iness. For it was an established custom, for all who could, to send for their families after the commander had received and welcomed his. General Washington, after her annual trip, always wrote to persons who had been attentive and oblig- ing, and j)nnctually thanked every one who had in any way conduced to her comfort during her tedious stages from Mount Vernon. Never but once or twice had those yearly moves been disagreeable, and though universally unoffending, she felt the painful effects of party bitterness ; but the noble intrepidity of General Washington relieved the depressing influences of such unusual occurrences. Her own pride suffered nothing in comparison to the natural sensitiven 3ss she felt for her husband's fair fame, and the coldness on the part of others affected only as it reflected on her noble protector. Once, after an active campaign, as she was passing through Philadelphia, she was insulted by the ladies there, who declined noticing her by any civil- ities whatever. The tide in the affairs of men came, and, alas for human nature ! many of these haughty matrons were the first to welcome her there as the wife of the President. 22 MARTHA WASinNGTON. Mrs. Wusliiiigton was extremely plain iu lier dress, and displayed little taste for those liixurioua ornaments deemed appropriate for tlie wealthy and great. In lier own liome the spinning wheels and looms were kept constantly going, and her dresses were, many times, woven by her servants. General Washington wore at his inauguration a full suit of fine cloth, the handiw^ork of his ow^n household. At a ball given in New Jersey in honor to herself, she wo]-e a " simple russet gown," and white handker- chief about her neck, thereby setting an example to the women of the Revolution, who could ill afford to spend their time or means as lavishly as they might have desired. " On one occasion she gave the best proof of her success in domestic manufactures, by the exhibition of two of her di'esses, which were com- posed of cotton, striped with silk, and entirely home- made." The silk stripes in the fabric were woven from " the ravelings of brown silk stockings and old crimson chair-covers ! " When peace was declared and her mantle folded round the suffering young Republic, Mrs. Washington welcomed to Mount Vernon her hero-husband, who naturally hoped that he might " move gently down the stream of life until he slept with his fathers." But a proud, fond people called him again from his retreat to guide the ship of state; nor was he w^ho had fought her battles, and served her well, recreant now. Mrs. Washington's crowning glory in the world's esteem is the fact that she w^as the bosom companion of the " Father of his Country ; " but her fame aa HER FAME DUE TO MORAL WORTH. 'Jo Martha Dandridge, and afterward as Martlia CustiR, is due alone to lier moral worth. To her, as a gh'l and woman, belonged ])eauty, accomplishments, and great sweetness of disposition. Nor should we, in ascribing her impei'ishable memory to her hus])and'9 greatness, fail to do reverence to the noble attributes of her own nature ; yet we cannot descend to the hyperbolical strain so often indulged in l)y writers when speaking of Mrs. Washington. In tracing the life of an individual, it becomes necessary to examine the great events and marked incidents of the times, and to most generally form from such landmarks the motives that prompted the acts of an earth-existence. More especially is this necessary if the era in which our subject lived was remarkable for any heroic deeds or valoi'ous exploits which affected the condition of mankind. Personally, Mrs. Washington's life was a smooth and even existence, save as it was stirred by some natural cause, but, viewed in coimection with the historical events of her day, it Ijecame one of peculiar interest. As a wife, mother, and friend, she was worthy of respect, but save only as the companion of Washing- ton is her record of public intei'est. She was in no wise a student, hardly a regular reader, nor gifted with literary ability; but if that law, stern neqessity, which knows no deviation, had forced her from her seclusion and luxury, hers would have been an organ- ization of active goodness. Most especially would she have been a benevolent woman, and it is to be regretted by posterity as a misfortune that there was 24 MAirniA Washington. no real urgency for a more useful life. Her good for- tune it was to be wealthy, of good family, young and attractive; and if she was not versed in the higher branches of literature, it was no fault of her own, probably, since the drawbacks incident to the pur- suit of- knowledge, under the difliculties and obstacles of a life in a new country, together with their early marriages, deterred women from "drinking deep of the Pierean spring ; " but, under the benign influences of Christian morality, the children of the Old Domin- ion were carefully and virtuously trained, and were exemplary daughters, wives, and mothers. Many have occupied the nominal position Mrs. Washington held, but, in I'eality, no American, or, indeed, no woman of earth, will ever be so exalted in the hearts of a nation as was she ; and yet there is no single instance recorded of any act of heroism of hers, although she lived in times that tried men's souls, and was so intimately associated through her husband with all the great events of the Revolution. "Nor does it appear, from the documents handed down to us, that she was a very notable housewife, but rather inclined to leave the matter under her hus])and's control, whose method and love of do- mestic life admirably fitted him to manage a large establishment. They evidently lived together on very excellent terms, though she sometimes was dis- posed to (pnu-rel with him about the grand-children, who he insisted (and he always carried the point) should ha under thorough disciplinarians, as well aa competent teachers, when they were sent from home BUT ONE WARirmOTON. '2D It was a source of i'ca;ret tliat slie bore no cliildren to him, l>ut an able writer lias said : " Providence left liini cliildless that he might be the father of his country." it is hard to judge whether or not it \vas a blessing; but it certainly has not detracted from his o-reatness that he left no successor to his fame. On o the contrary, it is all the brigliter from having no cloud to dim the solitary grandeur of his s])otless UMme. Few sons of truly great and illusti-icnis men have ever reflected honor upon the father, and many have done otherwise. When we consider how many representative men of the world, in all nations and ages, have been burdened and oppressed with the luimiliating conduct of their children, let it Ix; a source of joy, rather than of regret, that there was but one Washington, either ])y the ties of consan- guinity or the will of Providence. This ])ure char- acter was never marred by any im2)erfect type of his own, and in his life we recognize the fact that occa- sionally, in great emergencies, God lifts uu a man for tlie deed ; when the career is ended, the model, though not the example, is lost to tlie woi-ld. Mrs. Washino-ton's two childiH3n were with her the ))right years of her life intei'vening between her marriage and the Kevolution. Iler daughter Avas fast; l)udding into womanhood, and how beautiful, thought tlie loving mother, were the delicate outlines of her fair yoimg face! Airy castles and visionjiry scencis of s])len(h)r reared their grand pi-o])oi'tions in tlie twilight-clouds of her imagination; and in tli(i sun- light of security she saw not, or, if pei'chance did <\(t- MARTHA WASHINGTON. 2Q MARTHA WA«iUiNtTavx>. fine, the indistinct outlines of the spectre, grim and gaunt, heeded not its significant appearance at hu festive board. I^a r natural channs of youth freshness and wor dly possession., the n.other's idol the l>rothers ^llynitefand father's cherished daughter, d>ed and the li-h of the house went out, and a wad ot antu si filled the air as the night winds rushed lun-- "yhiMy past that desolate home on the shore of the """ftp^pose was born out of that grief- a self-ab'egated firmness to rise above ^hepjon^e lamentations of selfish sorrow; and tl^^^^ •'^*^' ward for lon<. and saddened years, a shadow of a fori woe rested upon that quiet place, the poor oved it better than ever before, and meek char.ty found more willing hands than in the days of reck- SaiTiness. Rdigion, too, and winnmg sympathy, softened tlie poignant grief, and " The fates unwound tlie ball of time, And dealt it out to man." The cannon of the Continental Militia at Lexing- ton belched forth its hoarse sound on the mormng of ie li of April, 1775, as in the gray twd.ght ot ^J^hing aiy ; W of '-t: ^Sfech^ If demand the '^^^Pf^^:;;^,^ .tlu A the distant forests, those reports went nngmg t^uou and fleetest couriers earned its *> !'»-^ '^'^y , ^j rippling waves of the Potomac calhng «'Y' ,!"«"! freedom to arms. Mrs. Washington heard the ^^ar. GIVES HUSBAND AND SON TO IIEK COUNTRY. 27 cry. and felt that tlie absence of lier liusbaiid was now indefinite ; for she knew that from his post in the councils of the nation he would go to serve liis country in the field. Nor was she mistaken in her conclusions. She met the Commander-in-chief at his winter headquarters at Cambridge, after an absence of nearly a year, in December, 1775, and continued during the Revolution to go each winter to his headquarters. In early spring she retnrneA to her home, leaving be- hind her only child, whose desire to remain with hia adopted father obtained from her a reluctant consent. '' For usefulness and honor she had I'eared him to manhood, and to her country she now resigned this last lingering scion of maternal hope and joy," and returned to Mount Vernon accompanied by her dauo-hter-in-law.* The next winter she passed at Morristown, New Jersey, where she experienced some of the real hard- ships and sufferings of camp-life. The previous sea- son, at Cambridge, the ofiicers and their families had resided in the mansions of the Tories, who had de- serted tliem to join the British ; but at Morristown she occupied a small frame-house, without any con- venience or comforts, and, as before, returned in the ■spring, with her daughter-in-law and children. Valley Forge, during the last months of 1777 and the early part of 1778, was the scene of the severest * Mr. Parke Custia was married to Miss Neily Calvert the 3rd of February 1774. 28 MAETHA WASHINGTON". sufferings, replete with more terrible want than any ever known in the history of the Colonies.* During all this season of horrors, Mrs. Washington remained with her husband, trying to comfort and animate him in the midst of his trials. Succeeding years brought the same routine, and victory and de- feat walked ofttimes hand in hand. October of 1781 brought " gla,d tidings of great joy " in the caj)ture of Yorktown, and nothing seemed to defer the long anticipated return of General Washington to his family and friends. Ere yet the shouts of victory rang out upon the listening ear of a continent. Colonel Custis was borne from the scene of triumph to a village in New Kent County to die, and soon the messenger startled the inmates of Mount Vernon with the mournful intelli- gence. Washington, amid the intense joy of his troops, could not conceal his anxious feelings for this deeply loved son of his adoption, and his heart went out to his crushed wife. " He left Yorktown on the 5th of November, and reached, the same day, the residence of his old friend. Colonel Bassett. He ar- rived just in time to receive the last breath of John Parke Custis, as he had several years previously ren- dered tender and pious offices at the death-bed of his * Six miles above Morristown, Peiisylvania, and twenty from Phil- adelphia, on the Schuylkill River, is the deep hollow known as Valley Forge. It is situated at the mouth of Valley Creek, and on either side rise the mountains above this lonely spot. To the fact that in thia valley there had onc-j been several forges, it owes its name, and here Washington found winter quarters tor his suflering army A MOURNING FAMILY. 29 sister, Miss Custis. The deceased liad heen tlie object of Wasliington's care from eliildliood, and l^een cLer- islied l)y liim with paternal affection. Keared under bis guidance and instructions, lie liad been fitted to take a part in the public concerns of his country, and had acquitted himself with credit as a member of the Virginia Legislature. He was but twenty- eight years old at the time of his death, and left a widow and four young children. It was an unex- pected event, and the dying-scene was rendered peculiarly affecting from the presence of the mother and wife of the deceased. - Washington remained several days at Eltham to comfort them in their affliction. As a consolation to Mrs. Washing^ton in her bereavement, he adopted the two youngest chil- dren of the deceased, a boy and girl, who thenceforth formed a part of his immediate family." Mrs. Washino'ton did not know that her husband had left the scene of his triumph, until he suddenly appeared in the room of death ; and it calmed her to have his presence in so trying an hour. He returned with the sad mourners to Mount Vernon, and mingled with those two sorrowful hearts the tears of his own sad soul. The world and its cares called him hence, and he turned away from his quiet home to meet the de- mands of his country for his services. Congress re- ceived him in Philadelphia with distinguished honors, and he everywhere was the recipient of his country's love and reverence. Called from his retirement to preside over the so MARTHA WASHINGTON. destinies of liis country as its first President, Wasli- ington immediately left Lis home and repaired to New York City, the seat of government.* Our young country demanded, in the beginning, that regard for forms and etiquette which would com- mand respect in the eyes of foreign courts ; and, act- iuo^ in accordance witli this desiain, the house of the first President was furnished with ele2:ance, and its routine was arranged in as formal a manner as that of St. James or St. Cloud. Always an aristocrat, Mrs. Washington's adminis- tration as " hostess " was but a reproduction of the customs and ceremonies of foreio^n heads of a:overn- ment, and her receptions were arranged on the plan of the English and French drawing-rooms. She assumed the duties of her position, as wife of the Chief Magistrate, with the twofold advantage of wealth and high social position, and was, in manner, appearance, and character, the pleasing and graceful representative of a class of whicli, unfortunately, the original is now taken from us, a lady of the olden time. Reared as she had been, a descendant of the chivalry of Virginia, who in their turn were the de- scendants of the English nobility — aristocratic, proud, and pleased with her lofty position — she brought to bear all the brightness of a prosperous existence, and her influence extended to foreign lands. * The journey to New York was a continued triumph. The august epectacle iit the bridge of Trenton brouglit tears to the eyes of the Chief, and forms one of the most brilliant recollections of the age of Wiishington. TUE EEPUELICAN COURT IN NEW YOllK. 31 The levees held at the Republican Court — then located at No. 3 Franklin Square, New York — were numerously attended l)y the fashionable and refined of the cit}^ The rules of the establishment were rigorous, and persons were excluded unless in tlie dress required. Access was not easy, and dignified statelinesss reigned ov^er the mansion of the first President of the United States. The subjoined let- ter, written to Mrs. Warren soon after Mrs. Washing- ton's arrival at the seat of government, will present her views on the subject of her elevation more cor rectly than detached extracts from other books. " Your very friendly letter of last montli has aft'orded me much more satisfaction than all the formal compliments and empty ceremonies of mere etiquette could possibW have done. I am not apt to forget the feelings which have l)een inspired l)y my former society with good acquaintance*, nor to be insensible to their expressions of gratitude to the President ; for you know me well enough to do me the justice to believe that I am fond only of what comes from the heart. Under a conviction that the demonstrations of respect and affection to him origi- nate in that source, I cannot deny that I have taken some interest and pleasure in them. The difficulties which presented themselves to view upon his first entering upon the Presidency, seem thus to be in some measure surmounted. It is owins: to the kind- ness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my new and unwished-for situation is not a burden to 32 MAKTHA WASHINGTON. me. Wlien I was mncli younger, I slioiild prol»al)ly have enjoyed the iimoceDt gay*ties of life as mucli aa most persons of ray age ; but I had long since placed all prospects of my future worldly happiness in the still enjoyment of the fireside at Mount Vernon. I little thought, when the war was finished, that any circumstances could possibly liappen which would call the General into public life again. I had antici- pated that from that moment we should be suffered to grow old together in solitude and tranquillity. That was the first and dearest wish of my heart. I will not, however, contemplate, with too much regret, disappointments that were inevitable, though his feel- ings and my own were in perfect unison with re- spect to our predilection for private life ; yet I can- not blame him for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country. The consciousness of having attempted to do all the good in his power, and the pleasure of finding his fellow-citizens so well satisfied with the disinterested- ness of his conduct, will doubtless be some compen- Bation for the great sacrifices which I knov/ he has made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon to this place, in his late tour through the Eastern States, by eveiy public and every private informa- tion which has come to him, I am persuaded he has experienced nothing to make him repent his having acted from what he conceives to be a sense of indis- pensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility has been awakened in receiving such repeated and unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his coun- REMOVES TO PHILADELPHIA. 33 trymen. Witli respect to myself, I sometimes think the arrangement is not quite as it oiiglit to have been ; that I, who had mucli rather be at home, should occupy a place with which a great many younger and gayer women would be extremely pleased. As my grand-children and domestic con- nections make up a great portion of the felicity which I looked for in this world, I shall hardly be able to find any substitute that will indemnify me for the loss of such endearing society. I do not say this because I feel dissatisfied with my present sta- tion, for every body and every thing conspire to make me as contented as possible in it ; yet I have learned too much of the vanity of human affairs to expect felicity from the scenes of public life. I am still de termiued to be cheerful and haj^py in whatever situ- ation I may be ; for I have also learned from experi- ence that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circum- stances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other about with us in our minds, Avherever we go." The second year of Washington's administration, the seat of government was removed to Philadelphia. Mrs. Washington was sick when she started on the journey, and remained in Philadelphia until she was strong enough to go on to Mount Vernon. The late Rev. Ashbel Green, for a long time President of Princeton College, and one of the early Chaplains of Congress, in speaking of the seat of government, said : " After a great deal of writing and 34 MARTHA WASHINGTON. talking and controversy about the permanent seat of Congress under the present Constitution, it was de- termined that Philadelphia should be honored with its presence for ten years, and afterward the perma- nent location should be in the city of Washington, where it now is. In the mean time, the Federal city was in building, and the Legislature of Pennsylvania voted a sum of money to build a house for the Presi- dent, perhaps witli some hope that this might help to keep the seat of the general government in the Capital ; for Philadelphia was then considered as the Capital of the State. What was lately the Univer- sity of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for the purpose. But as soon as General Washington saw its dimensions, and a good while before it was finished, he let it be known that he would not occupy it, and should certainly not go to the expense of pur- thasing suitable furniture for such a dwelling ; for it 13 to be understood, in those days of stern republican- ism, nobody thought of Congress furnishing the Presi- dent's house ; or if perchance such a thought did enter into some aristocratic head, it was too unpopu- lar to be uttered. President Washington therefore rented a house of Mr. Robert Morris, in Market street, between Fifth and Sixth, on the south side, and furnished it handsomely, but not gorgeously." From New York, by weary processes, the house- bold furniture of individuals and government prop- erty w\as moved. General Washington superintended the preparation and embarkation of all his personal effects, deciding the time and manner in which every FOEMALITY AT KECEPTIONS. 85 article was taken or sold, and attending to all with a scrupulous zeal which is surprising when we considei his public position. His letters to Mr. Lear are aa characteristic of his private life as was his career as founder of the Kepublic. On Saturday afternoon, November the 28th, the President and his wife re- turned from Mount Vernon, and took up their resi- dence in the house of Mr. Morris, which the corpo- ration had obtained for them. They found Congress- men and public characters already assembled, in anticipation of a gay and brilliant season. Mrs. Washington held her drawing-rooms on Friday even- ing of each week ; company assembled early and retired before half-past ten. It is related on one occasion, at a levee held in New York the first year of the administration, that she remarked, as the hands on the clock approached ten, *' that her husband re- tired punctually at ten, and she followed very soon afterward." A degree of stiffness and formality ex- isted at those receptions that we of this age can scarcely understand, accustomed as we are to the familiarity and freedom of the present-day gather- ings ; but the imposing dignity of the Executive himself rebuked all attempts at equality, and the novelty of the position itself caused a general awk- wardness. Unlike latter-day levees, the lady of the mansion always sat, and the guests were arranged in a circle round which the President passed, speaking kindly to each one. It is to be regretted that no descriptions exist of the appearance of Mrs. Wash- ington at these fete evenings. Little or no attention, 36 MARTHA WASHINGTON. outside of social life, was paid to sucli items as liow ladies dressed and what tliey appeared in, and letter- WTitino' was not so universal as we of modern times have made it ; hence there remains no source from whence to gather these little trifles which form part of every newspaper edition of the present day. The President always had his hair powdered, and never offered his hand to any one at his public receptions. " On the national fete days, the commencement of the levee was announced by the firing of a salute from a pair of twelve-pounders stationed not far dis- tant from the Presidential mansion ; and the ex-Com- mander-in-chief paid his former companions in arms the compliments to wear the old continental uniform." The grandchildren of Mrs. AVashington were her only companions during the President's long absences in his office ; and Mrs. Robert Morris was the most social visitor at the mansion. Several times mention is made of her presence at the side of Mrs. Washington dur- ing the presentations at the receptions. And at all the dinners by the republican Chief Magistrate, the venerable Robert Morris took precedence of every other guest, invariably conducting Mrs. Washington, and sitting at her right hand. At this, the meridian period of her life, Mrs. Washington's personal appear- ance was, although somewhat portly in person, fresh and of an as-reeable countenance. She had been a handsome woman thirty years before, when, on the t)th of January, 1759, she was married to Colonel Washington ; and in an admirable picture of her by Woolastoii, painted about the same time, we see some- THE DIGNITY OBSERVED BY THE PRESIDENT. 87 thing of that pleasing grace wbicli is said to have been her distinction. During these years of her mar- ried life, she had enjoyed ample opportunity to culti- vate that elegance of manner for which she was con- spicuous, and to develop those conversational powers which rendered her so attractive. Washington, ever quiet and taciturn, depended on her ; and her tact and gentle womanly politeness relieved him from the irksome duties of hospitality Avhen business called him elsewhere. His first levee, the Marchioness D'Yuro wrote to a friend in New York, was brilliant beyond any thing that coukl be imagined. She adds : You never could have had such a drawing- room ; and though there was a great deal of extrava- gance, there was so much of Philadelphia tact in every- thing, that it must have been confessed the most de- lio'htful occasion of the kind ever known in this coun- Mrs. Washington at this time was fifty-eight years old ; but her healthful, rational habits, and the cease- less influence of the principles by which her life was habitually regulated, enabled her still to exhibit un- diminished her characteristic activity, usefulness, and cheerfulness. From the " Recollections " of a daug-h- o ter of Mrs. Binney, who resided opposite the Presi- dent's house, we have some interesting accounts. She says : " It was the General's custom frequently, when the day was fine, to come out to walk attended by his secretaries^, Mr. Lear and Major Jackson. He always crossed directly over from his own door to the sunny side of the street, and walked down." She never 38 MARTHA WASHINGTON. observed tliem conversing, and often wondered and watclied as a child to see if any of tlie party spoke, but never perceived that any thing was said. He was always dressed in black, and all three wore cocked hats. " It was Mrs. Washington's custom to return visits on the third day, and in calling on her mother, she would send a footman over, ^ who would knock loudly and announce Mrs. Washington, who would then come over with Mr. Lear." " Her manners were very easy, pleasant, and unceremonious, with the char- acteristics of other Viroinia ladies." An Eno:lish manufacturer breakfasted with the President's family on the 8th of June, 1*794. "I confess," he says, "I was struck with awe and veneration when I recollect- ed that I was now in the presence of the great W^ash- ington, ' the noble and wise benefactor of the world,' as Mirabeau styles him. The President seemed very thoughtful, and was slow in delivering himself, which induced some to believe him reserved. But it was rather, I apprehend, the result of much reflection ; for he had, to me, an appearance of affability and accom- modation. He was at this time in his sixty-third year, but had very little the appearance of age, hav- ing been all his life so exceedingly temperate. Mrs. Washington herself made tea and coffee for us. On the table were two small plates of sliced tongue, and dry toast, bread and butter, but no broiled fish, as is the general custom here. She struck me as being something older than the President, though I under- stand they were liotli born the same year. She was extremely simple in her dress, and wore a very plain cai), with her gray hair turned up under it." EETUKNING TO PKIVATE LIFE. 39 Eight years of prosperity and progression blessed the administration of Washington, and now the hour of departure was drawing near. With feelings of pleasure, Mrs. Washington prepared for the long-de- sired return to her home on the Potomac ; and when the dauntless robins began to sing and hardy daisies to bloom, tlie family set out, accompanied by the son of General Lafayette. Once again the wife and grand- mother assumed the duties congenial to her nature, and it was reasonable to hope that she might pass many years of tranquil, unalloyed happiness under her own vine and fig-tree. The old life was resumed, and the long-silent house echoed the voices of the young and happy. It was during this season of rest and quiet that Washington devoted much of his time to the planning and laying out of the city which bears his name. An account is given of his coming, on one occasion, fo it, and when he reached the wharf the cannon pealed forth a welcome. Passing along the Georgetown road, he halted in front of the place desig- nated as the " White House," so called in honor of the former home of his wife, and intended as a resi- dence for the President ; workmen were then laying the foundation of the building afterward burned. He was deeply interested in the welfare of the chosen seat of the government, and an amusing anecdote is related of his conference with David Burns, whose residence was on the ground south of the Presidential mansion, and was until recently standing. Washing- ton alludes to him in one of his letters as the " obsti- nate Mr. Burns ; " and it is related that, when the 40 MAETIIA WASHINGTON. President wa,s dwelling upon the advantage he would derive from the sale, the old man replied, " I suppose you think peoj)le here are going to take every grist that comes from you as pure grain ; l)ut what would you have been if you hadn't married the widow Cus- tis ? " Mount Vernon was constantly thronged with visit ors ; and to the " Correspondence of Washington," which, during these last two years of bis life, are very voluminous, we are indebted for many items of public and private interest. But a blow was in store for the contented wife, which none suspected. A cold, taken after a long ride about the farm, produced fever and swelling of the throat, which, on the 14th of Decem- ber, 1799, resulted in the death of the deej^ly -loved husband. A wail of anguish went up from the na- tion as the direful news flew by each hut and hamlet; but in that hallowed room, forever consecrated, the brave woman who has lost hei' all, sits calmly serene. She suspects that he is gone, for the doctor and Mr. Lear are gazing at each other in mute anguish ; and rising from her low seat at the foot of his bed, she sees the limbs are composed and the breath gone. O agony ! what is there so fearful to a clinging woman's heart as the strong, loving arm that enfolded her, cold and stiff forever. The cover is straightened as he fixed it, and his face is composed after the vio- lent struggle ; but what is this appearance of triumph to the desolate widowed being, who gasps for breath like one drowning, as she totters to his side ? But the sweet features calm her ; perhaps she is thinking A nation's sympathy. 41 of how he would have her do if his spirit could only speak. Whatever of inward peace receiving, there ia a determined effort at control perceptible, and she is saying, " 'Tis well ; all is now over. I shall soon fol- low him. I have no more trials to pass through." One long look, as if her hungry soul was obtaining food to feed on through all eternity, and she is assist- ed from the room. How full of holy memories must that chamber of death have been to her as she sum- moned courage to tuini and drink in the last look. The great fireside, with the smouldering embers dying into ashes gray — the quaint old mantle, all' covered with vials and appendages of a sick-apartment — their easy-chairs side by side, one deserted forever, and cruel sight to the ^^itiful sufferer — their bed, upon which lay her friend and companion for the last time. It was wrong to let her stand there and suffer so, but her awe-stricken appearance paralyzed the stoutest heart, and they only waited. A pale,' haggard look succeeds the fierce intensity of her gaze, and she wraps her shawl about her, and turns forever from all she in that hour lost. Another room receives her ; another fire is built for her ; and in the endless watches of that black night she masters the longings of her heart, and never more crossed the threshold of that chamber of her loved and lost. A sickening feeling of utter loneliness and desolation ushered in the early morn of the first day of her widowhood, but her resolve was made ; and when her loved ones saw it pained her, they urged her no more that she should go back to the Caaba of her heart. 42 MAETJIA WASHINGTON. "Congress resolved, that a marble monument be erected by the United States, in the Capitol at the city of Washington, and that the family of George Wash- ington 1 )e requested to permit his body to be deposited under it, and that the monument be so designed as to commemorate the great events of his military and political life. And it farther resolved, " That there be a funeral procession from Congress Hall to the German Lutlieran Church in honor of the memory of General George Washington, on Thursday the 26th inst., and that an oration be prepared at tlie request of Congress, to be delivered before both Houses on that day, and that the President of the Senate and Speaker of the House of Rej'>resentative3 be desired to request one of the members of Congress to prepare and deliver the same. And it further re- solved, " That the President of the United States be re- quested to direct a copy of the resolutions to be transmitted to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the profound respect Congress will ever bear to her person and character ; of their condolence on the late afflict- ing Dispensation of Providence, and entreating her assent to the interment of the Remains of General George Washington in the manner expressed in the first resolution. And it further Kesolved : " That the President of the United States be requested to issue a Proclamation notifying the People throughout the United States the recommendation contained in the third resolution." In reply to the above lesolutions which weie MOUNT VERNON" THE MONUMENT. 43 transmitted by the President (Jolin Adams) on tlie 23d Dec, 1799, Mrs. Washington says: " Mount Verxon, Dec. 31s^, 1799. " Sir : While I feel with keenest anguish the late dispensation of Divine Providence, I cannot be in sensible to the mournful tributes of respect and veneration which are paid to the memory of my dear, deceased husband, and as his best services and most anxious wishes were always devoted to the welfare and happiness of his country, to know that they were truly appreciated and gratefully remembered, aifords no inconsiderable consolation. " Tauglit by that great example which I have so long had before me, never to opj)ose my private wishes to the public will, I must consent to the request made by Congress which you have had the goodness to transmit to me, and in doing this I need not, I cannot say, what a sacrifice of individual feeling I make to a sense of public duty. " With grateful acknowledgments and unfeigned thanks for the personal respects and evidences of con- dolence expressed by Congress and yourself, " I remain, very respectfully, " Your most obedient and humble servant, '• Martha Washington.'" But this pain might have been spared her, for the monument was never erected, and the remains are Btill at Mount Vernon their most fitting resting-place. The twofold duties of life pressed constantly upon 44 MAKTIIA AN^ASinNGTON. her, nor did slie shirk any claim. Yet the compressed lip, and the ofttimes quivering eyelid betrayed the restless moanino^s of her acliino: heart. It has beeu remarked that she resembled Wash- ington in manners and person ; she was like him as every weaker nature is like a stronger one living in close relationship. She received from his stronger will his influences, and he impressed her with his views so thoroughly that she could not distinguish her own. Relying on his guidance in every thing, she studied his features until her softer lineaments imper- ceptibly grew like his, and the tones of her voice sounded wonderfully similar. Imbibing the senti- ments and teachings of such a nature, her own life was ennobled and his rendered happy. In the engraving we have before us, taken while in the Executive Mansion, we trace the gradual devel- opment of her life. All tbe way through it has counted more of bliss than of sorrow, and the calm contentment of the face in repose speaks of a heart full of peace and pleasantness. It is not the coun- tenance of a gay or sunny-liearted woman, nay, rather the well-reflected satisfaction of an inward faith in her religion, and confidence in and dependence on the hus- band in whom she had so long trusted. How full of sympathy and kindness of heart is that serene face, and how instinctively we would trust it ! Sustained as she was by her deep devotional piety, and shielded by the protecting arm of her husband, she grew in spirit- ual development and fondly believed herself strong and self-reliant. But when she was tested, when the HER HOME IDOLS BKOKElSr. 45 earthly support was removed, tlie inward strength was insufficient, and she pined under the loss until she died. "Few women have ever figured in the great drama of life amid scenes so varied and imposing, with so few faults and so many virtues as the subject of this sketch. Identified with the 'Father of his Country' in the great events which led to the establishment of a nation's independence, Mrs. Washington necessarily partook much of his thoughts, his councils, and his views. Often at his side in thos€ awful times that tried his soul, her cheerfulness soothed his anxieties, her firmness inspired confidence, while her devotional piety toward the Supreme Being enabled her to discern a ray of hope amid the darkness of a horizon clouded by despair." She had lived through the "five grand acts of the drama of American Independence, '' had witnessed its prelude and its closing tableaux, and stood waiting to iiear the swell of the pean she was yet to sing in heaven. Her life was passed in seasons of dark- ness, as of glorious, refulgent liappiness, and was con- temporaneous with some of the greatest minds that will ever shine out from any century. Her sphere was limited entirely to social occupations, and possessing wealth and position she gratified her taste. Had her character been a decided one, it would have stamped the age in which she flourished, for, as there never was but one Washington, so there will never come a time when there will be the same opportunities as Mrs. Washington had for winning a name and an individu- vility. But she did not aspire to any nobler ambition 46 MARTHA WASHINGTON. than merely to perform the duties of her home, and she lives in the memories of her descendants, and in the hearts of the people of the United States, as the wife of the illustrious Father of his Country, and the first in position of the women of the Revolution. The death of her husband was the last event of Mrs. Washington's life. It shattered her nerves and broke her heart. She never recovered from it. The shaft of agony which had buried itself in her soul was never removed. Fate had now dealt the last deadly blow to the earthly happiness of Mrs. Washington ! Her children, their father, the faithful, affectionate, sympathizing friend and counsellor with whom through unnumbered years she had stood side l)y side in many and grievous trials, dangers, and sorrows — all were gone ! It was useless to strive to be courageous, a glance at the low, narrow vault under the side of the hill unnerved her. She stood, the desolate survivor, like a lone sentinel upon a deserted battle-field, regard- ing in mute despair the fatal destruction of hope, and love, and joy. Through all time that Saturday night would be the closing scene of her life, even though her existence should be lengthened to a span of years. " The memory of his faintest tone, In the deep midnight came npon her soul, And cheered the passing hours so sad, so lone, As on they rolled." Without religious faith she would have been haughty, reserved, and indolent, and with a less noble husband could never liave been as even-tempered and concilia A LIFE OF LOVE. 47 tory as slie was. But all of life was love to ber ; and all of our memory of her is beautiful harmony. Thirty months numbered themselves among eter- nity's uncounted years, and it became apparent to all that another death-scene was to be enacted, and the lonely occupant of the room above that other chamber of dissolution, was reaching the goal of its long hoped- for desire. The gentle spirit was panting to free it- self, and the glad light in the dim eye asserted the pleasure experienced in the knowledge of the coming change. For many months Mrs. Washington had been growing more gloomy and silent than ever before, and the friends who gathered about her called her actions strange and incomprehensible. Slie staid much alone, and declined every ofter of company, but toward the last the truth flashed upon her that she, too, was going, and her heart grew young again. Blessing all about her, she sank quietly to rest, in the seventy-first year of her age, and the third of her widowhood. '' In the spring of 1801, Martha Washington descended to the grave, cheered by the prospect of a blessed immortality, and mourned by the millions of a mighty empire." Her resting-place beside her husband is, like Mecca and Jerusalem, the resort of the travellers of all na- tions, who, wandering in its hallowed precincts, imbibe anew admiration and veneration for the immortal ge- nius, whose name is traced in imperishable remem- brance in the hearts of his grateful countrymen. Side by side their bodies lie crumbling away, while their 48 MAKTIIA "WASHINGTON". spirits, through all the ramificniions of an eternal fu- ture, "wend their wa}^ to the Author and Source of their being. The placid Potomac kisses the banks of that precious domain, while the ripples of the reced- ing tide utter a mournful sound as it quits the side of the stream, hallowed forevei*. The temptation to see this historic and romantic home of the most beloved of the nation's dead "was not to be resisted, and in company with one of the few surviving relatives who bears that honored name, we started to the steamer. Although the weather was cold and disagreeable, with a threatening aspect of a snow-storm, we found the little vessel filled with pil- grims, bound to the tomb of Washington. This trip is one of intense interest, and particularly since the events of the late war have given to all the locality additional attraction. Arlington, Alexandria, and Fort Washington ! what memories are stirred by mention of these names, and the remembrance is acute when we stand face to face with such objects. Alexandria, wjth its old moss-covered houses and ancient gnarled trees, visibly impresses one with its claims to respect. The old commonwealth is dear to every generous American, whether of northern or southern birth, but more espe- cially to the pe'-^ple of the south whose ancestors fond- ly termed it the " motherland," and the refrain of whose song was " Ho-w dear to this lieart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view I The orchard, the meadow, tlie deep-tangled wild-wood And every loved spot which uiy infancy knew 1 A AaSlT TO AIOUNT VEKNON. 49 The wide-spreading pcml, and the mill that stood hy it. The briilge, and the. rock, wliere the catnract fell. The cot of my fnthor, the dairy-houso nigh it, And e'en the rude hucket tliat hung in the well." Far up the narrow quiet streets I lo )ked, and discern- ed in the distance a veritable oscillating arm of a well, and fancy quickly a-lded the " old oaken bucket, the iron bound bucket, wliich hung in the well.'^ Ifc wa? the venerable look of the place which appealed strong- est to the senses, and the fact that it is long past a cen- tury old, its foundation having been laid in 17-i8. As the boat anchored at the wharf to put off passengers, I gazed wistfully up those streets through which Washington had often passed, and looked in vain to see some " vast and venerable pile, so old it seemed only not to fall," but the residences of mo3t of tJie old inhabitants are the al^odes of wealth, and they exhibit evidences of care and preservation. Alexandria was early a place of some note, for Cve colonial governors met here by appointment, in 1755, to take measures with General Braddock respecting his expedition to the West. " That expedition proceeded from Alexandria, and tradition still points to the site on which now stands the olden Episcopal Church (but then, in the woods), as the spot where he pitched his tent, while the road over the western hills by which his army withdrew, long bore the name of this unfoi-- tunate commander. But the reminiscences which the Alexandrians most cherish are those which associate their town with the domestic attachments and hal^its of Washington, and the stranger is still painted to the 3 50 MAETIIA WASHINGTON. cliiu'cli of wbicli lie was vestryman ; to the pew in whicli lie customarily sate ; and many sti'iking memo, rials of his varied life are carefully preserved." That old chui'ch where Washington and his wife were wont to worship, how tenderly we look upon it, and with what hallowed feelings ! All the common- place thoughts that fill our minds every day are laid aside, while we contemplate the character of the man who has stamped his image in the hearts of freemen throuo-hont the world. There is another church at which one feels these ennobling heart-throbs, and which I confess moved me as sensibly, and that is the little Dutch church in "Sleepy Hollow," once the shrine at which Washington Irving offered the adora- tion of his guileless heart. His beautifully expressed admiration of Washington possibly occasioned the con- stant comparison, and to me these two temples are as inseparable as the memories of these great men are linked. The 'weather, which had been indicative all day of a storm, cleared off as we approached Mount Vernon, and as we were leaving the boat, it shone brightly upon us. Winding round the hill, following a narrow pathway, we leached the tomb before the persons who had taken the carriage-way came in view, but prefer- ling to examine it last, that we might be more careful, we continued the meandering path to the front of the liouse. It had been the home, in early youth, of the person who accompanied us, and, listening to her ex- planations and descriptions, we felt an interest which we could not otherwise summon. The house is bare HALLOWED ASSOCIATIOISrS. 51 of any furniture whatever, save a small quantity owned by the persons who live there, and on a winter's day looked cheerless and uninviting. " The central part of Mount Vernon house was built by Lawrence Wash- ington, brother to the General ; the wings were ad- ded )>y the General, and the whole named after Admi- ral Vernon, under whom Lawi'ence Washington had served." The dining-room on the right contains the Italian marble mantle-piece sent from Italy to General Washington. I feel ashamed to add, it is cased in wire-work to prevent its being demolished by in- judicious, not to say criminal visitors. The rooms are not large, with the exception of the one mentioned above, which is spacious ; the quaint, old wainscoting and wrought cornices are curious, and in harmony with the adornments of the mausiou. "The whole house presents a curious spectacle. Every thing reminds one of forme]' days; and in treading the halls of Mount Ver- non, the mind reverts incessantly to that majestic form, whose shadow, cast upon those very walls, seems to the mind's eye ready to start before us into life," The piazza reaches from the ground to the eaves, of the roof, and is guarded on the top by a bright and taste- ful balustrade ; the pillars are large and present a sim» pie and grand idea to the mind. Beneath tliis porch the Father of his Country was accustomed to walk, and the ancient stones, to hearts of enthusiasm, are full of deep and meditative interest. The room in which he died is small and now be- reft of every thing save the mantle-piece; just above is the apartment in which she breathed her dying 52 MARTHA WASIIIISGTOJS". blessing. A narrow stair-case leads from the door of liis room, wliicli was never entered by her after hig deatli. The greeu-hoiise, once the pride of Mrs. Washington, has since been burned, and there remains but a very small one, put together carelessly to pro- tect the few rare plants remaining. In front of the house (I speak of the fronts facing the orchards, and not the river, each of which are alike very beautiful), is a spacious lawn surrounded by serpentine walks. On either side, brick walls, all covered with ivy and ancient moss, enclose gardens. The one on the right of the house was once filled with costly ornamental plants from the tropical climes, and in which was the green- house ; but the box trees have o-rowu hiijh and irresfu- iar, and the creepers are running wild over what hardy rose bushes still survive to tell of a past existence of care and beauty. In the life-time of Mrs. Washington, her home must have been very beautiful, "ere yet time''s effacing fingers had traced the lines where beauty lingered." It is even now a splendid old place, but rapidly losing the interest it once had. The estate has passed out of the family, and the furniture has been removed by descendants, to whom it was given : much that lent a charm to the place is gone, and the only in- teresting object, save the interior of the mansion itself, is the key of the Bastile, presented by Lafayette, and hanging in a case on the wall. Portions of the house are closed, and the stairway in the front hall is barri- caded to prevent the intrusion of visitors. The room in which Mrs. Washington died, just above the one occupied by her husband, was locked, and Ave did not MEMOKIES OF THE PxVST. 53 view tlie room in wliicli slie suffered so silently, ancl from which her freed spirit sought its friend and mate. The small windows and low ceilings, together wnth the many little closets and dark passage-ways, strike one strangely who is accustomed to the mansions of modern times ; but these old homesteads are numerous throughout the " Old Dominion," and are the most precious of worldly possessions to the descendants of worthy families. There must be more than twenty apartments, most of them small and plain in finish. The narrow doors and wide fire-places are the ensigns of a past age and many years of change, but are elo- quent in their obsoleteness. The library which ordinarily is the most interest ing room in any house, should be doubly so in this home of Washington's; but, bare of all save the empty cases in the w^^Jl, it is the gloomiest of all. Books all gone, and the occupation of the room by the present residents deprives it of any attractions it might other- wise have. Here, early in the morning and late at night, he worked continuously, keeping up his increas- ing correspondence and- managing his vast respon- sibilities. Murmurs of another war reached him as he sat at his table planning rural improvements, and from this room he wrote accepting the position no other could fill while he lived. Here death found him, the night before his last illness, when cold and hoarse he came in from his long ride, and warmed himself by his library fire. That night he went up to his room over this favorite study, 54 MAKTIIA WASHINGTON. and said iu reply to a member of his family as he passed out, who urged him to do something for it, " No, you kno w I never take any thing for a cold. Let it go as it came." The winds and rains of sixty-eight years have beaten upon that sacred home on the high banks of the silvery waters beneath, since the widowed, weary wife was laid to rest beside her noble dead, and the snows of winter and storms of summer have left its weather-worn and stained front lookino' like some ghost of other days left alone to tell of its former life and beauty. In its lonely grandeur it stands appeal- ing to us for that reverence born of sentiments, stirred by the recollections of the great and good. I could not resist the feelings of gloomy depression as we passed out the front toward the river, and took the path leading to the tomb. Far down the side of the hill, perched on a knoll and surrounded by trees, I saw a summer-house and the walk leading by many angles down to it. The view of the river is said to be fine from this point, but we did not undertake the difficulties of getting to it. The wooden steps constructed across the ravines are fast sinking to ruin, and the swollen stream from the side of the hill dash- ing against them, was distinctly audible to us as we stood far above. The swallows and bats seemed to have built their nests in its forsaken interior, and we were not inclined to molest them. I looked back at the old homestead endeared to every American, and stamped upon memory each portion of its outlines. MOUNT VERNON AND WOOLFOKt's KOOST. 55 High, above me, the small cupalo sported its little glittering weather-vane as brilliant as though it had been gilded but yesterday. Plere again was an object which unconsciously associated Washington with his namesake, Washington Irving. In the pleasant sum- mer-time I had stood in front of the little " Wool fort's Roost," and enjoyed to the finest fibre of my nature its lovely simplicity. Above it, too, a little weather-cock coquetted with the wind as it swept down fi'ora Tap- pan Zee, the same said to have been carefully removed from the Vander Hayden palace at Albany, and placed there by tender hands long years ago. Upon the side of the hill I had stopped then as now, and looked back at the house above me, embosomed in vines inter- spersed with delicately tinted fuchsias. Even as I was standing now looking for the first and perhaps the last time upon Mount Vernon, so in the beautiful harvest month I had gazed upon the Hudson spread out like a vast panorama with its graceful yachts and swift schooners, and descended the winding path to the water's edge. But Mount Vernon was dressed in winter's dreariness, and its desolate silence oppressed rather than elevated the feelings. It is a fit place for meditation and communion, and to a spiritual nature the influences of the ancient home are elevating and full of harmony. When the only ap- proach was by conveyance from Alexandria, the visi- tors were not so numerous as since the days of a daily steamer from Vfashington City, and much of the solemnity usually felt for so renowned a spot is marred by the coarse remark and thoughtless acts of the mau}^ who saunter through the grounds. 56 JIAIITIIA WASIIIJSTGTOj^f. A gay party of idlers liiid arranged tlieir eatables upon the stone steps of the piazza, and sat in the sun shine laughing merrily. Even those old rocks smoothly worn, whei-e so often had stood the greatest of men, were not hallowed nor protected from the selfish con- venience of unrefined people. Callous, indeed, must be the heart which could walk unmoved through so endeared a scene. To tread the haunts where " men have thought and acted great " is ennobling to sensi- tive 02'gauizations, and to linger over evidences of olden times inspires all generous minds with enthu- siasm. The grounds roll downward from the mansion house, and in a green hollow midway between that and the river, and about one hundred and fifty yards west from the summer house, and thirty rods from the house is the vault where reposed the remains of Wash- ington and Martha his wife. Now the tomb contains about thirty members of his family, and is sealed up, and in front of the main vault, enclosed by an iron railing, are the two sarcophagi containing the ashes of husband and wife. " A melancholy glory kindles around that cold pile of marble," and we stood mute in thought. But before reaching it we pass the old vault where for a few years he was buried. The few cedars on it are ^vithered and the door stands open, presenting a desolate appearance. With vines and flowers, and leafy trees filled with singing birds, this sight would perhaps be less chilling ; but the barren aspects of nature united with the solemn stillness of the country, con- LAFAYETTIG AT 'I'lIK TOMB OF WArtUINGTOJM". o7 spired to fveozo everj^ tlionghi of life and 1)eauf;y, and the mind dw^clt upon tlie rust of decay. Lafayette stopped at Mount Vernon when about to return to France after his visit to this country, in 1820, having reserved for the hist liis visit to Wasliiiigton's Toni1), and tlic scene is thus described ])y Mr. Seward in his Life of John Quincy Adams : " When the boat came opposite the tomi) of Wash- ington, at Mount Vernon, it pnused in its progress, Lafayette arose. The wonders whicli he had per- foriiied for a man of his age, in successfully acconi- ])lishing labors enougli to have tested his meridian vigor, wlioso animation rather resembled the spring \]u\n the winter of life, now seemed unequal to the tnslc he was about to perform — to take a last look at ' The Tomb of Washington ! ' " He advanced to the effort. A silence the most impressive reigned around, till the strains of sweet and plaintive music completed the grandeur and sacred solemnity of the scene. All Iiearts beat in unison with the throbbings of the veteran's bosom, as he looked for the last time on the sepulchre which con- tained the ashes of tlie first of men ! He si)oke not, but ai)peared absorbed in the mighty recoUectiona which the place and the occasion inspired." During the summer of 1860, Albert, Prince of Wales, and heir apparent to the Throne of England, visited, m company with President Buchanan, tlie tomb of Washington. Here amid the gorgeous beau- ties of a southern summer, the grandson of George the Third forgot his royalty in th(3 presence of departed 58 MARTHA WASHINGTON. ■\voi'tli ; and l)ent liis knee in awe before ci mere hand- ful of aslies, wliicb, but for the cold marble encom- passing them, would be blown to the four winds of the earth. It was a stran<;>:e siofht to see that brio-ht youthful form kneeling before the tomb of the Fa- ther of his Country, and attesting his appreciation of the great spirit which more than any other wrested its broad domains from him. But a strono-er link than mere possessions animated the feelings, and bound that royal scion to the Patriot's grave. Love of Liberty was the magic wand ^vhich kindled in the breast of the stranger adoration for the memor}'' of the departed, and when he turned to leave that place of sacredness, eyes not always used to weeping, were moist with fnlliuo: tears. Steal tliily the years go by, and we wist not they are passing, yet the muffled and hoarse voice of a cen- tury astounds us with its parting. The centennial birthdays have been celebrated ; soon we approach the hundredth anniversary of victories won and inde- pendence achieved. If the glad, free spirits of the Chief and his companion are permitted to review their earthly pilgrimage, let it be -a source of gratification to us to know they smile npon a Bepublic of peace. Their bodies we guard, while they crumbled away in the bosom of their birth-place, and as long as a son of America remains a freeman, it will be a well-spring of inspiration to feel that Virginia contains the Paler' PatricB and the woman immortalized by Iiis love. A . a nonj 11. ABIGAIL ADAMS. Abigail Smith, tlie daiigliter of a New England Congregationalist minister, was born at Weymouth, in 1744. Tier fotliei* was the settled pastor of that place for more than forty years, and her grandfather was also a minister of the same denomination in a neigh- boring town. The younger years of her life were passed in the quiet seclusion of her grandfather's house ; and under the instructions of her grandmother, she imbibed most of the lessons which were the most deeply impressed upon her mind. " I have not forgotten," she says in a letter to her own daughter, in the year 1795, "the excellent lessons which I received from my grand- mother at a very early period of life ; I frequently think they made a more durable impression upon my mind than those which I received from my own parents."' This tribute is due to the memory of those virtues, the sweet remembrance of which will flourish, though she has long slept with her ancestors. Separated from the young membei-s of her own family, and never subjected to the ordinary school routine, her imaginative faculties bid fair to develop at the expense of her judgment, but the austere religion of her ancestors, and tlie daily exanqDle of strict com- pliance to forms, forbade the too great indulgence of fancy. " Slie liad many relations both on the father's GO ABIGAIL ADAMS. and motlier's side, and with tliese she was upon a? intimate terras as circnmstanees would allow. The distances l)et\yeeu the homes of the young people was, however, too great, and the means of their parents too narrow, to admit of very frequent personal intercourse, the substitute for which was a i*apid interchange of writ- ten communication." " The women of the last century,'^ observes ^ir. Charles Francis Adams in his memoir of his grandmother, " were more remarkable for their letter-writing propensities, than the novel-reading and mo]'e pretending daughters of this era : their field was larger, and the stirring events of the times made it an object of more interest. Now, the close connec- tion between all parts of this country, and rapid means of transraittino' iutellio-ence throuerh the medium of telegraphs and newspapers, renders the slower process of writing letters unnecessary, save in instances of private imj)ortauce. The frugal habits of the sparsely settled country afforded little material for the fashion- able chit-chat which forms so large a part of the social life of to-day, and the limited education of woman was another drawback to the indulgence of a pleasure in which they really excelled. Upon what, then, do we base the assertion that they were remarkable for their habits of writing. Even though self-taught, the young ladies of Massachusetts were certainly readers, and their taste was not for the feeble and nerveless sentiments, but was derived from the deepest wells of English literature. Almost every house in the Colony possessed some old heir-looms in the shape of standard books, even if the number was limited to the Bible EAllLY EDUCATIOIC. Gl and dictionary. Many, especially minister?, could dis- play relics of their English ancestors' intelligence in the libraries handed down to them, and the study of their contents was evident in many of the grave cor- respondences of that early time."" To learning, in the ordinary sense of that term, she could make no claim. She did not enjoy an opportunity to acquire even such as there might have been, for the delicate state of her health forbade the idea of sending her away from home to obtain them. In speaking of her deficiencies, the year before her death, she says : " My early education did not partake of the abundant opportunity which the present day oifers, and which even our common coun- try schools now afford. I never ivas sent to any school^ I was always sick." Although Massachusetts ranked then, as it does now, first in point of educational facili- ties, it is certainly remarkable that the woman received such entire neglect. '' It is not im]3ossible," adds Mr. Adams, " that the early example of Mrs. Hutchison, and the difficulties in which the public exercise of her gifts involved the Colony, had established in the i)ub- lic mind a conviction of the danger that may attend the meddling of women with abstruse points of doc- trine ; and these, however they might confound the strongest intellects, were nevertheless the favorite topics of thought and discussion in that generation." While the sons of a family received every possible advantage compatible with the means of the father, the daughter's interest, as far as mental development was concerned, was ignored. To aid the mother in manual household labor, and by self-denial jind in- 62 ABIGAIL ADAMS. creased industry to forward the welfare of the brothers, was the most exalted height to which any woman as- pired. To woman there was then no career open, no life-work to perform outside the narrow walls of home. Every idea of self-culture was swallowed np in the wearying routine of practical life, and what of knowl- edge they obtained, was from the society of the learned, and the eagerness with .which they treasured and considered the conversations of others. On the 20th of October, 1764, Abigail Smith was married to John Adams. She was at the time twenty years old. The match, although a suitable one in many respects, was not considered brilliant, since her ancestors were amous; the most noted of the best class of their day, and he was the son of a farmer of limited means, and as yet a lawyer without practice. " Mrs. Adams was the second of three daughters, whose char- acters were alike strong and remarkable for their intellectual force. The fortunes of two of them con- fined its influence to a sphere much more limited than that which fell to the lot of Mrs. Adams. Mary, the eldest, was married in 1762 to Hichard Cranch, au English emigrant, who subsequently became a Judge of the Court of Common Pleas in Massachusetts. Elizabeth, the youngest, was twice married ; first to thej Reverend John Shaw, minister of Haverhill, and after his death, to theKeverend Mr. Peabody of New Hamp- shire."" * * * « j,^ ^ colony founded so exclusively upon motives of religious zeal as IMassachnsetts was, it necessarily followed that the ordinary distinctions of society were in a great degree subverted, and that the THE MIISTISTEr's SUPERIORITY. 63 leaders of the cLnrcli, tlioiigli without worhlly posses^^ sions to boast of, were the most in honor everywhere. If a festive entertainment was meditated, the minister was sure to be first on tlie list of those invited. If any assembly of citizens was hekl, he must be there to open the business with prayer. If a political measure was in agitation, he was among the first whose opinions was to be consulted. He was not infrequently the family physician. Hence the objection to Mr. Adams by her friends w\as founded on the fact that she was the daughter and grand-daughter of a minister, and his social superior according to the opinions of zealous Christians, whose prejudices were extreme toward a calling they deemed hardly honest. Ten years of quiet home life succeeded her mar- riage, during which time little transpired worthy of record. " She appears to have- passed an apparently very happy life, having her residence in Braiutree, or in Boston, according as the state of her husband's health, then rather impaired, or that of his professional practice, made the change advisable. Within this period she became the mother of a danghter and of three sons." " Mr. Adams was elected one of the delegates on the part of Massachusetts, instructed to meet persons cho- sen in the same manner from the other Colonies, for the purpose of consulting in common upon the course most advisable to be adopted by them." In the month of August, 1774, he left home in company with Sam- uel Adams, Thomas Cushings, and Robert Treat Paine, to go to Philadelphia, at which place the proposed 64 ABIGAIL ADAMS. assembly was to be lielcl." In two montlis, Mr. Adams was home again. Congress met again in May, 17 75, and Mr. Adams returned to Philadelphia to attend it. The long distance was traversed on horseback, and was replete with hardships. At Hartford he heard of the memorable incident at Lexington, only five days after his departure from Braintree. Up to this time, the trouble between the two countries had been a dis- pute, henceforth it resolved itself into open hostilities. "In November, 1*775," says Bancroft, ''Al)igail Smith, t]]e wife of John Adams, was at her home near the foot of Penn Hill, charged with the sole care of their little brood of children ; managing their farm ; keeping house with frugality, though opening her doors to the houseless, and giving with good will a part of her scant portion to the poor ; seeking work for her own hands, and ever busily occupied, now at the spinning wheel, now makinsr amends for havins: never lieen sent to school by learning French, though with the aid of books alone. Since the departure of her husband for Con- gress, the arrow of death had sped near her by day, and the pestilence that walks in darkness had entered her humble mansion. She herself was still weak after a violent illness ; her house was a iiospital in every part ; and such was the distress of the neighborhood, she could hardly find a well person to assist in looking after the sick. Her youngest son had been rescued from the grave by her nursing. Her own mother had been taken away, and after the austere manner of her forefathers, buried without prayer. Woe followed woe, and one affliction trod on the heels of another. WORDS OF PATiaOTISM. 65 Winter was lmrr3dDg on ; during tlie day family af- fairs took off her attention, but her lono- evenino's, broken by the sound of the storm on the ocean, or the enemy's artillery at Boston, wei-e lonesome and melan- choly. Ever in the silent night ruminating on the love and tenderness of her departed parent, she need- ed the consolation of her husbands presence ; but when she read the king's proclamation, she willingly gave up her nearest friend exclusively to his perilous duties, and sent him her cheering message : " This in- telligence will make a plain path for you, though a dangerous one. I could not join to-day in the petitions of our worty pastor for a reconciliation between our no longer pju^ent state, but tyrant state and these colonies. Let us separate ; they are unworthy to be our brethren. Let us renounce them ; and instead of supplications, as formerly, for their prosperity and happiness, let us beseech the Almighty to blast their counsels and bring to naught all their devices." Such words of patriotism falling from the lips of a woman who had just buried three members of her household, one her own mother, and who was alone with her four little children within sight of the can- nonading at Boston, discovers a mind strong, and a 1 spirit fearless and brave under scenes of harrowing distress. Now she was alone, and she writes to her husband, " the desolation of war is not so distressino; as the havoc made by the pestilence. Some poor parents are mourniwg the loss of three, four, and five children, and some families are wholly stripped of every mem- 6(j ABIGAIL ADAMS. ber," December found Mr. Adams once more at home to cheer his sufferino; family, but Con<2fress demanded his presence, and after a stay of one month, he re« turned asraiu to the halls of the nation. March came^ and her anxious solitary life was in no wise brightened. The distance, in those days of slow travel and bad I'oads, from Boston to Philadelphia was immense, and letters were precious articles hard to receive. In speaking of the anticipated attack on Boston, she says : " It has been said to-morrow and to-morrow ; but when the dreadful to-morrow will be I know not." Yet even as she wrote, the first peal of the American guns rang out their dissonance on the chilling night winds, and the house shook and trembled from cellar to garret. It was no time for calm thoughts now, and she left her letter unfinished to o;o out and watch the lurid lights that flashed and disappeared in the dis- tance. Next morning she walked to Peun's Hill, where she sat listening to the amazing roar, and watch- ing the British shells as they fell round about the camjis of her friends. Her home at the foot of the hill was all her earthly wealth, and the careful hus- banding of each years' crop her only income ; yet while she ever and anon cast her eye upon it, the thoughts that welled into words were not of selfish repiniugs, but of proud expressions of high-souled patriotism. "The cannonade is from our army," she continues, " and the sight is one of the grandest in nature, and is of the true species of the suldime. 'Tis now an in- cessant roar. To-night we shall realize a more terrible scene still ; I wish myself w^ith you out of hearing, as MEETING AND PARTING. 67 T cannot assist them, but 1 hope to give yon joy ot Boston, even if it is in rnins before I send this away." But events were not ordered as she feared, and the result was more glorious than she dared hope. Ar the summer the army lay encamped around Boston, and in early Fall her husband came home again, after'^ an absence of nearly a year. Yet his coming brought her no joy, since it was to announce the sad truth that he had been chosen to go to France. Could he take his wife and little ones, was the oft-recurring question. A small and not very good vessel had been ordered to take him, the British fleet knew this, and were on the watch to capture it. On every account it was deemed best he should go alone, but concluded to take his eldest son, John Quincy Adams, to bear him company, and in February, 1778, sailed for Europe. The loneliness of the faithful wife can hardly be understood by those unacquainted with the horrors of "war. Yet doubtless there are many, very many, who in the dark gloom of the past strife can record similar feelings of agony, and can trace a parallel in the soli- tary musings of this brave matron. The ordinary occupations of the female sex have ever confined them to a very limited sphere, and there is seldom an occa- sion. T»vhen they can with propriety extend their exer- tions beyond the don:iestic hearth. Only through the imagination can she give unlimited scope to those powers which the world until recently has never understood, and which are even now but dimly de- fined. Had mankind given her the privileges of a liberal education, and freedom to carve her own des- 68 ABIGAIL ADAMS. tiny, to wliat dazzling beiglits would a mind so natii. rally gifted as Mrs. Adams have attained ? CirciriU' scribed as her lot was, she has left upon the pages of history an enviable record, and while Americans forget not to do honor to her hus]>and's zeal and greatness, her memory lends a richer perfume, and sheds a radiance round the incidents of a life upon which she wielded so beneficial an influence. Ofttimes weather-bound and compelled to remain in* doors for days, with no society save her child i en and domestics, it is not strange that she should be lonely. Nor could her mind dwell upon any pleasing anticipa- tions for the future. Her husband three thousand miles away, a hostile army encompassing the country, poor and forlorn, she yet so managed and controlled her little estate, that it served to support her, and in old age, to prove the happy asylum of her honored family. Mr. Adams knew her exposed condition, yet trusted to her judgment to protect herself and little ones. On a former occasion he had written to her " in case of danger to fly to the woods,'* and now he could only reiterate the same advice, at the same time feeling that she was strong and resolute to sustain herself. Six months passed, and Mrs. Adams writes to him, " I have never received a syllable from you or my dear son, and it is five months since I had an oppor- tunity of conveying a line to you. * * * Yet I know not but you are less a sufferer than you would be to hear from us, to know our distresses, and yet be un- able to relieve them. The universal cry for bread to a hu- mane heart is painful beyond description." Mr. Adama A MODEL LETTER-WRITEK. 69 retiu'iied to bis family after an absence of eighteen mouths, but no sooner was he established in liis happy home, than he was ordered to Great Britain to nego- tiate a peace. Two of his sons accompanied him on this trip. He went over night to Boston to embark early next day, and the sad heart left behind again, found re- lief in the following touching words: "■ My habitation, how disconsolate it looks ! my table, I sit down to it, but cannot swallow my food ! Oh, why was I born with so much sensibility, and why possessing it have I so often been called to struggle with it ? Were I sure you would not be gone, I could not withstand the tempta- tion of coming to town though my heart would suffer over again the cruel torture of separation." Soon after this time, she wrote to her eldest son in regard to his extreme reluctance at again crossing the ocean, and for its perspicuity and terseness, for the loftiness of its sentiments, and the sound logical advice in which it abounds, ranks itself among the first literary effusions of the century : " June, 1778. " My Dear Son : 'Tis almost four months since you left your native land and embarked udon the mighty waters in quest of a foreign country. Al- though I have not particularly written to you since, yet you may be assured you have constantly been upon ray heart and mind. " It is a very difficult task, my dear son, for a tender parent, to luring her mind to part with a child of your j^ears, going to a distant land ; nor could I have ao- 70 ABIGAIL ADA]\IS. quiesced in sucli a sej)aratioii under any other care tliaii that of the most excellent parent and guardian who accompanied you. You have arrived at years capable of improving under the advantages you will be likely to have, if you do but properly attend to them. They are talents put into your hands, of w^hich an account will be required of you hereafter ; and, being possessed of one, two, or four, see to it that you double your number. " The most amiable and most useful disposition in a young mind is diffidence of itself; and this should lead you to seek advice and instruction from him who is your natural guardian, and will always counsel and direct you in the best manner, both for your present and future happiness. You are in possession of a natural good understanding, and of spirits unbroken by adversity and untamed with care. Improve your understanding by acquiring useful knowledge and vir- tue, such as will render you an ornament to society, an honor to your country, and a blessing to your parents. Great learning and superior abilities, should you ever possess them, wdll be of little value and small estimation, unless virtue, honor, truth, and in- tegrity are added to them. Adhere to those religious sentiments and principles which were early instilled into your mind, and remember that you are account- able to your Maker for all your words and actions. Let me enjoin it upon you to attend constantly and steadfastly to the precepts and instructions of your father, as you value the happiness of your mother and your own wtilfare. His care and attention to you ren* THE CKIMES OF THE TIMES. 71 der many tilings unnecessary for me to write, wliicli I might otherwise do; but tlie inadvertency and heed- lessness of youth require line upon line and precept upon precept, and, when enforced by the joint effoi'ts of both parents, will, I hope, have a due influence upon your conduct ; for, dear as you are to me, I would much rather you should have found your grave in the ocean you have crossed, or that any untimely death crop you in your infant years, than see you an immoral, profligate, or graceless child. " You have entered early in life upon the great theatre of the world, which is full of temptations and vice of every hind. You are not wholly unacquaint- ed with history, in which you have read of crimes which your inexperienced mind could scarcely believe credible. You have been taua-ht to think of tliem o with horror, and to view vice as ' A monster of so frightful mien, That, to be hated, needs but to be seen.' Yet you must keep a strict guard upon yourself, or the odious monster will lose its terror by becoming familiar to you. The modern history of our own times furnishes as black a list of crimes as can be paralleled in ancient times, even if we go back to Nero, Caligula, Caesar Borgia. Young as you are, the cruel war into which we have been compelled by the haughty tyrant of Britain and the bloody 'emissaries of his vengeance, may stamp upon your mind this cer- tain ti'uth, that the welfare and prosperity of all coun- tries, communities, and, I may add, individuals, de- (2 ABIGAIL ADAMS. peiid upon their moi'iils. Tliat nation to whicli we were once united, as it has departed from justice, eluded and sul)verted the wise laws which formerly governed it, and suffered the w^orst of crimes to go unpunished, has lost its valor, wisdom, and humanity, and, from being the dread and terror of Europe, has sunk into derision and infamy. " But, to quit political subjects, I have been great- ly anxious for your safety, having never heard of the frigate since she sailed, till, about a week ago, a New York paper informed that she was taken and carried into Plymouth. I did not fully credit this report, though it gave me much uneasiness. I yesterday heard that a French vessel was arrived at Portsmouth, which brought news of the safe arrival of the Boston ; but this wants confirmation. I hope it will not be long before I shall be assured of your safety. You must vvi'ite me an account of your voyage, of your situation, and of every thing entertaining you can recollect. " Be assured, I am most affectionately " Your mother, Abigail Adams." The Government was organized under its present Constitution in April, 1789, and Mr. Adams was elected Vice-President. He esta1)lished himself in New York, and from there Mrs. Adams writes to hei sister, "that she would i-eturn to Braintree during the recess" of Congress, but the season of the year renders the attempt impracticable." She speaks of the drawing-rooms held l)y Mrs. Washington, and the many invitations she receives to entertainments. WASHINGTON AND THE SUGAE-PLUMS. 73 After a residence of one year in New York, the seat of government was removed to Philadelphia. She says in a letter to her daughter, " that she dined witli the President in company with the ministers and ladies of the court," and that " he asked very affectionately after ber and the children," and " at the table picked the sugar plums from a cake and requested me to take them for Master John." In February, 1797, Mr. Adams succeeded President Washington, and from Braintee she wrote one of the most beautiful of all her noble effusions : " The sun is dressed in brightest beams To give thy honors to the day. " And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each ensuing season. You have this daj?- to declare your- self head of a nation. ' And now, O Lord my God, thou hast made thy servant ruler over the people ; give unto him an understanding heart, that he may know how to go out and come in before this great peo- ple ; that he may discern between good and bad. For who is able to judge this thy so great a people : ' were the words of a royal sovereign, and not less applicable to him who is invested with the Chief Magistracy of a nation, though he wear not a crown nor the robes of royalty. My thoughts and my meditations are with you, though personally absent ; and my petitions to heaven are that ' the things which make for peace may not be hidden from your eyes.' My feelings are not those of pride or ostentation upon the occasion. They are solemnized b}' a sense of the obligations, the im- 4 74 ABIGAIL ADAMS. portaut trusts, and numerous duties connected with it. That you may be enabled to discharge them with honor to yourself, with justice and impartiality to your country, and with satisfaction to this great people, shall be the daily prayer of yours — ^" Soon as the funeral rites of Mrs. Adams, the ven- erable mother of President Adams, were performed, and the sad leave-takings over, Mrs. Adams set out to join her husband at Philadelphia, fi'om whence the seat of government was removed in June, 1800, to Washington City. Her impression of the place is graphically described in the following letter to her daughtei", Mm Smith : "Washington, Novembe' 31st, 1800. " Mt Dear Child : — " I arrived here on Sunday last, and without meeting with any accident worth noticing, except losing our- selves when we left Baltimore, and going eight or nine miles on the Frederick road, by which means we were obliged to go the other eight through woods, where we wandered two horn's without finding a guide or the path. Fortunately,, a straggling black came up Avith US, and we eniraired him as a irnide to extricate us out of our difficulty. But woods are all you see from Bal- timore until you reach the city, — which is only so in name. Here and there is a small cot, without a glass window, interspersed amongst the forests, through which you travel miles without seeing any human being. In the city there are buildings enough, if they were com- pact and finished, to accommodate Congress and those NO FIHEWOOD FOK THE MANSION. 75 attached to it ; but as they are, and scattered as they are, I see no great comfort for them. The river, which rmis up to Alexandria, is in full view of my window, and I see the vessels as they pass and repass. The house is upon a grand and superb scale, requiring about thirty servants to attend and keep the apartments in proper ord^r, and perform the ordinary business of the house and stables : an establishment very well proportioned to the President's salary. The lighting the apartments, from the kitchen to parlors and chambers, is a tax in- deed ; and the fii'es we are obliged to keep to secure us from daily agues, is another very cheering comfort. To assist us in this great castle, and render less attendance necessary, bells are wholly wanting, not one single one being hnug through the whole house, and promises are all you can obtain. This is so great an inconvenience, that I know not what to do, or how to do. The ladies from Georgetown and in the city have many of them visited me. Yesterday I returned fifteen visits, — but such a place as Georgetown appears, — why our Milton is beautiful. But no comparisons ; — if they will put me up some bells, and let me have wood enough to keep fires, I design to be pleased. I could content myself almost anywhere three months ; but surroumled with forests, can you believe that wood is not to he had, because people cannot be found to cut and cart it ? Briesler entered into a contract with a man to supply him with wood ; a small part, a few cords only, has be been able to get. Most of that was expended to dry the walls of the house before we came in, and yesterday the man told him it was impossible for him 76 ABIGAIL ADAMS. to procure it to be cut and carted . He lias had re- course to coals : but we cannot get grates made and set. We have indeed come into a new country. "You must keep all this to yourself, and when asked how I like it, say that I write you the situation is beau- tiful, which is true. The house is made habitable, but there is not a single apartment finished, and all within- side, except the plasteiing, has been done since Bries- ler came. We have not the least fence, yard, or other convenience, without, and the great unfinished au- dience-room I make a drying-room of, to hang up the clothes in. The principal stairs are not up, and will not be this winter. Six chambers are made comfort- able; two are occupied by the President and Mr. Shaw; two lower rooms, one for a common parlor and one for a levee room. Up-stairs there is the oval room, which is designed for the drawing-room, and has the crimson furniture in it. It is a very handsome room now, but when completed will be beautiful. If the twelve years, in which this place has been considered as the future seat of government, had l)een improved, as they would have been if in New England, very many of the present inconveniences would have been removed. It is a beautiful spot, capable of every im- provement, and the more I view it, the more I am deliiihted with it. Since I sat down to write, I have been called down to a servant from Mount Vernon, with a billet from Major Custis, and a haunch of veni- son, and a kind, congratulatory letter from Mrs. Lewis, upon my arrival in the city, with Mrs. Washington's love, inviting me to Mount Vernon, where, health per- AN UNFINISHED HOME. 77 mitting, I will go, before I leave this place. * * * Two articles are much distressed for: the one is bells, but the more important one is wood. Yet you cannot see wood for trees. No arrangement has ])een made, but by promises never performed, to supply the new- comers with fuel. Of the promises, Briesler had re- ceived his full share. He had procured nine cords of wood : between six and seven of that was kindly burnt up to dry the walls of the house, which ought to have been done by the commissionei-s, but which, if left to them, would have remained undone to this day. Con- gress poured in, but shiver, shiver. No wood-cutters nor carters to be had at any rate. We are now in- debted to a Pennsylvania waggon to bring us, through the first clerk in the Treasury Office, one cord and a half of wood, which is all we have for this house, where twelve fires are constantly required, and where, we are told, the roads will soon be so bad that it can- not be drawm. Briesler procured two hundred bush- els of coal, or we must have suffered. This is the situ- ation of almost ever}^ person. The public officers have sent to Philadelphia for wood-cutters and waggons." " The vessel which has my clothes and other mat- ter is not arrived. The ladies are impatient for a drawing-room; I have no looking-glasses, but dwarfs, for this house ; nor a twentieth part lamps enough to light it. Many things were stolen, many were broken, by the removal; amongst the number, my tea-china is more than half missing-. Georgetown affords nothinfj. My rooms are very pleasant, and warm, whilst the dooi-s of the hall are closed. 78 ABIGAIL ADAMS. " You can scarce believe that here in this wilder- ness-city, I should find myself so occupied as it is. My visitors, some of them, come three and four miles. The return of one of them is the work of one day Most of the ladies reside in Georgetown, or in scattered parts of the city at two and three miles distance. We have all been very well as yet ; if we can by any means get wood, we shall not let our fires go out, but it is at a price indeed ; from four dollars it has risen to nine. Some say it will fall, but there must be more industry than is to be found here to bring half enough to the market for the consumption of the inhabitants." The Hon. John Cotton Smith, a member of Con- gress, from Connecticut, describing Washington as it appeared to him on his arrival there, wrote as fol- lows : " Our approach to the city was accompanied with sensations not easily described. One wing of the Capitol only had been erected, which, with the Presi- dent's House, a mile distant from it, both constructed with w^hite sandstone, were striking objects in dismal contrast with the scene around them. Instead of re- cognizing the avenues and streets portrayed on the plan of the city, not one was visible unless we except a road, with two buildings on each side of it; called the New Jersey Avenue. The Pennsylvania, leading as laid down on paper, from the Capitol to the Presi- dential mansion, was then nearly the whole distance a deep morass, covered with alder bushes, which were cut throu2:li the width of the intended Avenue the then ensuing winter. * * * * The roads in every di A WILDERNESS CITY, 79 rection were muddy and unimproved; a side- walk was attempted in one instance by a covering formed of tlie chips of the stones which had been hewed for the Cap- itol. It extended but a little way, and was of little value, for in dry weather the sharp fragments cut our shoes, and in wet weather covered them v/ith white mortar ; in short, it was a new settlement. The houses, with two or three exceptions, had been very recently erected, and the operation greatly hurried in view of the approaching transfer of the national government. A laughable desire was manifested by what few citi- zens and residents there were, to render our condition as pleasant as circumstances would permit. Notwith- standing the unfavorable aspect which Washington presented on our arrival, I cannot sufficiently expi-ess my admiration of its local position. From the Capitol you have a distinct view of its fine, undulating surface, situated at the confluence of the Potomac and its Eastern Branch, the wide expanse of that majestic river to the bend at Mount Vernon, the cities of Alexandria and Georgetown, and the cultivated fields and blue hills of Maryland and Virginia on either side of the river, the whole constituting a prospect of surpassing beauty and grandeur. The city has also the inestima- ble advantage of delightful water, in many instances flowing from copious springs, and always attainable by digging to a moderate depth." " Some portions of the city are forty miles from Baltimore. The situation is indeed beautiful and pleasant. " The President's house was built to be looked at by 80 ABIGAIL ADAjrS. visitors and strangers, and will render its occnpanta an object of ridicule witli some and of pity witli others, It must be cold and damp in winter, and cannot be kept in tolerable order without a regiment of servants. Tliere are but few houses at any one place, and most of them small, miserable* huts, which present an awful contrast to the public buildings. The people are poor, and as far as I can judge, they live like fishes, by eating each other." The first New- Year's reception at the White House was held by President Adams in 1801. The house was only partially furnished, and Mrs. Adams used the oval room up stairs, now the library, as a drawing- room. The formal etiquette established by Mrs. Wash- ington at New York and Philadelphia was kept up in the wilderness-city by Mrs. Adams. At this time the health of Mrs. Adams, which had never been very firm, began decidedly to fail. Her residence at Philadelphia had not been favorable, as it had subjected her to the attack of an intermittent fever, from the efi:ects of which she was never after- wai'ds perfectly free. The desire to enjoy the bracing air of her native climate, as well as to keep together the private property of her husband, upon which she early foresaw that he would be obliged to rely for their support in their last years, prompted her to reside much of her time at Quincy. Thus closed Mrs. Adams' life in Washington, which she ha^ given in the preceding lettei'S ; and spring found her once more in her Massacliusetts home, recuperat- ing her failing health. She lived in Washington only A MERllY IIEAET. 81 four months — and yet she is inseparably connected with it. She was mistress of the White House less than half a year, but she stamped it with her individu- ality, and none have lived there since who have not looked upon her as the model and guide. It is not assel'ting too much, to observe that the first occupant of that historic house stands without a rival, and re- ceives a mead of praise awarded to no other American woman. In the midst of public or private troubles, the buoyant spirit of Mrs. Adams never forsook her. " I am a mortal enemy," she wrote upon one occasion to her husband, " to anything but a cheerful countenance and a merry heart, which Solomon tells us does good like a medicine." "This spirit contributed greatly to lift up his heart, when surrounded by difficulties and dan- gers, exposed to open hostility, and secret detraction, and resisting a torrent of invective, such as it may well be doubted whether any other individual in pub- lic station in the United States has ever tried to stem. It was this spirit which soothed his wounded feelings when the country, which he had served in the full con- sciousness of the perfect honesty of his motives, threw him oft', and signified its preference for other statesmen. There are oftener, even in this life, more compensations for the severest of the troubles that afflict mankind, than we ai'e apt to think."" The sacrifices made by Mrs. Adams during the long era of war, pestilence, and famine, deserves and should receive from a nation's gratitude a monument as high and massive as hei' illustrious husband's. 82 ABIGAIL ADAMS. Let it be reared in the hearts of the women of America, who may proudly claim her as a model, and let her fame be transmitted to remotest posterity — the "Portia" of the rebellious provinces. Statues and monuments belong rather to a bygone thaH a present time, and are indicative of a less degree of culture than we of this century boast. The pages of history are the truest, safest sarcophagi of great- ness, and erababn in their records the lives of the master- workers. Not in marble or bronze be her memory perpetuated, for we need no such hiero- glyphics in" this country of free schools. Place her history in the libraries of America, and the children of freedom will live over her deeds. To the crum- bling monarchies of Europe on their way to ruin, it may be necessary to erect statues of past gi'eatness, that some shadow of their nothingness may remain as warnings ; but the men and women of revolutionary memory, are become a part and parcel of this govern- ment, whose very existence must be wiped from the face of the earth ere one jot or tittle of their fame is lost. In viewing the character of Mrs. Adams, as it looms up in the pages of the past, we can but regret that she occupied no more enlarged, sphere. The wo- man who could reply as she did to the question, (" Had you known that Mr. Adams would have remained so ^ong abroad, would you have consented that he should have gone ? ") — could have filled any position in civil life. "If I had known," she replied, after a moment's hesitation, "that Mr. Adams could have effected what A SPAKTAN WIFE. 83 he has done, I would not only have siiljiultted to the absence I have endured, painful as it has been, but T would not have opposed it, even though three more years should be added to the number. I feel a pleas- ure in being able to sacrifice my selfish passions to the ^ general good, and in imitating the example which has taught me to consider myself and family but as the small dust of the balance, when compared with the great comnmuity,'" With the marked characteristics which made her determined and resolute, she could have occupied any post of honor requiring a strong mind and clear per- ceptions of right ; cut off, as was her sex, from partici- pation in the struggle around her ; confined by custom to the lonely and wearisome monotony of her country home, she nevertheless stamped her character upon the hearts of her countrymen, and enrolled her name among its workers. Had she been called into any of the departments of State, or required to fill any place of trust, hers would have been an enviable name ; even as it is, she occupies the foreground of the Revolution- ary histoiy, and so powerful were the energies of her soul, that biographers and historians have deemed it worth their while to deny, in lengthy terms, her in- fluence over her husband, and exert every argument to prove that she in no way controlled his actions. The opinions of men differ on this point, and the stu- dents of American biographies decide Ihe questions from their own stand-points. Yet who will not ven- ture to assert, that with the culture bestowed upon her which many men received, she would have towered 84 ABIGAIL ADAMS. liigli above tliera in their pride and selfislmess ! Controlled by the usages of society, she could only live in her imagination, and impress upon herchiklren the great ideas that wei'e doomed to fritter away use- lessly in her brain. ludiiferent to the charms of fash- ionable life, deprived of the luxuries which too often enervate and render worthless the capacities of wo- man, she was as independent and self-supporting in her actions, as were the inspirations of her mind ; and through good and evil report, conduced by her exam- ple to place that reliance in her country's success which in a great measure secured its independence. Her character was one of undeviating fjxirness and frank truthfulness, free from affectation and vanity. From the year 1801 down to the day of her death, a period of seventeen years, she lived uninterruptedly at Quincy. The old age of Mrs. Adams was not one of grief and I'epining, of clouds and darkness ; her clieerfulness continued with the full possession of her faculties to the last, and her sunny spirit enlivened the small social circle around her, brightened the solitary hours of her husband, and spread the influence of its example over the town where she lived. " Yesterday," she writes, to a grand-daughter, on the 26th of Octo- bei', 1814, "completes half a century since I entered the marriage state, then just your age. I have great cause of thankfulness that I have lived so long and enjoyed so large a portion of happiness as has been my lot. The greatest source of unhappijiess I have known, in that period, has arisen from the long and cruel separations which 1 was called, in a time of A MOTHERS PRIDE. 85 war, and with a young family around me, to sub* mit to/' The appointment of lier eldest son as Minister to Great Britain, by President Madison, was a life-long satisfaction to her; and the testimony President Mon- roe gave her of his worth, by making him his Secre- tary of State, was the crowning mercy of her life. Had she been spared a few years longer, she would have enjoyed seeing him hold the position his father had occupied before him. Mrs. ^Vdams lost three of her children : a daughter in infancy ; a son grown to manhood, who died in 1800; and in 1813 her only re- maining daughter, Abigail, the wife of Colonel William S. Smith. The warmest feelings of friendship had existed be- tween Mr. Jefferson and herself until a difference in political sentiments, developed during the administra- tion of President Washington, disturbed the social re- lations existing. " Both Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson tried as hard as men could do, to resist the natural effect upon them of their antagonist positions. They strove each in turn, to stem the proscriptive fury of the parties to which they belonged, and that with equally bad success." " Mrs. Adams felt as women only feel, what she regarded as the ungenerous conduct of Mi*. Jefferson to- wards her husband during the latter j^art of his public life, and when she retired fromWashington,notwithstand- ing the kindest professions from his mouth were yet ring- ing in her ears, all communication between the parties ceased. Still, there remained on both sides, pleasant rem- 80 ABIGAIL ADAMS. iulscences to soften tlie irritation that liad taken place, and to open a way for reconciliation whenever circ-uin- stances should present a suitable opportunity." Tlie little daughter of Mr. Jeti'erson, in whom Mrs. xVdams had taken so much interest.in 1787, had in the interval trrown into a ^voman, and had been married to Mr. Eppes of Virginia. In 1804 she ceased to be numbered among the living, and ahnost against her own judg* meat Mrs. Adams wrote to him. He seemed to be much affected by this testimony of her s\Tnpatliy, and replied, not continiug himself to the subject matter of her letter, and added a request to kuow her reasons for the estraugement that had occurred. Without the knowledge of her husband she replied to hini, but he at first did not choose to believe her assertion. " For- tunately, the original endorsemeut, made in the hand- writing of letters retained by herself, will serve to put this matter beyond question." Her last letter to him we give entire : " QnxcT, 25th October, 1804. " Sir : Sickness for three weeks past has prevented my acknowledging the receipt of your letter of Sept. 11th. When I first addressed you, I little thought of entering into a correspondence with you upon subjects of a political nature. I will not regret it, as it has led io some elucidations, and brought on some explanations, which place in a more favorable light occurrences which had wounded me. Having once entertained for you a respect and esteem, founded upon the character of an afiectionate LETTER TO MU. JEFFERSON". 87 parent, a kind master, a candid and benevolent fi-iend, I could not suffer different political opinions to obliter- ate tiieni from my mind. I felt the truth of the ob- servation, that the heart is long, very long in receiving the conviction that is foi'ced upon it by reason. It was not until circumstances occurred to place you in the light of a re warder and encourager of a libeler, whom you could not but detest and despise, that I withdrew the esteem. I had long entertained for you. Nor can you wonder, Sii, that I shonld consider as a personal unkindness, the instance I have mentioned. I am pleased to find that which respected my son al- together unfounded. He was, as you conjecture, ap- pointed a commissioner of bankruptcy, together with Judge Dawes, and continued to serve in it with perfect satisfaction to all parties (at least I never heard the contrary), until superseded by the appointment of oth- ers. The idea suggested that no one was in office, and consequently no removal could take place, I cannot consider in any other light than what the gentlemen of the law would term a quibble — as such I pass it. Judge Dawes was continued or re-appointed, which placed Mr, Adams in a more conspicuous light as the object of personal resentment. Nor could I, upon this occasion, refrain calling to mind the last visit you made me at Washington, when in the course of conversation you assured me, tliat if it should lay in your power at any time to serve me or my famil,^, nothing would give you more pleasure. With respect to the ofiice, it was a small object, but the disposition of the remover was considered bv me as the barbed arrow. This, how 88 ABIGAIL ADAMS. ever, by your declaration, is withdrawn froni ray mind. With the public it will remain. And here, Sii', may I be allowed to pause, and ask whether, in your ardent desire to rectify the mistakes and abuses, as you may term them, of the former administrations, you may not be led into measures still more fatal to the Constitu- tion, and more derogatory to your honor and inde- pendence of character ? I know, from the observa- tions which I have made, that there is not a more diffi- cult part devolves upon a chief magistrate, nor one which subjects him to more reproach and censure, than the appointments to office. And all the patronage which this enviable power gives him is but a poor compensation for the responsibility to which it subjects him. It would be well, however, to weigh and con- sider characters, as it respects their moral worth and integrity. He who is not true to himself, nor just to others, seeks an office for the benefit of himself, un- mindful of that of his country. I cannot accord with you in opinion that the Constitution ever meant to withhold from the National Government the power of self defence ; or that it could be considered an in- fringement of the liberty of the press, to punish the licentiousness of it. Time must determine, and pos- terity will judge with more candor and impartiality, I hope, than the conflicting parties of our day, what measures have best promoted the happiness of the people ; and what raised them from a state of depres- sion and degradation to wealth, honor and reputation ; what has made them affluent at home and respected ttbroad ; and to whomsoever the tribute is due, to JEFFERSOlSr AND ADAMS. 89 them may it be given. I will not further intrude upon your time ; but close this correspondence by my vvishejf that you may be directed to that path which may ter- minate in the prosperity and happiness of the people over whom you are placed, by administering the gov- ernment with justice and impartiality ; and be assured, Sir, no one will more rejoice in your success than Abigail Adams. memorandum subjoined to the copy of this letter, in the hand- writing of Mr. Adams. Qdinct, 19th November, 1804. The whole of this correspondence was begun and conducted without my knowledge or suspicion. Last evening and this morning, at the desire of Mrs. Adams I read the whole. I have no remarks to make upon it, at this time and in this place. J. Adams. " A new and strong tie was beginning indeed to bind the stately old men together. They were speedily be- coming the last of the signers of the Declaration of Independence — the last of the great actors and leaders of 1776. Their common and dearly-loved friend Kush had died in April, 1813, after a brief illness." Mr. Jefferson wrote to Mr. Adams of this occurrence, and said : " Another of our friends of seventy-six is gone, my dear sir, another of the co-signers of the in- dependence of our country. I believe we are under half a dozen at present ; I mean the signers of the 90 ABIGAIL ADAMS. Declaration. Yourself, Gerry, Carroll and myself, ar« all I know to be living." Appended to a letter from Adams to Jefferson, dated July 15tli, 1813, we find the following: " I have been looking for some time for a space in my good husband's letters to add the regards of an old friend, which are still cherished and jDreserved through all the changes and vicissitudes which have taken place since we first became acquainted, and will, I trust, re- main as long as "A. Adams." " Mrs. Adams, like her husband, never again met Mr, Jefferson, but she had the opportunity, and eagerly availed herself of it, to bestow kindly and assiduous attentions on some of his family." "She lost none of the imposing features of her character in the decline of life. An observing and intelligent gentleman who was a guest at Quincy within a year or two of her death, has given us a de- scription of his visit. Mr. Adams shook as if palsied ; but the mind and the heart were evidently sound. His spirits seemed as elastic as a boy's. He joked, laughed heartily, and talked about everybody and ev- erything, past and present, with the most complete abandon. He seemed to our highly educated inform- ant to be a vast encyclopedia of written and unwritten knowledge. It gushed out on every possible topic, but was mingled with lively anecdotes and sallies, and he exhibited a carelessness in his language which sug- gested anything but pedantry or an attempt at ' fine MRS. ADAMS DIED OCTOBER 2S, 1818. 91 talking.' In short, tlie brave old man was as delight- ful as he was commandins; in conversation. While the guest was deeply enjoying this interview, an aged and stately female entered the apartment, and he was introduced to Mrs. Adams. A cap of exquisite lace surrounded features still exhibiting intellect and ener- gy, though they did not wear the appearance of ever having been beautiful. Her dress was snowy white, and there was that immaculate neatness in her appear- ance which gives to age almost the sweetness of youth. With less warmth of manner and sociableness than Mr. Adams, she was sufficiently gracious, and her oc- casional remarks betrayed intellectual vigor and strong sense. The guest went away, feeling that he never again should behold such living specimens of the " great of old." Mrs. Adams died of an attack of fever, the 28th of October, 1818, at the advanced age of seventy- four years. " To learning," says her grandson, " in the ordinary sense of that term, Mrs. Adams could make no claim. Her reading had been extensive in the lighter departments of literature, and she was well acquainted with the poets in her own language, but it went no further. It is the soul, shining through the words, that gives them their great attraction ; the spirit ever equal to the occasion, whether a great or a small one ; a spirit,' inquisitive and earnest in the little details of life, as when she was in France and England ; playful, when she describes daily duties, but risinsf to the call when the roar of cannon is in her ears— or when she I'eproves her husband for not 02 ABIGAIL ADAMS. knowing her better than to think her a coward and to fear telling her bad news." " The obsequies of Mi's. Adams were attended by a great concourse of people who voluntarily came to pay this last tribute to her memory. Several brief but beautiful notices of her appeared in the newspapers of the day, and a sermon was preached by the late Rev. Dr. Kirkland, then President of Harvard Uni versity, which closed with a delicate and affecting testimony to her worth. ' Ye will seek to mourn, be- reaved friends,' it says, 'as becomes Christians, in a manner worthy of the person you lament. You do then bless the Giver of Life that the course of your endeared and honored friend was so long and so bright ; that she endeared so fully into the spirit of those injunctions which we have exjjlained, and was a min- ister of blessings to all within her influence. You are soothed to reflect that she was sensil^le of the many tokens of divine goodness which marked her lot; that she received the good of her existence with a cheerful and grateful heart; that, when called to w^eep, she bore adversity with an equal mind ; that she used the world as not abusing it to excess, improving well her time, talents, and opportunities, and though desired longer in this world, was fitted for a better happiness than this world can give.' " Soon as the news of Mrs. Adams' death reached Monticello, Mr. Jefferson wrote as follows : — TRIBUTE FKOM JEFFERSON". 93 To John Adams. " MoNTioELLo, November 13th, 1818. " The public papers, my dear friend, announce the fatal event of which your letter of October the 20th had given me ominous foreboding. Tried myself in the school of affliction, by the loss of every form of connection which can rive the human heart, I know well, and feel what you have lost, what you have suf- fered, are suffering, and have yet to endure. The same trials have taught me that for ills so immeasurable, time and silence are the only medicine. I will not, there- fore, by useless condolences, open afresh the sluices of your grief, nor, although mingling sincerely my tears with yours, will I say a word more where words are vain, but that it is of some comfort to us both that the time is not very distant at which we are to deposit in the same casement our sorrows and suffering Ijodies, and to ascend in essence to an ecstatic meeting with the friends we have loved and lost, and whom we shall still love and never lose again. God bless you, and support you under your heavy affliction. " Th. Jefferson.'" Side by side in the Congregational church in Quin- cy, to which he had given the donation to erect it with, lie the mortal remains of Mr. and Mrs. Adams. Within the same house, a plain, white marble slab, on the right hand of the pulpit, surmounted by his bust, bears the following inscription written by his eldest >ou : — 04 ABIGAIL ADAMS. Libertatem, Amicitiam. Fidera Retinebis. D. O. M. Beneath these walls, Are deposited the mortal remains of JOHN ADAMS, Son of John and Susanna (Boylston) Adams, Second President of the United States, Born }/s October, 1735. On the fourth of July, 1776, He pledged his life, fortune, and sacred honour, To the Independence of his country. On the third of September, 1783, He affixed his seal to the definitive treaty with Great Britain, Which acknowledged that independence, And consummated the redemption of his pledge. On the fourth of July, 1826, He was summoned To the Independence of Immortality And to the judgTuent of his God. This house will bear witness to his piety; This Town, his birth-place, to his munificence; History to his patriotism; Posterity to the depth and compass of his mind. At his side. Sleeps, till the trump shall sound, ABIGAIL His beloved and only wife, Daughter of William and Elizabetli, (Quincy) Smith. In every relation of life a pattern of filial, conjugal, maternal, and social virtue. Born November ,}i, 1744 Deceased 28 October, 1818, Aged 74. Married 25 October, 1764. During an union of more than half a century They survived, in harmony of sentiment, principle and aflPection, Tiie tempests of civil commotion. Meeting undaunted and surmounting The terrors and trials of tliat revolution, THE TABLET. 95 Which secured the freedom of their country ; Improved the condition of their times; And brightened tlie prospects of futurity To the race of man upon earth. Pilgrim I • From lives thu3 spent tliy eartlily duties learn : From fancy's dreams to active virtue turn : Let freedom, friendship, failh, thy sou] engage, And serve, like them, thy country and thy age. III. • . MARTHA JEFFEllSON. Mrs. Jefferson liad been dead nineteen years wlien, in 1801, President Jefferson took possession of the Wliito House, and tiiore was strictly s})eal'ed to force the little creature awav. She is but eight years old. She wonld sit, sometimes, and describe to me the parting Avitli her aunt, w^ho brought her up, * the obligations she was under to her, and the love she had for her little cousins, till the tears would stream down her cheeks ; and how I had been her friend, and she loved me. Iler papa would break her heart by making her go again. She clung lound me so that I could not help sheildiug a tear at parting with her. She was the favorite of every one iu the house. I regret that such fine spirits must be spent in the walls of a convent. She is a beautiful girl, too." t Marie, (for so we shall henceforth call her, unless * ^Nfrs. Francis Eppes, of Eppington, Va. t Mrs. Adams' Letters, vol. ii., p. 179. 104 MAJITIIA JEFFEliSON. when adopting her father's sobriquet of Polly) was soon placed with Martha in the school of the Al> baye de Pauthemont. Martha had now grown into a tall, graceful girl, with that calm, sweet fiice stamped with thought and earnestness, which, with the traces of many more years on it, and the no])le dignity of the matron superadded, beams down from the speaking canvass of Sully. The most dutiful of daughters, the most attentive of learners, possessing a solid underst:inding, a judgnKMit ripe beyond her years, a most gentle and genial temper, and an unas- suming modesty of demeanor which neither the dis- tinction of her position, nor the flatteries that after- ward surrounded hei-, ever wore off in the least degree, she was the idol of her father and family, and the de- YiQ-ht of all who knew her. The little Marie has been sufficiently described by Mrs. Adams. "Slighter in person than her sister, she already gave indications of a superior beauty. It was that exquisite beauty possessed by her mother — that beauty which the experienced learn to look upon with dread, because it betrays a physical organization too delicately fine to withstand the rough shocks of the WOl'ld.^' "In April, an incident of an intere^^ting character occurred in Mr. Jefferson's family. His oldest daugh- ter, as has been- seen, had been educated in the views and feelino's of the Church of En^-land. Her mother had zealously moulded her young mind in that direc- tion. Her f^tther had done nothing certainly, by word or act to divert it from that channel ; and it had flowed SCHOOL LIFE ENDED. 105 OD, for auglit Martha knew or suspected to tlie con- trary, with his full approbation. If she had then been called upon to state what were her fathej-'s religious beliefs, she would have declared that her impressions were that he leaned to the tenets of the church to which his family belonged. The daring and flippant infidelity now rife in French society, disgusted the earnest, serious, naturally reverential girl. The calm seclusion of Panthemont, its examples of serene and holy life, its intellectual associations, wooed - her away from the turmoil and glare and wickedness and erup- tions without. After meditating on the subject for a time, she wrote to her father for his permission to re- main in a convent, and to dedicate herself to the duties of a religious life. For a day or two she received no answer. Then his carriage rolled up to the door of the Abbaye, and poor Martha met her father in a fever of doubts and fears. Never was his smile more benignant and gen- tle. He had a private interview with the Abbess. He then told his daughters he had come for them. They stepped into his carriage, it rolled away, and Martha's school life was ended.* Henceforth she was introduced into society, and presided, so fiir as was ap- propriate to her age, as the mistress of her fxther's household. * * * Neither he nor Martha ever, after her first letter on the subject, made the remotest allusion to each other to her request to enter a con- vent. She spoke of it freely in after years, to her • This happened April 22d, 1789 106 MARTHA JEFFEKSON RANDOLPH. children, and always expressed her full approbation of her father's conrse on the occasion. She always spoke of her early wish as rather the dictate of a transient sen timent, than a fixed conviction of religions duty ; and slie warmly applauded the quick and gentle way which her father took to lead her back to her family, her friends, and her country. Mr. Jefferson left the shores of Europe with his two daughters the 28th of October, 1^89, and the following February Martha was married to 1'homas Mann Randolph, jr., who had been a ward of her father's. " The young people were cousins, and had been attached to each other from childhood. He was tall, lean, with dark, expressive features and a flashing eye, commanding in carriage, elastic as steel, and had that sudden sinewy strength which it would not be difficult to fancy he inherited from the forest monarchs of Virginia." Mr. Jefferson was immediately tendered, and ac- cepted a position in President Washington's cab- inet and mnde his home in New York and after- ward in Philadelphia until his withdrawal from pub- lic life. After President Washington declined a re-appoint- ment, Mr. Adams was elected to fill his place, and Mr. Jefferson the second position in the gift of the nation. Tn 1801, he was inaugurated President of the United States. His dauo-hter IMartha was livins: at her hus- band's country home near Monticello, the mother of several children, and Marie, who had previously mar- ried Mr. Eppes of Eppington, was happily situated at GAMING FASHION-ABLE. 107 Moiiticello awaiting lier father's promised visit in early summer.* Sir Ausru^tus Poster, wlio was Secretary of Leora- tioD at Washington to the British Minister, Mr. Merry, has G^iven some rather entertainins^ accounts of the state of society there in the time of Jefferson. "In going to assemblies, one had to drive three or four miles within the city bounds, and very often at the risk of an overturn, or of being what is termed stalled, or stuck in the mud, when one can neither go backward nor forward, and either loses one's shoes or one's patience. Cards were a great resource of an evening, and gaming was all the fashion, for the men who frequented society were chiefly from Virginia or the Western States, and were very fond of brag, the most oramblino- of all srames. Loo was the innocent O O O diversion of the ladies, who when they were looed, pi'onounced the word in a very mincing manner. "The New Englanders, generally speaking, were very religious, but thougli there were many excep- tions, I cannot say so much for the Maiylanders, and still less for the Virginians. But in spite of its incon- veniences and desolate aspect, it was, I think, the most agreeable town to i-eside in for any length of time. The opportunity of collecting information from Sv^na- tors and Representatives from all parts of the country — the hospitality of the heads of the Government and the Corps Diplomatique of itself, supplied resources such as could nowhere else be looked for." * She died at Monticdlo, April 17, 1804. 108 MAKTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. Mr. Jefferson was inausrurated President a second time on the 4tli of Marcli, 1805, then in tlie sixty- second year of his age. The following winter, his only daughter, with all her children, passed most of the season in Washington. She never made but two visits there; one with her sister, the second year of his first term, and this last one in the winter of 1805-6, after her sister\s death. Means of travel were not so rapid or pleasant as now, and the laborious and ex- tremely tedious undertaking of travelling so far in a carriage was sufficient to dampen the desire of living for a few alternate months with, her father. The un- healthy condition of Washington at that time, its low and marsliy condition, engendering disease, ren- dered it absolutely necessary for those unacclimated to be out of its limits during the hot months of summer. The increasing cares of children and the duties of Virginia matrons, also deterred Mrs. Randolph from becoming, as we must only regret she did not, perma- nently located in the President's House. Her memory is so fragrant with the perfume of purity and saintly sweetness, that it is a privilege to dwell and muse upon a theme so elevating. The world has not yet developed a more harmonious, re- fined, or superior type of womanhood than the daugh- ters of Virginia in the last century. Reared in ease and plenty, taught the virtues that ennoble, and val- uing their good name no less than prizing their family lineage, they were the most delightful specimens of womanhood ever extant. Most particularly was Mar- tha Jefierson of this class, wliose image is fast losing "the sweetest woman of VIRGINIA." 109 originality in the modern system of utilitarian educa- tion. Her father's and her husband's great enemy pronounced her "the sweetest woman in Yirginia;" and the assurance comes laden with the testimony of many tongues, that her existence was one of genial sunshine and peace. Are not such natures doubly blessed, first, in the happiness they secure to them- selves, and, secondly, in the blessing they are to those who walk in the light of their example ? With the retirement of Mr. Jefferson from public life, came a new trouble in the shape of innumerable visitors, and the seventeen years he lived at Monticello was one continued scene of new faces and old friends. Even after the loss of property and accumulated debts, he was compelled to entertain thoughtless crowds who made pilgrimages to his shrine. Time and again he would go to an adjoining estate to secure that rest and quiet so essential to his health ; but these visits were never of long duration, for he could not consent to be separated from his daughter, even though accompanied by his grandchildren. As the shadows began to darken round his earth-life, and bankruptcy to hover over him, he turned with redoubled affection to this idol, and she was strong and faithful to the last. Mother and sister she had buried, and she was yet strong enough to see her husband and father taken. " There were few eminent men of our country, ex- cept, perhaps, some political adversaries, who did not visit Mr. Jefferson in his retirement, to say nothing of distinguished foreigners."" But all visitors were not as agreeable as " eminent men." " There are a number 110 MAKTIIA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. of persons now living wlio have seen groups of utter strangers, of both sexes^, planted in the passage be- tween his study and dining-room, consulting their watches, and waiting for liim to pass from one to the other to his dinner, so that they could momentarily stare at him. A female once punched through a win- dow-pane of the house, with her parasol, to get a bet- ter view of him. When sitting in the shade of his porticoes to enjoy the coolness of the approaching evening, parties of men and women would sometimes approach within a dozen yards, and gaze at him point- blank until they had looked their fill, as they would have gazed on a lion in a menagerie,"" Mrs. Randolph was " the apple of her father's eye."*' All his letters bear witness to his affection, and all his life records this prominent sentiment of his heart. A gentleman writing to him for his views on a proper course of education for woman, he takes the opportu- nity of complimenting her unconsciously. " A plan of female education," he says, "has never been a subject of systematic contemplation with me. It has occupied my attention so far only as the education of my own daughters occasionally required. Considering that they would be placed in a country situation where lit- tle aid could be obtained from abroad, I thought it es- sential to give them a solid education, which might enal)le them — when become mothers — to educate their own daughters, and even to direct the course for sons, should their fathers be lost, or incapable, or inatten- tive. " My surviving daughter accordingly, the mother JULY 4tit, 1826. Ill of many daughters as well as sons, lias made theii education the object of her life, and l)eing a better judge of the practical part than myself, it is with her aid and that of one of her eUve-s, that I shall sul)join a catalogue of the books for such a course of reading as we have practised." Again, in a letter to his grandson, Thomas Jeffer- son Randolph, he says : " You kindly encourage me to keep up my spirits ; but oppressed with disease, debility, age, and embar- rassed affairs, this is difficult. For myself, I should not regard a prostration of fortune ; but I am over- whelmed at the prospect of the situation in which I may leave my family. My dear and beloved daugh- ter, the cherished companion of my early life, and nurse of my age, and her children, rendered as dear to me as if my own, from having lived with me from their cradle, left in a comfortless situation, hold up to me nothing but future gloom ; and I should not care were life to end with the line I am writin,";, were it not that in the unhappy state of mind which your fiither's misfortunes have brought uj^on him, I may yet be of some avail to the family." Ex-President JeffervSon died the 4th of July, 1826, and at nearly the same hour passed away the spirit of John Adams. He lingered a little behind Jeffei'son, and his last words, uttered in the failing articulation of the dying, were : "Jefferson still survives." Mrs. Randolph left no written account of the scene. On the 2d of July, Mr. Jeflerson handed her a little cas- ket. On opening it, after his (K-aih, she found a paper ll'-3 MAKTIIA ,IKKKKKS()]\" KAN I)()L1>II. on which he luul wiittcii the linos of IMoorc, conimeuc- in^: : o " It is not tlio tour at this moinont slioil AVhoii tlio cold turf liua just boon laiuo'or him" There is ;ilso a touehin^'- tribnte to his daughter, deehiring that while he " och^s to his fathers," " the List pang of life," is in })arting from her ; that " two seraphs" "long shrouded in death " (meaning doubt- less his wife and younger daughter) " await him ; " that he will "bear them her love." After this, all is sadness. To satisfy creditors all the proi)ei'ty was sold, and tlu^ pi'oceeds did not fully meet the debts. " When it became known that IMonticello had gone, or must go out of the hands of Mr. Jeiferson\-i family, and that his only child was left without an independent ])rovisiou, another exhibition of }Md)lic fei'liug took place. The I egislatures of South Caro- lina and Louisiana promptly voted her S10,000 each, and the stocks they created t\)r the purpose sold for $•21,800. Other plans were started in other States, which, had they been carried out, would have em- braced a liberal provision for Mr. JetVerson's descend- ants. But, as is usual on such occasions, the people in each locality obtained exaggerated impressions of what was iloing in others, and slackinied their own exer- tions until the feeling that prompt(Ml them died away." On lhc> 10th of October, IS.'W;, in the sixty-tifth year of her age, Martha Jefferson Kandolpli died, and was laid besid her father in the graveyard at Mouti celK>. J2',$^^J'^.^^AV_.. IV. DOROTHY P. MADISOK Washington Ieving, in one of his letters, liaa given an amusing account of his troubles in Washing- ton, in preparing to attend a levee given by President Madison. After a ludicrous description of his vexa- tions, he says, he finally emerged into the blazing splendor of Mrs. Madison's drawing-room. Here he was most graciously received, and found a crowded collection of great and little men, of ngly and old women, and beautiful young ones. Mrs. Madison, he adds, was a fine, pretty, buxom dame, who had a smile and a pleasant word for every body. Her sisters, Mrs. Cutts and Mi's. Washington, were also present on this occasion, and looked " like the merry wives of Windsor." Dorothy Payne, the second child of John and Mary Coles Payne, was born the 20th of May, 1772. Her mother was a daughter of William Coles, Esq., of Coles Hill ; and was a lady of pleasing social ^manners. The family were Virginians, and though Mrs. Madison was born in the State of North Caroli- na, she ever prided herself on a title so dear to all its possessors : that of being a daughter of the old com- monwealth. Her parents removed to Philadelphia when she was quite young, and joined the Society of Friends at that place. Here their little daughter was 114 DOROTHY P. MADISOlSr. reared according to the strict system of the society, and by example and precept taught to ignore all those graceful accomplishments deemed so necessary in the formation of a woman's education. Attired in the close-fitting dress of her order, she would demurely attend to the duties imposed upon her, and the won- derful undertone of sweetness in h.er character kept; the brow serene, and the heart ever bright and hope- ful. Hers was a sunny elastic nature, even as a child ; and if she was not permitted to learn the worldly arts she desired, her disposition was not soured by these re- strictions, and the inner graces which afterward made her famous, blossomed and bloomed in native harmony. Nothins: could conceal her beautiful character. Nor could the quaint Ijonnet of the Friends liide her spark- ling eyes and perfectly rounded features from the ad- miring gaze of her young acquaintances. At the age of nineteen she was married to John Todd, a rising young lawyer of Philadelphia and a member of the Society of Friends. Her father had manumitted his slaves when he moved to the city, and Miss Payne was accustomed to a life of simj^licity and plentiful ness, but never to even comparative wealth. Nor was she re- markable for her literary abilities or acquired attain- ments ; but her warm heart beamed goodness from her expressive lips and lent a fascination to her frank, earnest face. After her union with Mr. Todd, her time was spent in her modest home according to the seclud- ed manner of her sect, and during her short married life she pursued the even tenor of her quiet way, un- conscious of her rapidly unfolding beauty, or of the A DISPENS]<:il OF EOUNTIES. 115 admiration it was exciting. Soon she was left a widow with an infant son, and made her home with hei widowed mother. The personal charms of the young widow, united as they were, with manners cordial, frank, and gay excited the admiration and awakened the kind feelingi of all who came within their influence, and unaided by che extrinsic and accidental advantages of fortune or fashion, she became a general favorite, and the object not only of admiration, but of serious and devoted attachment. In October, 1794, Mrs. Todd wa^ married to Mr. Madison, then one of the most talented members of Congress, a statesman of wealth and social position, and withal a great and good man. She. had been a widow less than a year, and was at the time of her second marriage in the twenty-third year of her age. The ceremony was performed at " Harewood," Jeffer- son County, Virginia, the residence of her younger sister, Lucy, the wife of George Steptoe Washington. From this time forward, she lived at " Montpelier,'*' the rural home of Mr. Madison, until he was called again to public life. It was at this time of her life that she developed the loveliest traits of her noble character. Placed in a position where she could command re- sources, the warmth and generosity of her nature was displayed, not in lavish personal expenditures, but in dispensing the bounties bestowed upon her to all who came as suppliants, and in giving to her widowed mother and orphaned sisters a home. The blessings of her kindred, and the fond love of her husband, 116 DOKOTllY V. .MADISON. gladdened tliese, the first years of her married life ; and her relatives and friends were made partakei*s of her abundance; while the tender attentions of Mr Madison to her aged mother filled her heart to reple- tion. Had she not been placed in a position harmo- nious to her nature, it is probable that her days would have been spent in indiri:erent adherence to a dull routine, and the rills of her heart which bubbled and sang so gleefully in the summer of her content, never been discovered beneath the weight of circumstances. Fortunately hers was a disposition to rightfully appre- ciate the gifts of fortune and social consideration, and, in accepting her bright future prospects, determined to nourish the smothered generousness of her soul. Hitherto her lot had been circumscribed and the lofty emotions of her heart been hushed ; but when the power was given her to do good, she filled the meas- ure of her life with the benedictions of humanity, and reii^ned in the aliections of her friends without a rival. Mr. Jefterson appointed Mr. ]\tadison Secretary of State in 1801, and in April of that year he removed with his family to Washington. Here her position was in perfect accordance with her disposition, and her house was a radiating point for every acquaintance. The great secret of her success lay in the innocence, which dwelt in her noble nature ; and this nobleness of innocence underlaid the dignity and high-minded* noss which attested an elevated nature. She drank the wine of human existence without the lees, and inhaled the perpetual Ixreath of summer, even after LIFE IN WASHINGTON. 117 the snows of winter liad clogged tlie dull course of life. Slie was gifted with that whicli was better than Ithuriel's spear, whose touch reveals the beauty \vhich existed in every thing, for she was humble-hearted, tolerant, and sincere. Entirely free from malignant -cavil, her instinctive sympathy with the good and beautiful led her to seek it in every thing around her, and her life, if not devoted to the higher cultivation of the mind, developed the sunny brightness of her heart. The power of adaptiveness was a life-giving principle in Mrs. Madison's nature. With a desire to please, and a willingness to be pleased, she waspop- ular in society, and was to her husband a support and friend. Washington was little more than a wilderness when, in the spring, she commenced life there as the wife of a cabinet officer. The elements which com- bined to form the society of the Capital were various, and difficult to harmonize, and her situation was a del- icate one to fill ; yet she was loved by all parties, and embittered politicians who never met save at her hos- pitable board, there forgot " the thorns of public con- troversy under the roses of private cheerfulness." In those days, steamboats were just beginning, railroads unknown, stage-coaches extremely inconvenient, na- tional, indeed even turnpike roads were very rare, and the journeys were mostly performed in the saddle. The daughter of one of the Senators, who wished to enjoy the gayeties of the Capital, accompanied her father five hundred miles on horseback. The wife of another member not only rode fifteen hundred miles on horse- back, but passed thi'ough several Indian settlements, 118 DOROTHY P. MADISON. for many niglits without a house to lodge in. Mrs. Madison herself had travelled from her Virginia home by easy stages, cumbered with household furniture, and stopping on the road to visit relatives ; occupying what seems to us at this day an incredible length of time to perform such a journey. Her house, after the President's, was the resort of most company, and the cordial manners of the hostess lent a peculiar charm to the frequent parties there assembled. " Individuals who never visited at the President's, nor met at the other ministerial houses, could not resist the softening influ- ences of her conciliatory disposition, of her frank and gracious manners, but frequented her evening circle, and sat at her husband's table." Political feuds ran high, and party spirit was more virulent than ever before experienced. Washington's administration had been a success, and in the eyes of the public he was not in- cluded in any party, but was above them all. Yet ho placed himself, when the question was of a political order, under the banner of the republican party, and " was the declared advocate of the unity and force of the central power." He insured its triumph during his two terms, and let his mantle descend upon one of his most attached friends. The democratic party, de- siring the rule of the majority, opposed to the pre- ponderance of the higher classes, and to aristocratic tendencies, overcame the successor of Washington, who was succeeded by Mr. Jefferson, the leader of the op- position. At the commencement of this era, Mrs. Madison appeared upon the scene, and gave to her husband that su})port which enhanced his popularity HOSTESS OF THE MANSION. 119 as a pii1:>lic man, and made his iiouse the most popular place of resort in the city. During his eight years' life as Secretary of State, she dispensed with no nig- gard hand the abundant wealth she riglitly prized, and the poor of the District loved her name as a household deity. In 1810, Mr. Madison was elected President, and after Mr. Jefferson left the city, he re- moved to the White House. Under the former ad- ministration, Mrs. Madison had, during the absences of Mr. Jeffera.>n's daughters, presided at the receptions and levees, and was in ever}^ j^articular fitted to adorn her position as hostess of the mansion she was called to preside over. Every one in Washington felt that her watchful care and friendly interest would be in no wise diminished by her advancement to a higher po- sition ; and the magical effects of her snuff box were as potent in one capacity as another. The forms and ceremonials which had rendered the drawing-rooms of Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Adams dull and tedious, were laid aside, and no kind of stiffness was permitted. Old friends were not forgotten, or new ones courted ; but mild and genial to all, each person felt himself the object of vspecial attention, and all left her presence pleased and gratified with her urbanity and refinement. Possessing a most retenti^^e memory, she never mis- called a name, or forgot the slightest incident connected with the personal history of any one ; and therefore impressed each individual with the idea of their im- portance in her esteem. Mrs. Madison's sole aim was to be poj^ular and render her husband's administration brilliant and successful. Her field was the parlor; 120 DOKOTTIY P. ]\IADISC)N. and witli the view of reigning supreme there, she ])eut the energies of her mind to tiie one idea of accom plishmeut. In her thirty-seventh year she entered the White House. Still youthful in appearance, denied the cares of maternity, which destroy the Idoom of beauty on the delicate faces of American womeu, slie as- sumed her agreeable position with no encumbrances, no crosses, in perfect health, the possessor of great beauty of featui'e and form, and eminently happy in the sincere regard of her Imsband. Contentment crowned her lot with happiness, and the first four years of her stay must have been one continued pleasure. With all her appi'eciation of admiration, she was not extravagant ; her house, during the time of Mr. Jefterson's term, was very plainly furnished, and in no way elegant. Like most Virginians, she delighted in company, and her liome was the most hospitable abode in Washington. Her table was her pride; and the superabundance of dishes, and their size, was a subject of ridicule to a foreign minister, who observed "that it was more like a harvest-home supper, than the entertainment of a Sec- retary of State." She heard of this and similar re- marks, and only observed with a smile, "that she thought abundance was preferable to elegance; that circumstances formed customs, and customs formed taste; and as the profusion so repugnant to foreign customs arose from the happy circumstance of the super- abundance and prosperity of our country, she did not hesitate to sacrifice the delicacy of European taste for the less elegant, but more liberal fashion of Virginia." But this time of prosperity was doomed, and war insa- A PANIC IN WASHINGTON. 121 tiate was already treacling upon the sliores of tlie At- lantic. Mr. Madison, the peace-loving, humane Execu- tive, was compelled to declare war with Great Britain ; land after a time its actual presence was felt at the National Capital. June, 1812, is memorable as the second appeal of the United States to arms, to as- sert once more their rights as freemen ; and for three years its fierceness was felt from Canada to New Or- leans, and over the blue waters of the oceans of the world. " Generous British sentiments revolted at the de- struction of the American Capital : which might not have been branded with universal infamy if confined to navy yards, warlike implements, vessels of war, and even private rope-walks, if the enormity had stopped there. But no warfare can satisfy its abominable lust with impunity on libraries, public and private, halls of legislation, residences of magistrates, buildings of civil government, objects of art, seats of peace, and embodiments of rational patriotic pride/' "The day before the fall of Washington was one of extreme alarm, the Secretary of State wrote to the President : ' the enemy are advanced six miles on the road to the wood-yard, and our tropps are retreating. You had better remove the records.' Then com- menced the panic which was destined to grow more general the coming day. Tuesday night, every clerk was busy packing and aiding in the removal of valu- ables. Coarse linen bags were provided, and late in the evening, after all the work was over, and the bags were hanG^ino: round the room, readv at a moment's G 122 DOROTHY P. MADISON. warning to be moved, Mr. Plensanton, one of the clerks, procured conveyances, and crossing the Poto- mac deposited them in a "mill three miles off. But fearing for their safety, he determined to go farther into the interior, and the next night slept at Leesburg, a small town thirty-five miles from Wasliirisrton. The liglit that shone against the cloudless sky revealed the fate of the city, and the doom of his charge had they delayed. Amongst the documents were the original Declaration of Inde2:)endence, the Federal Constitution, and General Washington's commission as Commander- in-Chief of the Army of the Revolution, which he re- linquished when he resigned it at Annapolis, (found among the rubbish of a garret). Scarcely had the wagon that bore the papers crossed the wooden bridge of the Potomac, than crowds of flying fugitives, men, women, and children, pressed upon it in such numbers as to render the threatened danger almost imminent. The frightened multitude swayed to and fro, seeking means of escape till night closed the horri- ble drama ; then upon Capitol Hill appeared the red- coated soldiery of the British army. Tlie sun sank beneath the golden sheen of fleecy clouds tliat floated softly over the soutliern horizon, but the going down of the king of day in no wise relieved the atmosphere. J)ust and heat were intolerable, and a rumor that the water was poisoned rendered the sufferings of the weary sokliers painful in the extreme. - For the sev- enth time that day, a retreat was commanded, and the city troops, mortified and enraged, refused to obey. Back from the city to tlie heights of Georgetown was A BLAZING CAPITAL. 123 the order ; but how could they leave their families, theis homes and property, and march by those they were sworn to protect ! Down the long, broad, and solitai'y avenue past the President's now deserted house, through Georgetown, and some as fav as Tenlytown, the disorganized, demoralized remnant of the army strayed, and slept on the ground, lighted up by the fiery red glare from the burning buildings in Washing- ton. All night they lay alarmed and distressed, while but few could steal a moment's repose. The bursting shells in the navy yard were heard for miles, and each boom was a knell to the agonizing hearts, who knew not where their helpless ones were in this hour of hori'ors. " When the British marched slowly into the wil- derness city, by the lurid light that shot up from the blazing capitol, the population had dwindled down to a few strasrsrlers and the slaves of the absent residents. The houses, scattered over a large space, were shut, and no sign of life was visible. The President had crossed the Potomac early in the afternoon, and Mrs. Madison had followed in another direction. The bayonets of the British guard gleamed as they filed down the ave- nue, and the fulminations from the navy yard saluted them as they passed. Nothing but the prayers and entreaties of the ladies, and the expostulations of the nearest residents, deterred the British General Ross fi'om blowing up the Capitol ; but he ordered it to be fired at every point, and many housas near it were consumed. A house hard by, owned by General Washington, was destroyed, which, in justice to human 124 DOROTHY P. MADISON. . nature be it said, the General regretted. Not so tlie Admiral, who ordered the troops to fire a volley in the windows of the Capitol and then entered to plun der. " I have, indeed, to this hour, (said Mr. Richard Rush, in 1855) the vivid impression upon my eye of columns of flame and smoke ascending throughout the night of the 24th of August from the Capitol, Presi- dent's house, and other public edifices, as the whole were on fire, some burning slowly, others with bursts of flame and sparks mounting high up in the dark horizon. This never can be forgotten by me, as I ac- comjianied out of the city, on that inemorable night in 1814, President Madison, Mr. Ji)nes, then Secretary of the Navy, General Mason, of Anacostia Island, Mi*. Charles Carroll, of Belle vue, and Mr. Tench Ringgold. If at intervals the dismal sight was lost to our view, we got it again from some hill-top or eminence where we paused to look at it." It was among the stories wiien Congress met near the ruins three weeks afterward, that the Admiral in a strain of coarse levity, mounting the s])eaker''s chair put the question, " Shall this harbor of Yankee democ- racy be burned ? " and when the mock resolution wtis declared unanimous, it was cai-ried into effect by heap- ing combustibles under the furniture. The temporary wooden structure connecting the two wings, readily kindled. Doors, chairs, the library and its contents, in an upper room of the senate-wing, every thing that would take fire, soon disappeared in sheets of flame, illumiuatiiu!; and consternating the environs for thirty THE CAl'TUKE OF THE CITY. 125 miles arouiul, whence the coiiflacrratiou was visibla Tlirough ^' the eternal Pennsylvania Avenue," the Ad- miral and General led their elated troops, where but a few houi's before the flying, scattered Americans, dis- mayed, ashamed, and disgusted, liad wended their sor- rowing way. The Capitol beliind them was wrapt in its winding robes of flame, and on through the darJ" ness they passed to that other liouse of the nation. An aged lady lived in the nearest residence to the Presidential Mansion, and here the ruilianly Cockburn and tlie quiet, sad General Ross halted and ordered sui'per, which they ate by the light of the burning buildings. A letter written by Mi's. Madison to her sister at jMonnt Vernon, gives us an insight into her feelings, although only detached items can be given. " Tuesday, August 23d, 18U. "Dear Sister: — My husband left me yesterday morning to join General Winder. He inquired anx- iously whether I had courage or firmness to remain in the President's House until his return, on the morrow or succeeding day, and on my assurance tliat I had no fear but for him and the success of our army, he left me, beseeching me to take cai'e of myself, and of the Cabinet papers, public and private. I have since re- ceived two dispatches from him wi'itten with a pencil; the last is alarming, because he desires that I should be ready at a moment's warning to enter my carriage and leave the city : that the enemy seemed stronger than had been reported, and that it might happen that rJO DOROTHY P. MADISON. they \viMil(l iH^u'li the city with intention to desti'oy \t * * * I mn ne<.'oi\lini;ly ready; I Imve pressed ns many Cabinet [)apers into trunks as to till one car- riage ; our private j)roperty must be sacrificed, as it is impossible to procure wagons for its transportation. I am determined not to go myself, nntil I see Mr. Madison safe and he can accompany me, — as I hear oi' much hostility toward him. * -x- * l)isaiVection stalks around us. * * My friends and acquaint- ances are all gone, even Colonel C\, with his lunnlred men, who were stationed as a guard in this enclosure. * * French John (a faithful domestic) with his usual activity and resolution, otVers to spike the' camion at the gate, and lay a train of powth'r which would blow up the British, should they enter the house. To the List proposition I positively object, without being able, however, to make him undei-stand why all advantages in war may not be taken. '^ Wtnlnesday morning, twelve o'clock. — Since sun- rise I have been turning my spy-glass in every direc- tion and watching with unweai'ied anxiety, ho])ing to discover the approach of my dear husband and his friends ; but, alas ! I can descry only groups of military wandering in all directions, as if there was a lack of arms, or of spirit.s, to fight for their own firesides ! "Three o'clock. — Will you believe ii, my sister? we have had a battle or skirmish near Bladensburgh, and I am still here within sound of the cannon ! Mj*. Madison comes not; may God protect him! Two messengers covered with dust coiner to bid me fiy ; but I wait for him. * * * At this late hour a wag- TiriO POiriMiAIT OK VVASlIINfrJ'ON. 127 on has been pi-ociuod ; I liuvc liad it filled witli llie plate and most valuable; j)Oi'tablo ai'ticles belonging to the Ikjuso; whetlKM- it will reach its destination, the Bank of Maryland, or fall into the hands of Jiritish soldiery, events must determine. Our kind friend, Mi-. Carroll, has come to hasten my d(i[)arture, and is in a WQiYy bad humor with me Ixjcause I insist on waiting until the larg(3 picture of (General Wasliington is se- cured, and it i-eei-ilous moments; I have ordered the frame to Ix; brokcMi and the canvas tak(;n out ; it is done — and tin; ])recious poi'ti-ait placed -in the hands of two gentlemen of l^aw York for safe keeping. An "1 in- to service and valuables scattered over the counti- for Bafety. The city contained about eight tliousan 1 in- habitants, living at great distances, of wh nn n t mo'e than one tenth ]-emained in its limits to se the en- hance and exit of the British army. Over the long bridge, until it was in danger of giving wa}^, through fche country into the interior of Maryland and beyond 132 DOEOTIIY P. MADISON. the Georgetown limits, the flying, frightened people wandered, not caring whither or how they went, so that they escaped from their remorseless foes. It was a whole week, said the aged Mrs. Suter (at whoso honse the intruders demanded supper), of great trouble, hardly sleeping at night and all the day spent in fright. After the terrors of that sad week and dreadful day, the capitol and other buildings blazing, the navy yard fearfully exploding, a rain set in which in intensity and duration was scarcely ever witnessed, and which continued during the following day. A British narrator states, " that the most tremendous hur- ricane ever remembered by the oldest inhabitant in the place came on. Of the prodigious force of the wind, it is imjjossible for you to form any conception. Roofs of houses were torn off by it, and whisked into the air like sheets of paper ; while the rain wliich accompa- nied it resembled the rushing of a mighty cataract, rather than the dropping of a shower. The darkness was as great as if the sun had long set and the last re- mains of twilight had come on, occasionally relieved by flashes of vivid lightning streaming through it, which together with the noise of the wind and the thunder, the crash of falling buildings, and the tearing of roofs as they were stripped fi'om the walls pro- duced the most appalling effect I shall pi'obaldy ever witness. This lasted for nearly two hours without intermission ; during which time many of the houses spared by us were blown down, and thirty of our men, Ijesides several of the inhabitants, buried be- neath tluir ruins. Our column was as completely dis* EVACUATION BY THE 13K1TISII. 133 pei-sed as if it had received a total defeat ; some of tlie men flying for shelter behind walls and buildings, and others ftilliiig flat npon the ground to prevent them- selves from being carried away by the tempest ; nay, such was the violence of the wind that two pieces of cannon which stood upon the eminence, were fairly lifted from the ground and borne several yards to tlie J) rear. This second storm, which was most terrifying to the British, unaccustomed as they were to the grand for- ests and heavy rains of America, was, if possible, more destructive than the one of the night before. It commenced about one o'clock in the afternoon and was so awful to the troops that they neglected to fire the post-office, and Congress was thereby saved the neces- sity of being driven to Georgetown or Philadelphia, when it again met in three weeks. After an occupa- tion of twenty-nine hours, the British withdrew and Washington was evacuated. Mrs Madison, after meeting her husband, accom- panied him to the banks of the Potomac, where one small boat was kept ready — of the many others all sunk or removed but that one — to transport the President, ]\Ir. I^louroe, Mr. Bush, Mr. Mason, and Mr. Carroll to the Viiginia shore. The l:)oat was too small to carry all at once, so that several trips were necessary ; and as the shades of night set in upon them, they looked like departing spirits leaving the world behind, to be fei- ried over an inevitable Styx. Bidding them adieu as the last one entered the frail bark, Mrs. Madison returned t* her friends at Georgetown, but agreeably to her huo 134 DOKOTIIY J>. MADISON. build's orders, she started on to a more secure retreat. ' The I'oads were so blocked with wagons that then* progress was very slow, and they left their carriages and walked to relieve their anxiety. Crowds of soldiers, panic- stricken, were retracing their steps to the remnant of troops with General Winder. Families, with their conveyances loaded down with household goods, moved slowly forward, amid the tumult, while the coming darkness increased the general alarm. Long after dark, the party accompanying Mrs. ]\Iadison reached the residence of Mr. Love, on the Virginia side of the Potomac, where they begged the privilege of remain- ing all night. There was little need of beds for tliat agitated band of frightened women, and the night was passed by some in tears ; by Mrs. Madison in sitting by an open window, gazing back upon the weird and fan- tastic ilames as they met and lapped in the far dis- tance. Smothered rumbling noises started the listening ear, jxs ever and anon some huge edifice or wing of a building fell in. The gentlemanly owner of the house was away with the troops, and his wife was ill and alone with her servants, but the sudden visit of so many strangers was no check to the hospitality of the hostess. Every sofa and available substitute was brought into requisition, and all rendered comforta])le. Sleej) was banished from all eyes, even had any been inclined to repose. The clanking, clattering noise of several hundred disorderly cavalrymen around the house kept every one awake, while all felt the desolate weariness of the night w;is Uut a harbinger of the coming day. " What must have been the feelings of FLIGHT INTO VIRGINIA. 135 the occupants of tliat house that summer night, we of the present day cannot realize," writes an eminent his* torian in 1842 ; but those v/ho had not " fallen asleep''" when the summer of 1862 caine upon us, endured sim- ilar hours of anguish, which seared their hearts for- ever. No scene of horror was enacted in or about Washington in that week of excitement that has not been repeatedly paralleled in these later years of civil war. Long before day, the sleepless caravan, with Mrs. Madison at the head, started forward to the place ap- pointed for a meeting with Mr. Madison. Consterna- tion was at its uttermost : the whole resrion filled with frightened people, terrified scouts roaming about and spreading alarm that the enemy were coming from Washington and Alexandria, and that there was safety nowhere. As the day wore on, in which the British were plundering and burning Washington, the storm that sent terror to their superstitious bosoms overtook the tired refugees. But the elemental war, with its bolts of thunder and zigzag lightning penetrating the darkened recesses of the forest, caused no feeling so in- supportable as the flying rumor that the negroes were in revolt, and maddened with drink and promised lib- erty, were roaming in numl)ers, committing every ex- cess, worse than those at Hampton the year before. A.S the day gradually drew to a close, the faint and drenched companions of Mrs. Madison reached the ap- pointed place, sixteen miles fjom Washington. But the President was not there, and here occurred one of those disagreeable scenes that are a disgrace to the name 136 DOROTHY P. MADISON. of liuiiianity, and which, be it said to the shame of her sex, are oftener the acts of woman than of man. Crowds of persons from Washington occupied the tav- ern, and the women dechired that the wife of him who had brought war upon the country, shoukl not find shel- ter with them, its innocent victims. Jaded and ex- hausted from constant travel and want of sleep, the devoted band about Mrs. Madison waited in the storm, urging the tavern-keeper to give them an apartment until the President should arrive. The furious storm grew louder, the sky lowering before, was black as night now, and a tornado of tropical fury set in which spread desolation for many miles around. Women who had repeatedly enjoyed the hospitalities of the White House, been admitted with kind cordiality to drawing-rooms and dinings, now vied with the wife of the landlord in denouncing vehemently the inclination of the men present to admit the Presidential party. Embittered by their real and imaginary wrongs^ they lost all sense of honor and refinement, and stood in their true colors before the lady who never for one moment forgot the dignity becoming her station. She preferred the fury of the storm to contention ; but the escort with her, indignant at the contemptible conduct of the rude persons within, obliged the ungracious oc- cupants to open the doors. The old tavern stood in the midst of an apple orchard laden with ri23ening fruit, and hardly had the travellers left their carriages when the hurricane dashed the apples, ofttimes the en- tire trees, witli fearful strength against the house. Mrs. Madison spread the lunch she had prepared the INGUATITUBE OF THE WOMEN. 187 day before at the White House, and in silence, inter* rupted only by her inquiries for the welfare of her at- tendants, they ate their damp food and smothered the intense disgust they felt for families who only the day before they deemed firm friends. The hours dragged slowly on, and the anxious wife looked in vain for her absent liusband. Did she, in that hour of grief and huraihation, think of her illustrious predecessors who had endured like her the black ins^ratitude of the women of her country ? Had she forgotten that the ladies of Philadelphia, in 177(3, refused to Mrs. Wash- ington similar attention, and treated with scorn the wife of the Commander-in-chief, who was using every human endeavor to organize and establish a conti- nental army ? Or did it recur to her that a time would come when, like Mrs. Washington, she would again, through the brightening prospects of peace, re- ceive the flattering adulation of those very persons, and the respect and admiration of the more cultivated throughout the land ? Did she think of that strong, resolute " Portia" of the Kevolution who, in her mod- est home near the sea, denied and scorned the report that her husband had deserted to the British, yet who patiently submitted to the averted looks, and silent re- proaches of those whom she deemed her friends, and waited for the storm to blow over, and truth once more to triumph ? Philadelphia was a great distance then from the coast of Massachusetts, and mails were brought only at rare intervals, but with her strong faith she trusted in her husband's honor and felt that it was not betrayed. Time corrected the false rumor, 138 DOROTHY P. MADISON. but her heart had been deeply wounded, and It never forgot, if it forgave, the conduct of many who, in her hour of trial, turned against her. Nervous and impatient, Mi's. Madison waited in her inhospitable quarters for the President's coming ; and as night came on, her mind was relieved ])y seeing him approaching, accompanied by the friends with whom sLe left him the night before. He was care- worn and hungry, and after devouring the remnants of her scanty meal, sought the repose he so needed. "That uneasy and humiliating repose, not the last of Mr. Madison's degradations, was, however, the turning point of his fortunes: for while he slept, Koss hastily and clandestine!}^ evacuated Washington, victorand van- quished alike victims of, and fugitives from, imagined perils." But the terrified citizens kne^v not that the British were impotent, and dismayed at the non-aj)- peai-ance of their fleet. Every crash of thunder was to them a source of alarm, and its rumblings in the distant clouds the imagined noise of approaching troops. Tow- ard midnight, a courier, breathless from fatigue and excitement, warned the President that the enemy were coming, and he was compelled to pass the rest of that misei'able night in a hovel in the distant woods, with the boughs sobbing and sighing their requiem around him, and the last efforts of the storm expending itself in moans, while the wind swept through the tall trees. The atmosphere was cooled by the great and prolonged storm, but all nature seemed to weep from exhaustion, and the stillness of the closing hours of the night were in marked contrast to the roar and din of the past twenty-four hours. i\IJ;F. MADISON IN DISGUISE. 139 Mrs. Madison was warned by lier husband to use a disguise, and leaving her carriage and companions, pro- cure another conveyance and fly further. Attended by a nephew of Judge Duvall, she set out accompanied by one soldier, and at the dawn of day left the inhospit- able inn where the most unhappy night of her life had been passed. Her carriage and four horses were left with her friends, and a substitute obtained from a gentleman of Georgetown. Soon tidings reached her that Washing- ton was evacuated, and retracing her steps, she reached after a weary ride the Long Bridge, which had been burned at both ends. Here the officer in charge positive- ly refused to let an unknown woman cross in a carriage in his onl}^ remaining boat. No alternative was left her but to send for him and explain who she was, when she was driven in her carriage upon the dangerous little raft, which bore her nearer home. Keaching Wash- ington, so disguised that no one knew her, in a strange carriage, she found her former home in I'uins, and the noblest buildings reduced to blackened heaps of smok- ing timber. Desolation met her on every side, and the deserted streets were as quiet as the depths of the for- est through which she had passed. Fortunately her sister, Mrs. Cutts, lived in the city, and she repaired there to await Mr. Madison's return. " The memory of the burning of Washington cannot be obliterated. The subject is inseparable from great international principles and usages. It never can be thought of by an American, and ought not to be thought of by an enlightened Englishman, but in conjunction with the deplorable and reprehensible scenes it j'ecalls. It was 140 DOROTHY p. MADISON. no tro-pliy of war for a great nation. History cannot so record it. Our infant metropolis at that time had the aspect of merely a straggling village, but for the size and beauty of its public buildings. Its scattered population scarcely numbered eight thousand ; it had no fortresses or sign of any ; not a cannon was mounted." Late in the morning, news reached the President at his hiding-place in the hovel, that the enemy were re- treating to their shipping — and he, too, turned his steps toward the capital, and found his wife before him. He rented the house called the Octagon, owned by Colonel Tayloe, where his family passed the winter, and where he signed the treaty of peace. It was situated on the north-east corner of New York Avenue and Eighteenth street. He afterward removed to the north-west corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Nineteenth street, where he resided until the President's House was repaired. This house had been previously occupied by the Treasury Depart- ment. On F street, in a house between Thirteenth and Fourteenth streets, now numbered 246, Mr. and Mrs. Madison lived when he was Secretary of State. All three of these residences still remain. At the last New Year's Keception held by Presi- dent Madison, he was dressed in a full suit of cloth of American manufacture, made of the wool of meri- noes raised in the United States. "An old citizen has informed me," says Mr. Gobright, in his "Men and Things at Washington," "that the Invee of Mr. Madison, in February, A BEILLIANT LEVEE. 141 1816, was remembered for years as the most bril- liant ever held up to that date in the Executive Mansion. The Justices of the Supreme Court were present in their gowns, at the head of whom was Chief Justice Marshall. The Peace Commissioners to Ghent — Gallatin, Bayard, Clay, and Russell — were in the company. Mr. Adams alone was absent. The levee was additionally brilliant — the heroes of the war of 1812, Major-Generals Brown, Gaines, Scott, and Ripley, with their aides, all in full dress, forming an attractive feature. The return of peace had restored the kindest feeling at home and abroad. The Federalists and Republicans of both Houses of Congress, party politicians, citizens, and strangers were brought together as friends, to be thankful for the present, and to look forward with de- light to the great future. "The most notable feature of the evening was the magnificent display of the Diplomatic Corps, prominent in which was Sir Charles Bagot, spe- cial ambassador from our late enemy, Gre/it Brit- ain. " It was on this occasion that Mr. Bascot made the remark, that Mrs. Madison ' looked every inch a queen.' "The only incident of a disagreeable character was the coolness toward the French minister (who was very popular with the Republicans) by the Represen- tatives of the Holy Alliance. " Mrs. Madison, like Mr. Clay, was very fond of snuff. The lady offered him a pinch fiom her splendid 142 DOllOTllY r. MADISON. box, wliieli tlie gentleman accepted with the grace for whicli lie was distinguislied. Mrs. Madison put lier Land into her pocket, and pulling out a bandanna handkerchief, said, ' Mr. Clay, this is for rough work,' at the same time applying it at the proper place ; ' and tliis,' producing a fine lace handkerchief from another pocket, * is my polisher.' She suited the actions to the words, removing from her nose the remaining grains of smitlV Mrs. Madison at this time was represented as being a very gay lady, witli much rouge on lier clieeks, and always appearing in a turban. She was fond of bright colors and the elegances of the toilet ; yet she gener- ally wore inexpensive clothing, preserving always the simplicity of a quaker, with the elegance of a lady of taste. Two plain ladies from the West, passing through Washington, determined to see Mrs. Madison ; l)ut as they reached there late at night and were to leave early next day, they were much puzzled to know how tlie feat should be j)erformed. Meeting in the street an old gentlemnn next morning, they timidly approached and nskcd Idm to show them the way to the President's House. Being an old acquaintance of Mrs. Madison's, he took pleasure in conducting the strangers to the White House. The President's ftimily were at breakfast when the party arrived, but Mrs. Madison good-naturedly went in to be seen by the curious old ladies, who were evidently much astonished to find so august a personage in a dark-gray dress and white ajn'on, with a linen handkerchief ])inned about GENEKAL IIAIIKISON AT THE J.EVEE. 143 her neck. Iler friendly welcome soon put tliem at ease, and rising to leave, after a visit never to be for- gotten, one of them said, " Frliaps you wouldn't mind if I jest kissed you, to tell my gals about." Mrs. Madison, not to l)e outdone by her guest's politeness, gracefully saluted each of the delighted old ladies, who adjusted their spectacles, and, Avitli evident ad- miration, departed. At a drawing-room held by Mrs. Madison in 1813, '* General Harrison was the subject of a disj)ute be- tween a lady of great beauty and high, coiniections, and the President. She observed when she went in, that General Harrison had received her commands to meet her at the levee. ' But that he cannot do,' said Mr. Madison, ' because he left Washington this morn- ing, with his horses and attendants, all at the door of this house, and must now be some twenty or thirty miles on his way to the West.' ' Still,' replied the lady, archly, ' he must he here, for I laid my command upon him, and he is too gallant a man to disobey me.' Tlie President rejoined, with his manner of gentle, Init pos- itive assurance, 'we shall soon see whose orders he obeys.' The question was presently settled by the General's appearance;, with his military attendants, in full costume; tlni lady smiling at her tiiiimph over the most successful General of that day and the President of the United States." Mr. Madison was a silent, grave man, whose nature was relieved by a vein of quiet good-humoi', which in his moments of relaxation gave an inexpressible cliarni to his presence. A statesman of vast mind and re- V 144 DOEOTHY P. MADISON. search, lie could not always descend to the graceful little accomplishments which were so attractive to many ladies, and hence he was not so universally admired hy the fair sex as his charming wife was by the gen- tlemen ; but nothing gave him more pleasant satisfac- tion than to feel that Mrs. Madison could do credit to both in the drawing-room, and he was willing to be banished to his cabinet. When Mr. Madison was attending Congress in 1783, he became attached to an interesting and accomj)lished young lady, daughter of an old friend of Mr. Jeffei^on, who was a co-signer with him of the Declaration of Independence.* This attachment, which promised at one time the most auspicious result, terminated at last in disappointment. I cannot forbear to add the fol- lowing extract of a letter addressed to him on the occa- gion by Mr. Jefferson, as connected with an event which is never without importance in the life of a man of vir- tuous sensibilities, and as affording a touching proof of the intimate and fraternal sympathies which united the two friends. " I sincerely lament," he said, " the misadventure which has happened, from whatever cause it may have happened. Should it be final, however, the world still presents the same and many other sources of happiness, and you possess many within yourself. Firmness of mind, and unintermitting occupation will not long leave you in pain. No event has been more contrary to my expectations, and these were founded on what I * General ■Willinin Floyil, one of the delegates of New York. DIPLOMATIC ETIQUETTE. 145 tliouglit a good knowledge of tlie ground. But of all macliiues, ourt* is the most complicated and inexpli- cable." A curious coincidence connected witli three of the the four first Presidents is, that they married widows, and each had been at a previous time seriously inter ested in other ladies. It is also remarkable that nei- ther Washington, Jefferson, Madison, or his successor, had sons, and two of them were childless. Mrs. Madison was not a learned woman, but de- cidedly a talented one, and her name \vill ever be a synonym for all that is chai'ming and agreeable. A Avai"ni admirer of hers was convincing a friend that she was not vain ; " But," said the other, " you tell me she used rouge and powder." " Yes, yes, she did," he replied, " but it was to })lease and gratify those who were thrown with her, not because she was fond of admiration." An anecdote is related of Mrs. Madison in connec- tion with Mrs. Merry, wife of the British Minister, and Thomas Moore, the poet. Mr. and Mrs. Merry were invited to dine with President Jefferson ; when dinner was announced, Mrs. Madison hapjoened to be standing and talking to the President, at some dis- tance from Mrs. Merry, and he offered his arm to her and conducted her to the table, where she always pre- sided when no members of his family were present. This attention to the wife of the Secretary of State was considered by Mrs. Merry as an insult. "Such a stir was made by the angry ambassador, that Mr. Madison wrote to Mr. Monroe (who had succeeded 146 DOROTHY P. MADISON". Mr. King as our Minister to England) apprising liini of the facts, to enable liim to answer an expected call of tlie British Government for official explanations. Mr. Monroe, hoAvever, got his first information from a friendly British under-secretary, who intimated that he would soon probably hear of the matter through a di iferent chann el. The Minister was delighted. W i th- in a very short period, the wife of an English under- secretary had been accorded precedence over his own, under analogous circumstances. He had no great fund of humor, but the absurdity of the whole affair, and the excellent materials in his possession for a reply to a call for explanations, struck him in a most amusing lisfht. Shakini'' with merriment, he hinted to his in- formant the satisfaction the call Avould give him. He never afterward heard a lisp on the subject." President Jt^fferson had abolished all etiquette in regard to official precedence when he went in office, and IMrs. Merry knew this, but she never foi-gave the occurrence, and never afterward went to the White House. Mrs. Madison resrretted beino; the innocent cause of such a trouble, Init she was spared further notoriety by the abscmce of the British Minister or his family ever afterward at the President's reunions. The affair was, however, not destined to end here, for after the first clamor had subsided, the President, through another foreign Minister, inquired if Mr. and Mrs. Merry would accept an invitation to a family din- ner. It was understood that they would accept, and Mr. Jefferson wrote the invitation himself. Mr. Merry addressed a note to the Secretary of State to knoAV if RETIEE TO PRIVATE LIFE. 147 he was invited in Lis private or official capacity ; "if in the one, he must obtain the permission of liis sover- eign ; if in the other, he must receive an assurance in advance that he woukl be treated as became liis posi- tion." Mr. Madison ended tlie correspondence with " a very dry note." Thomas Moore, who was travel- lino; in the United States at this time, and beino- a friend of Mrs. Merry's, and disgusted with his recep- tion, " fell to lampooning the President and every thing American, except a few attentive Federal gentlemen and ladies." In 1817, President Madison's term expired, and his Secretary of State, James Monroe, assumed the duties of President. Washiii2:ton had so lono; been the home of Mrs. Madison, that it was with much regret she prepared to leave the city. Many and dear were her friends, and the society of relatives was another strong link binding her to the city. The National Republican of November 2d, 1831, thus speaks of Mr. and Mrs. Madison : " How must they look in these days on the tem- pestuous sea of liberty ; on the dangers incident to the little barks now floating on its agitated surface. Can tliey feel for the safety of that on which embarked the fortunes of Henry Clay ? We hope and trust they do ; and at any rate we rejoice that, safe in port, they can review with just pride and pleasure their own safe and triumphant voyage, and can recollect the auspi- cious day of their landing. One of them the rallying point, the beginning and end of the cabinet in all of its just works, and the other the chief ornament and glory 148 DOROTHY r. mauison. of the dr.avviii<]j-room, in the purest and most iiitclHgeiit days of our Kcpublic." " Always fond of agricultural pursuits, Mr. Madi- son joyfully returned to bis beautiful and peaceful home. Montpelier was within less than a day's ride of Monticello, and in the estimate of a Virginian, Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison were neighbors. " Embosomed among the hills which lie at the foot of the South Mountain, is the paternal estate of Mr. Madison. A large and commodious mansion, designed moi'c for comfort and hospitality than ornament and display, rises at the foot of a high wooded hill, which, while it affords shelter from the north-west winds, adds much to the picturesque beauty of the scene. The grounds around the house owe their ornaments more to nature than art, as, with the exception of a fine gar- den behind, and a wide-spread lawn before the house, for miles around the ever-varying and undulating sur- face of the ground is covered witli forest trees. The extreme salubrity of the situation induced the pro- pi'ietor to call it Montpelier. " One wing of the house during her life-time, waa exclusively appropriated to the venerable and vene- rat(Hl motlier of Mr. Madison, to which were attached offices and gardens, forming a separate establishment, wlicu'e this aged matron preserved the habits and the hours of her early life, attended by old family slaves, and surrounded by her children and grandchildren. " Under the same roof, divided only by a partition wall, were thus exhibited the customs of the beginning and end of a century ; thus offering a strange but MONITELIER. 149 most interesting exhibition of the differences between the olden and the present age. By only opening a door, the observer passed from the elegancies, refine- ments, and gayeties of modern life into all that was venerable, respectable, and dignified in gone-by days ; from the airy apartments — windows opening to the ground, hung with light silken drapery, French furni- ture, light fancy chairs, gay carpets, cfec, tfec, to the solid and heavy carved and polished mahogany furni- ture darlvcni'd by age, the thick rich curtains, and other more comfortable adjustments of our great- grandfathers' times. It was considered a great favor and distinction by the gay visitors who thronged Mrs. Madison's hospitable mansion, to be admitted to pay the homage of their respects to his reverend mother." The last time the writer * enjoyed that privilege, she was then in her ninety-seventh year. She still rctahied all her faculties, though not free from the bodily in- firmities of age. She was sitting, or rather reclining, on a couch ; beside her was a small table filled with large, dark, and worn quartos and folios of most vener- able a]:)pearance. She closed one as we entered, and took lip her knitting which lay beside her. Among other in- quiries, I asked her how she passed her time, " I am never at a loss," she replied, " this and these (touching her knitting and Ihu- books) keep me always busy ; look at my fingers, and you will perceive I have not been idle." In truth, her delicate fingers were polished by her knitting-needles. " And my eyes, thanks be to M. II. S., 1836. 150 DOROTHY P. MADISON. God, have not failed me yet, and I read most part of the day ; but in other respects I am feeble and help- less, and owe every thing to her," pointing to Mrs. Madison, who sat by us. '* She is my mother now, and tenderly cares for all my wants." My eyes were filled with tears as I looked from the one to the other of these excellent women, and thought of the tender ties by which they were united. Never, in the midst of a splendid drawing-room, surrounded by all that was courtly and brilliant, all that was admired and re- spected — ^the centre of attraction — the object of ad- miration — never was Mrs. Madison so interesting, so lovely, so estimable, as in her attendance on this ven- erable woman, the acknowledged object of her grate- ful affection. " Much as she graced her public station, she has not been less admirable in domestic life. Neighborly and companionable among her country friends, as if she had never lived in a city; delighting in the society of the young, and never better pleased than when promoting every youthful pleasure by her participa- tion ; she still proved herself the affectionate and de- voted wife during the years of suffering health of her excellent husband. Without neglecting the duties of a kind hostess, a faithful friend and relative, she soothed and enlivened, occupied and amused, the languid hours of his long confinement ; he knew, aj> preciated, and acknowledged the blessing which heav- en had bestowed on him in giving him such a wife." From a daughter of Virginia, who was once an in- mate of the White House, I have gathered the follow* MRS. Madison's popularity. 151 ing words of interest from a letter in reference to th(? subject of this sketcli : "My recollections of Mrs. Madison are of the most agreeable nature, and were formed from a long, inti- mate acquaintance beginning in my childhood and ending only with her life. She had a sweet, natural dignity of manner which attracted while it commanded respect; a proper degree of reserve without stiffness in company with strangers ; and a stamp of frankness and sincerity which, with her intimate friends, became gay- ety and even playfulness of manner. There was, t;O0 a cordial, genial, sunny atmosphere surrounding her, which won all hearts — I think one of the secrets of her immense popularity. She was said to be, during Mr. Madison's administration, the most popular person in tlie United States, and she certainly had a remark- able memory for names and fices. No person intro- duced to Mrs. Madison at one of the croAvded levees at the White House required a second introduction on meeting her again, but had the gratification of being recognized and addressed by his or her own name. Her son, Paine Todd, was a notoriously l^ad character. His misconduct was the sorrow of his mother's life. Mr. Madison, during his lifetime, bore with him like a father and paid many of his debts, but he was an in- corrigible spendthrift. His heartless, unprincipled con- duct embittered the last years of his mother's life, and no doubt shortened it." At about sixty -six years of age Mr. Madison retired from public life, and ever after resided on his estate in Virginia, except about two months while at Eiclimond 152 UOIIOTIIY p. MADJSOjST. iiH .'I iiieinhor of the cunveiitloii in 1829, wliicli sat tliere to roinodel the coiistitntiou of tli.'it state. His fiirm, liis l)ooks, liis fritMids, and his correspondence, were the sources of his enjoyment and occupation during tlie twenty years of his retirement. During most of tliat time Ids liealth, never j'ohust, was as good as usual, and he jtartook with pleasure of the exercise and the con- viviality in which he had always enjoyed himself. At eighty-dve years of age, though much reduced l)y debility, his mind was bright, his niemuryretentivci, and his conversation highly instructive and delightful. Sulfering with disease he never repined. Serene and even lively, he still loved to discuss the constitution, to inculcate the ])ublic good, and to charge his friends with l)lessings for liis country. He was long one of th(! most interesting shrines to which its votaries re- paired : a relic of repuldican virtue which none could contem])late without reverence and edification. On the 28tli of June, 188G, he died; as serene, philosophical, and calm in the last moments of exist- ence as he had been in all the trying occasions of life. In the winter of 1836, Mrs. Madison wrote to President Jackson in regard to a manuscript left by her husband and which he inteiuled for publication. Tlie copyright had becui offered to several publishing houses, but their offers had fallen so far below her expectations that she determined to lay the matter be- fore the Chief Magistrate. In a s})ccial message, the President communicated the contents of her letter to Congress, and the manuscript was ])urchased as a na- tional work, and thirty thousand dollars paid her for it A nation's gratitude. 153 Tlie novel and interesting features of the case, the venerable relict of one of the founders of the Kepub- lic coming before the country with a manuscript pre- cious in its relation to its national destiny, were such that the proposition was not to be met with a cold ap- preciation of merits, or with nice questions of congres- sional power. It was this feeling also which induced Congress to pass a subsequent act, giving to Mrs. Madison the honorary privilege of a copyright in for- eign countries. The woi'k is a record of the Debates in the congress of the convention during the years 1782-1787. Congress also conferred the franking privilege upon Mrs. Madison, and voted her a seat upon the floor of the Senate. The last twelve years of Mrs. Madison's life were spent in Washington, where she mingled in the society of the young and happy, as well as the aged and re- cluse. Many reniend)er her dignified bearing, and gentle, kind mannei* in her old age, and it was consid- ered a pleasure to be a guest where she was to be present. On New Years and Fourth of July, she held public receptions, and tlie throng of visitors was equal to that which assembled at the President's house. She took up her residence in Washington in 1837, in the house in which she died. This house was built by President Madison in 1819; after her death it was purchased by Captain Wilkes and by him enlarged. Clark's unpublished reminiscences contains tlie foUowino; : — " Mrs. D. P. Madison, the venerable widow of 154 DOROTHY p. MADISON. James Madison, ex-President of the Uuited States, died on tlie 12tli of July, 1849, at ber residence in Washington City, southeast corner of H street, North and Madison Place ; aged about 82 years. " Beloved by all who personally knew her, and uni- versally respected, this venerable lady closed her long and well-spent life with the calm resignation which goodness of heart, combined with piety, only can im- part. Her funeral took place on the 16th, from St. John's Episcopal Church. Her remains were deposited in the cemeteiy at Montpelier, Virginia, near the mon- ument erected over the grave of her illustrious hus- band. V. ELIZA K. MONROE. The era in wliicli Mrs. Monroe lived, was the most eventful in the histoiy of nations, and her record is of interest and value, in a twofold degree. The women who stamp the influence of their virtues on a time of public excitement and wonderful changes, bear in their natures strength of character worthy of emulation ; and they become the benefactors of suc- ceeding ages, as they were the blessings of theii* own. The memorials of such should be familiar to the chil- dren of America, ^vho under tlie genius of Republican institutions, are the inheritors of, and successors to, their fame and positions. No daughter of Columbia should be ignorant of the history and experiences of their national ancestors, whose lives were beautiful in their simplicity, and rich in varied experiences. The richest treasure our country possesses is the fame of her children ; and her noblest legacy to j)os- terity should be the annals of those, who by their tal- ents have adorned, and by their wisdom sustained, the pioneers of liberty in their first w^eak efforts. Of sucli a class was Mrs. Monroe, whose husband for half a century reaped the reward of his country's constancy, and filled in tliat period more important offices than any other man in the United States. Statesmen in this country are too often forced to give way to politicians, and patriots to demagogues. 156 ELIZA K. MONROE. The perj^etual agitations of a Republic carry up on tlie flood those who in turn are swept down with the tide .; while in the commotion many are lost to history. But this is less the case with Viro-inia statesmen than with any other class of public men. Whatever may be said of the ingratitude of other States, the " Old Mother " has been true to her children, and the caprice and changeableness of younger commonwealths but renders her trust and confidence the more conspicuous. And if she has trusted implicitly the integrity of her offspring, she has been rewarded by the love and fidel- ity of the noblest public men of the nation. The inauguration of Washington at New York, in 1789, was followed by the immediate assembling of Congress, and thither went Mr. Monroe as Senator from Virginia, accompanied by Mr. Jefferson, the newly-appointed Secretary of State. The ancient seat of the Dutch dynasty on this Continent was a place of much wealth ; and not the least of its possessions were the bright-eyed, rosy- cheeked descendants of the rich old Patroons, whose delight knew no bounds when their city was chosen as the capital. No less pleased were their fathers who, in their capacities as merchants and capitalists, hoj^ed to achieve new honors and increased wealth. The festivities which subsequently followed the in- auguration were attended by all the members of Con- gress, who, as strangei's of distinction, received the largest share of the young belles' attention. Promi- nent among these belles was Miss Eliza Kortright, the daughter of Lawrence Koi'tright, a former captain AN INSUFFICIENT IlECOED, 157 in the Britisli army. After the peace of 1783, lie re* mained with his family in New York, where his chil- dren were reared and educated. Of this interesting family there were one son and four daughters, two ol whom, Mrs. Hileger and Mrs. Knox, were married, when Congress assembled in their adopted city. The time and place of Mrs. Monroe's marriage can- not be definitely ascertained, as no record has been retained by any of her survivors ; but it must have been during the year 1789, since Congress assembled there but one term, and it was during this session that Senator Monroe met her. Soon after their marriage they took up their abode in Philadelphia, whither the seat of the General Government had been removed. In this position he remained until 1794, when he was appointed from the Senate to be Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to France. Thus is shad- owed forth the five years of Mrs. Monroe's life suc- ceeding her marriage. Nothing more definite can be gathered. It is a matter of regret that no biographer of her day anticipated the needs of a coming genera- tion, and did not, with all the facts and incidents fresh in his mind, give an impartial account of the every-day existence of the woman whose memory appeals now for justice. She had her troubles and trials, her triumphs and pleasures, doubtless, for no station is exempt from the one, or bereft of the other. Sketches of women are too often fulsome panegyrics, alike unjust and disgusting, but such cannot be said of the admirers of Mrs. Monroe. Not a line was written of her during ber life, save a mention after her husband's 158 ELIZA K. MONROE. election to the Presidency, nor has any history of his life been written from which to glean even a mention of her name. This is a remarkable fact, that in none of the public libraries of New York or Brooklyn, is there any history of a man who occupied the Presi- dential chair eight years, and whose record shoukl be the inheritance of his descendants. A brief sketch, written many years _ago, is all that could be found, and there is no mention of his wife in it. All the details of Mrs. Monroe's existence are lost, and nothing of interest remains. Misfortunes and sorrows, those blessings of the Di- vine Spii'it thi'ough whose agencies are developed every latent gift, are forgotten now, for the meagre incidents narrated contain no allusion to the inner life of one who for so many years counselled as wife and friend, and shed a ray of light on the pathway of Mr. Monroe, Some lives there are filled from the cradle to the gi-ave with all matei'ial gifts requisite for happiness. Some natures there are never called to suffer agony ; gentle, quiet characters, fragrantly blossoming through all the summer of their existence, and only leaving life when snows and wintry weather close the avenues of enjoyment. Such lives rarely attain for themselves great heights, or win an immortality, but gliding through the accustomed haunts of men receive their impressions from stronger natures and allow some master hand to influence and guide their lives. With this class of persons happiness is their only possible means of expansion. The entire formation of such characters requires absolute prosperity or they become KEPKESENT.S HER COUNTRYWOMEN AT ST. CLOUD. 159 dwarfed. There is with them no rebound, no reaction in which is streugtli to loosen the inharmonious bonds or to dechi,re themselves free agents, accoimtable tc their own inner natures for any external erior. A wo* man of this mould rightly married is winged for a successful life ; discordantly mated, she leads an au- tomaton existence from which there is no deliverance. If such lives are in distinct contradistinction to those intense fibrous-nerved persons whose joy ofttimes is in the heart of pain, they have one plefising reflection, that if in their negative way they enjoy less, they evi- dently escape those shafts of agony which bury them- selves in high-wrought natures, and inspire them to deeds of greatness. Of gentle and winning manners was Mrs. Monroe, and possessed of a face upon which beauty was written in unmistakable lines. Tall and gracefully formed, polished and elegant in society, she was one fitted to re- present her countrywomen at the court of St. Cloud. Her position, as the wife of a wealthy Virginia Sena- tor, surrounded by luxury and prosperity, proud of her husband and of her country, was calculated to en- hance the pleasure of a trip to Europe, while the com- parative infrequeucy of a voyage across the Atlantic heightened the pleasure with which she received the announcement of his appointment. Young and ambitious, full of enthusiasm and ad- miration for the principles of a free government, Mr. Monroe left the shores of his native land, whose lib- erty he had so recently assisted in establishing. He had entered the service of his country as a cadet in a 160 ELIZA K. MONllOE. coips uiitl(n' tlie conimaiul of tlie gallant General Mer- cer, of Virginia. Soon afterward hu was appointed a lieutenant, and joined the army at New York. Fol- lowing the fortunes of the " chief," he was with him at Trenton, Princeton, Brandywiue, Germanto>yn and •'Monmouth. Retiring from the staff of Lord Stirling, where he had served two campaigns, after being wounded in the shoulder at Trenton, he repaired to Virginia to raise a regiment. From various causes he failed in this undertaking, and did not return to the army but entered Mr. Jefferson's office as a student at law. A member of the Legislature, and at the age of twenty-four elected to the Continental Congress, from which he passed to the Congress of the United States, we find him from his earliest boyhood devoted to the land of his birth, and serving it in these various positions of honor and eminence. But glowing with youthful admiration for the Republic he had left behind, he was not careful to conceal his feelings in imperial France, and lience made himself unpopular with those in power. He was deemed too enthusiastically engaged in the feelings of revolutionaiy France to do justice to his own country, and he was recalled by Washington. In August, 1792, Lafayette was taken prisoner by the Austrians, and after being thrown like a criminal in tbe Prussian dungeon at Wesel on the Rhine, was transferred successively to Magdeburg, Glatz, Neisse and finally to Olmutz. Li this Austrian dungeon he was convinced by the rigor of his confinement and the brutal treatment of his captors that his fate was sealed. Down in his dark cell, ten paces deei>, where the raiu SYMPATHY FOK MADAME LAFAYETTE. 101 fclirougli tlie loop-holes poured, and the sun did not shine, the young defender of American liberty lay chained, while the weary mouths dragged by, and no word of hope or certainty of death came from his wife and children left behind in Paris. Wasted by disease, deprived of light, aii', and decent food, — the loathsome dampness and tilth of his dungeon so reducing him that his hair fell from him entirely by the excess of his sutferings, his cruel tormentors cheered his gloom and oppression by no word or look of sympathy. Ameiica knew the fate of his loved ones, and while his estates were coniiscated, his wife in the prison of La Force, and his little children, tw^o of whom shared the confinement of their mother, awaiting the wrath of their ojipressors, the agents of the country whose once hopeless cause he had espoused, were actively employ- ed in behalf of their former friend. It is not to be wondered that Mrs. J\Ionroe shared the feeling entertained by her husband, or that her warmest womanly feelings were stirred by the recital of Madame Lafayette's w^oes. The Marquis de Lafayette was adored by Americans, and the indignities heaptsd upon his heroic wife could scarcely be borne by the Minister and his family, when they felt that the death of a martyr would be the result of her cruel and 2)ro- tracted confinement. The lofty position America had just assumed among the nations of the eai-th, and the respect engendered by her success, rendered her Min- isters in foreign counti'ies objects of special attention and regard. When Mr. Monroe decided to risk dis- pleasiu'e by sending his wife to see Madame Lafayette, 162 ELIZA K. MOKROE. he appreciated the decided effect it would have for e:ood or evil. He well knew that eitlier it would meet CD with signal success and be of benefit to his unfortunate friend, or render her slight claim to clemency yet more desperate. Enlisted as his feelings were, he determin- ed to risk the die, and Mrs. Monroe was consulted in regard to the j)lan. To her husband's anxious queries, she replied calmly, and assured him of her ability to control and sustain herself. As the carriage of the American Minister, adorned with all the outward emblems of rank, halted before the entrance of the prison, the keeper advanced to kn.ow the object of the visit. Mrs. Monroe, with firm step and steady voice, alighted and made known her business, and to her surprise was conducted to the re- ception room, while the ofiicial retii'ed to make known her request. Her heart beat loudly as she alone lis- tened to the tread of the jailer as he closed the heavy door and passed down the long hall which separated the cells. After a lapse of time, which to one in her nervous state seemed an age, she heard the footsteps retui^ning, and soon the opening of the ponderous door discovered to her astonished view the presence of the emaciated prisoner, assisted by her guard. The emotion of the marchioness was touching in the extreme, and she sank at the feet of Mrs. Monroe, unable to articulate her joy. All day she had been expecting the summons to prepare for her execution, and when the silence of her cell was disturbed by the approach of the gendarmes, her last hope was fast departing. Instead of the cruel A VISIT THAT SAVES A LIFE. 163 announcement, — the assurance that a visitor awaited her presence in the receiving-room of the prison, and on findino; in that visitor tlie American Ambassadress, the representative of her husband's adopted home, her long-pent feelings found relief in sobs. The reaction was sudden, and the shock more than her feeble framo^ could bear. The presence of the sentinels precluded all efforts at conversation, and both hesitated to peril the frail chance of life, or to abuse the unheard-of privilege of an interview. After a painful stay of short duration Mrs. Monroe rose to retire, assuring her friend in a voice audible to her listeners, for whom it was intend- ed, that she would call the following morning, and then hastened to relieve the anxiety of her husband. Madame Lafayette's long-delayed execution had been decided upon, and that very afternoon she was to have been beheaded, but the unexpected visit of the Minis- ter's wife altered the minds of the officials, and to the surprise of all, she was liljerated the next morning. The prestige of the young Repul)lic was appreciated by the French in power, and they dared not, from motives of self-interest, sacrifice a lady in whom the American Minister was so directly interested. They had not forgotten with what admiration the peoj^le of the United States looked upon her Lusband, the Mar- quis de Lafayette. Deaf to all the entreaties of her friends, and firm in her determination to carry immediate consolation to the dungeon of her persecuted husband, Madame Lafayette sent her eldest son, George Washington, to 1G4 ELIZA K. MONROE. Americca for safety, to the care of General Wasliington, and she then k^ft Paris accompanied by her two daughters in disguise, and under the protection of American passports. Passing under tlie name of Mrs. Motier, she landed at Altona on the ninth of September, 1*795, and after repeated difficulties eventually reached the prison, where she was notified that if she passed its threshold, she must remain. The heroic woman -signed her consent and deter- mination, " to share his captivity in all its details," be- ing " fully distermined never again to expose herself to the horrors of another separation." The two most conspicuous men of their age, George Washington and Napoleon Bonaparte, effected by tlieir cooperation the release of Lafayette and liis deeply- injured family, — the former after an imprisonment of more than five years, the latter, a period of twenty- two months. Mr. Monroe was recalled, and after his return to America, he published a justification of his conduct while abroad; the pamphlet settled nothing, but justi- fied both parties in tlie views which they had taken. Thus was Mrs. Monroe's short stay in Europe brought to a termination. In many ways it had been pleasant and beneficial, and, although she re- gretted her husband's unfortunate recall, she rather joyed in ihe conduct which had produced this result. Unacquainted with diplomacy and the line of action necessary between nations, she allowed her own feel- ings to decide her movements, and honored the samp HUMANE IF NOT DIPLOMATIC. 165 spirit in her linsband. The privilege of being a succor and means of relief to Madame Lafayette satisfied, lier more than ministerial honors, and she would rather have performed, this deed prompted by Mr. Monroe's advice than remained the wife of the Ambassador. Paris then, as now, though in a less degree, was the centre of all that was to be enjoyed, and Mrs. Monroe did not regret her stay there, though so ab- ruptly ended. This first trip over the tedious waters was fraught with interest and improvement to both. New fields of thought were explored by them, and the expanse of their souls, under a sense of freedom and change, gained for their ultimate happiness more than mere worldly honors could give or take away. Thus in the devious windins^s of life we are con- stautly reminded that after the lesson is the application, and experience pronounces both, though hard to bear, necessary for ultimate progression. Mrs. Monroe returaed to New York with her husband, who was looked upon as a disgraced minister, and being the first who had been so designated, was viewed by his friends with deep sympathy. For a time the society of her family and friends soothed the sensi- tive feelings of Mrs. Monroe, but she soon afterwards accompanied her husband to Virginia, where he was at oDce chosen governor. This evidence of affection gladdened the hearts of both recipients, and during the constitutional term of three years, through which he served, Mrs. Monroe added to the dignity and success of his official life by her uniform and acceptable course. The capital of IGO ELIZA K. M0NK0J3. the State at that time was Williamsburg, a place of refined hospitality and sociability, and here the true beauty of the Governor's wife was discovered under the most delicate circumstances, as well as during the most pleasing occasions. After President Jefferson came into power, he ap- pointed Mr. Monroe Envoy Extraordinary to the Court of France, to act with Mr. Livingston in nego- tiating for the purchase of Louisiana. As soon as he arrived on the French soil, Mr. Livingston wrote as fol- lows to him : — Paris, 10th of April, 1803. Dear Sir : — I congratulate you on your safe ar- rival. We have long and anxiously wished for you. God grant that your mission may answer your and the public expectation. War may do something for us ; notliing else would. I have paved the way for you, and if you could add to my memoirs an assurance that we were now in possession of New Orleans, we should do well. But I detain Mr. Beutalon, who is im- patient to fly to the arms of his wife. I have apprized the minister of your arrival, and told him you would be here on Tuesday or Wednesday. Present my com- pliments and Mrs. Livingston's to Mrs. Monroe, and believe me, dear sir, your friend and humble servant, Robert R. Livingston. After the business of the treaty was arranged, Mr. Monroe was sent as Minister to London, to succeed Mr. King, who wished to return home. From there he DOMESTIC LIFE AT OAK HILL. 107 was ordered to Spain, which country he \dsited by way of Paris. Mrs. Monroe accompauied him in all his wanderings, and returned with him to England soon after the death of Mr. Pitt. Mr. Monroe was minister to England when the at- tack upon the frigate Chesapeake placed the two coun- tries already irritated, in a hostile attitude, and finding his position at the St. James anything but pleasaut, he returned to this country. Thus did Mrs. Monroe spend almost ten years in Europe, returning only when the country was plunging again into a second war with the mother land. She gladly sought retirement at Oak Hill, her husband's Virginia home, and the following years passed in the enjoyment of the serene pleasures of country life. Mr. Monroe, engaged during the day in reading and taking the general supervision of his plantation, left her the care of their two daughters, and the household duties, which in a Virginia home were always arduous. But this quiet home life was not destined to last, and the husband and father resumed the duties of a politician, and was elected to the Legislature. In a few months he was again chosen Governor of the old commonwealth, and continued to discharge the duties of that office until chosen Secretary of State by Presi- dent Madison. When the war of 1812 was declared, Mrs. Monroe was living in Washington City, dispensing the duties of a minister's wife and enjoying the society of her two daughters. As the strife came nearer home and the capital 1(>8 ELIZA K. iAIONKOK. was tlireatened, she returned to Oak Hill, and there remained until peace was finally proclaimed. Anxious and uneasy about her husband, who was ever beside the President, she yet felt that her place was at her own home, that he might feel assured of the safety of herself and children. In 1817, Mr. Monroe became President of the United States and removed his family to the White House, where they continued to reside during both terms of his administration. Mrs. Monroe was spoken of at this time by the leading paper of the day as follows : — "Mrs. Monroe is an elegant, accomplished woman. She possesses a charming mind and dignity of man- ners which peculiarly tit her for her elevated station. Her retired domestic habits will be much annoyed by what is here called society, if she does not change the etiquette (if it may be called so), established by Mrs. Washington, Adams, and Madison, a routine which her feeble constitution will not permit her to encounter. To go through it, she must become a perfect slave to the sacrifice of her health. The secretaries, senators, foreign ministers, consuls, auditors, accountants, officers of the navy and army of every grade, farmers, mer- chants, parsons, priests, lawyers, judges, auctioneers and nothingarians — all Avith their wives and some with their gawky offspring, crownl to the President's house every Wednesday evening; some in shoes, most in boots, and many in spurs; some snuffing, others chew- ing and many longing for their cigars and whiskey- punch left at home. Some with powdered heads, THE WHITE HOUSE KEBUILT. 109 otliers frizzled and oiled, with some whose heads a comb has never touched, half hid by dirty collars, reaching far above their ears as stiff as paste-board/' . And an English writer comments in a similar strain: " Mrs. Monroe is a lady of retired and domestic habits, not ungraceful and apparently very amiable. " Having resided in Europe with her husband, she has acquired some of its manners and a good deal of its polish. She receives company, but returns no visits ; she seems more attached to the silence and peace of obscurity, than the bustle, confusion and glare of public assemblies. But to preserve a custom estab- lished by her predecessor, a lady it is said, of great elegance of manners and much dignity of deportment, she gives what are termed ' drawing rooms' for the pur- pose of gratifying the wishes and curiosity of such strangers as may please to visit her and the President. " These drawing rooms are conducted on principles of republican simplicity, and are widely different from the magnificence and splendor of the English levees. They appeared to me, however, very unpleasant ; the rooms are so crowded, the hum of voices so loud, and the motion of the company so incessant, that the possi- bility of continuing a conversation on any subject is wholly precluded, and you are jostled every instant without the power of enjoying the ' feast of reason,'' or even the pleasure of the senses." The White House had been partly rebuilt when Mr. Monroe became President, but it possessed but few comforts and no elegance. The furniture was not of the kind nor quality befitting the house of the Chief 170 ELIZA K. MONROE. Magistrate, and the debris of tlie former ill-fated building lay in heaps about the mansion. The country being once more at peace, Congress ordered Consul Lee, then residing at Paris, to purchase a silver service of plat(\ which was forwarded at once, and which has continued in use until replaced by a niore modern and expensive set in March, '69. About the same time was bought for the East Room the furniture which now adorns that famous apartment. When the purchase was made in Paris, each article was surmounted by the royal crown of Louis XVIII. Tills ornament of gilt was removed, and the American Eagle substituted before it was sent from France. To the thoughtful mind this furniture is of interest in so far as it recalls the dead who have long Bince crumbled back to dust, yet, whose memory is associated with the chairs and ottomans still remaininsr where they were placed years ago. True, they have been often repaired, but the original eagles are as bright as when they left the shores of tlie Empire, to grace the house of the Republic. Mrs. Monroe mingled but little in the society of Washington, and always secluded herself from the ob- servation of the throno". Her health was frail during: the latter years of her life in the White House, and she became more than ever a recluse. In a recent publication there is a copy of an old letter written by Mr. Cooper, in which he thus men- tions a dinner and a reception at the White House during Mr. Monroe's time. ^' On this occjision we were honored with the pres- A DINNER AND RECEPTION. l7l ence of Mi*s. ^loiiroe, and two or throe of her female relatives. Crossing the hall we were admitted to a drawing-room, in which most of the company were already assembled. The lioui' was six. By far the greater part of the guests were men, and perhaps two- thirds were members of Congress. " There was great gravity of mien in most of the company, and neither any very marked exhibition, nor any positively striking want, of grace of manner. The conversation was commonplace, and a little sombre, though two or three men of the world got around the ladies, where the battle of words was maintained with sufficient spirit. ****** Xo me the enter- tainment had rather a cold than a formal air. When dinner was' announced, the oldest Senator present (there were two, and seniority of service is meant) took Mrs. Monroe and led her to the table. The rest of the party followed without much order. The President took a lady, as usual, and preceded the rest of the guests. ^ * * * * ^ "The dining-room was in better taste than is com- mon here, being quite simple and but little furnished. The table was large and rather handsome. The service was in china, as is uniformly the case, plate being ex- ceedingly rare, if at all used. There was, however, a rich jylateau, and a great abundance of the smaller articles of table plate. The cloth, napkins, &c., tfec, were fine and beautiful. '•The dinner was served in the French style, a little Americanized. The dishes were handed around, though 172 ELIZA K. MONROE. some of tlie guests, appearing to prefer their own cus- toms, coolly helped themselves to what they found at hand. "Of attendants there were a good many. They were neatly dressed, out of livery, and sufficient. To conclude, the whole entertainment might have passed for a better sort of European dinner-party, at which the guests were too numerous for general or very agreeable discourse, and some of them too new to be entirely at their ease. " Mrs. Monroe arose, at the end of the dessert, and withdrew, attended by two or three of the most gal- lant of the company. " No sooner was his wife's back turned than the President reseated himself, inviting his guests to imi- tate the action. After allowing his guests sufficient time to renew, in a few glasses, the recollections of similar enjoyments of their own, he arose himself, giv- ing the hint to his company, that it was time to rejom the ladies. "In the drawing-room coffee was served, and every one left the house before nine." ****** " On the succeeding Wednesday, Mrs. Monroe open- ed her doors to all the world. No invitation was neces- sary, it being the usage for the wife of the President to receive company once a fortnight during the session, without distinction of persons. We reached the White House at nine. The court (or rather the grounds) was filled with carriages, and the company was arriving in great numbers. On this occasion, two HAISTD-SHAKINGS. 173 or three additional drawing-rooms were opened, though the frugality of Congress has prevented them from finishing the principal reception-room of the building. I will acknowledge the same sort of surprise I felt at the Castle Garden fete, at finding the assemblage so respectable in air, dress, and deportment. The evening at the White House, or drawing-room, as it is some- times pleasantly called, is, in fact, a collection of all classes of people who choose to go to the trouble and expense of appearing in dresses suited to an ordinary evening party. I am not sure that even dress is much regarded, for I certainly saw a good many there in boots. The females were all neatly and properly attired, though few were ornamented with jewelry. Of course, the poor and laboring classes of the com- munity would find little or no pleasure in such a scene. The infamous, if known, would not be admitted, for it is a peculiar consequence of the high tone of morals in this country, that grave and notorious offenders rarely presume to violate the public feeling by invading society. " Squeezing through the crowd, we achieved a pas- sage to a part of the room where Mrs. Monroe was standing, surrounded by a bevy of female friends. After making our bow here, we sought the President. The latter had posted himself at the top of the room, where he remained most of the evening, shaking hands with all who approached. Near him stood all the secretaries, and a great number of the most dis- 174 ELIZA K. MONROE. tinguished men of the nation. Individuals of import- ance from all parts of the Union were also here, and were employed in the manner usual to such scenes. Besides these, one meets here a great variety of people in other conditions of life. I have known a cartman to leave his horse in the street and go into the recep- tion-room to shake hands with the President. He offended the good taste of all present, because it was not thought decent that a laborer should come in a dirty dress on such an occasion ; but while he made a trifling mistak(3 in this particular, he proved how well he understood the difference between government and society. He knew the levee was a sort of homage paid to political equality in the person of the First Magis- trate, but he would not have presumed to enter the house of the same person as a private individual, without being invited, or without a reasonable excuse in the way of business.''^ After Mr. Monroe retired fi'om office, he returned to his home in Loudon County, and engaged with Messrs. Jefferson and Madison in establishing the University of Virginia. This occupation formed a pleasant pastime to him, and was of lasting benefit to his beloved State. Afterward, he was chosen Presi- dent of the Virginia Convention to amend the Con- stitution of his native State. Meanwhile Mrs. Monroe found womanly employment for hands and heart in caring for those dependent upon her bounty, and en- tertaining the various throngs who delighted to do honor to the three ex- Presidents of the United States, and sons of the old commonwealth. JULY 4, 1831. 175 Her two daughters were married and gone from home, the eldest, Eliza, the wife of Judge Hay, of Virginia, and Maria, wedded to her first cousin Samuel L. Gouvcrneur, of New York.* She was now alone and becoming aged, and was pleasing herself with the de- lusion that after so many years of public life, her hus- band would spend the evening of his days with her, around the fireside. But he felt as if he could never cease to serve Virginia. Long after his duty to his country had been performed and she had dismissed him with plaudits and laurel wreaths, he struggled under accumulated infirmities and trials, and to the last hearkened to the voice of his State. The last public position he held was a magistracy in the county of Loudon, where he resided, and was as attentive and devoted to the performance of every duty as when holding the highest office in the gift of the people. Mrs. Monroe died suddenly in 1830, and thus was ended the old home-life. Oak Hill was closed, and the crushed husband sought refuge from loneliness in the home of his youngest daughter, whose devoted aifec- tion soothed his pathway to the grave. Less than a year after Mrs. Monroe's death her husband was preparing to join her in her spirit-home. On the 4th of July, 1831, the anniversary of Ameri- can Independence, just five years after his predecessors had quitted this scene of their labor and their tri- umph, he, too, joined them. " There is a (juiet, beautiful cemetery on the north * The latter was married in the Green Room in the White House (March, 1820), at the age of seventeen. 176 ELIZA K. MONROE. side of Second street, in tliis city (New York) between First and Second Avenues, separated from the side- walk by a tall iron fence, j)laced upon a granite foun- dation. The shrubbery is always clean and vigorous ; the grass is always the greenest, and the walks are scru- pulously neat. There are many tasteful and appropri- ate monuments to the dead that sleep within this beau- tiful inclosure ; but to the memory of the most famous of its dumb inhabitants there is no mar])le shaft, no obelisk, not even a head-stone, erected. But upon a simple slab of marble that lies flat, some two feet square, upon the earth, and is almost covered by grass, is the following inscription : JAMES MONROE, ROBERT TILLOTSON, vault No. 147. There is nothing to indicate that the James Mon- roe mentioned is the Monroe who was in the battle of White Plains, and received a ball in the shoulder at the attack on Trenton, who fought by the side of La- fayette at Brandywine, who was Minister to France in 1*794, and afterward to England ; who was Secretary of State in 1811, and for two full terms President of these United States. Yet such is the fact, and that weather-stained slab of marble, two feet square, is all the monument that Ex-President Monroe has. It is a curious neglect that leaves the precious dust of one of the pvrest patriots that our country has been blest THE PKESIDENt's GRAVE. '177 with, to rest in such obscurity. Thousands pass every day by the spot admiring the well-kept grounds, paus- ing for the fragrance of the flowering shrubs, listening to the songs of the birds that find this oasis in the citv's desert, but never dreamino; that the author of the Monroe Doctrine, the fourth President of the Uni- ted States, lies within a few feet of them. Monuments to men of half his intellectual stature, and a tithe- of his industry and goodness of heart, are going up all over the land. Shall he who ^vas re- elected to the Presidency by a vote unanimous with a single exception, and who never disgraced his position have no more than this ? As Mr. Monroe was a Vir- ginian, it is the supposition of most people that he died and was buried within the Old Dominion, but this is an error. Mr. Monroe, in his last days, resided with Samuel Gouverneur, late postmaster of this city (New York) who married his daughter ; their residence was on the corner of Prince and Elm Streets. The venerable Dr. Francis tells us that he often met Mr. Monroe walking out when the weather was fine, and that on these occasions he was the object of the most affectionate attentions. He has often met him making purchases for the family, at the Centre Market, where all the stallmen knew and honored him. He was tall and spare, very modest in his bearing, dignified and gentlemanly. In his address, he was hesitating and diffident, and polite to the poorest and humblest as to any. He was one of the most indus- trious of men. a hard student, and his cares left their 178 ELIZA K. MONROE. marks on liis face. The wound that he received afc Trenton was felt for many years afterward — indeed, throughout all his life he occasionally suffered from it. His last illness was a long and tedious one. His attendant was his son-in-law's family physician, Dr. Berger. He expired at 10-^ o'clock on the morning of the 4th of July, 1831. His funeral was a very im]30sing one — the largest that at that time had ever been seen in New York. The military, under Gen, Jaqob Morton, Grand Marshal, filled Broadway from Prince to Broad Street, through which it passed to the cemetery. The day was fine, and the signs of mourning were generally adopted by our citizens. The vault in which his dust still lies, is on the east side of the cemetery, just to the right of the main walk as you look in from the entrance. The passer-by will note a small pole, on which a dove-house is perched. Within a yard of that pole is the sacred spot.* Many years afterward, by order of the Virginia Legislature, the remains of Ex-President Monroe were removed to Bichmond, and a monument befitting his glorious past deeds reared above him. The property. of Oak Hill is now owned by Mr. Fairfax, and with it one thousand acres of land. Three hundred acres are comprised in the McGowan estate. The second daughter of President Monroe, Mrs. Maria Gouverneur, died in 1850 at Oak Hill, where she was buried by the side of her mother. There are at hi?= time but few descendants of Mrs. Monroe ; two *Fruiii ail old newspaper printed more tlmn thirty years ago. A LIFE DEVOTED TO FAMILY. l79 grandsons and several great-grandcliildren, comprise the number now living. -X- * * * * * The tale is quickly told, the history soon written of such a life as was Mrs. Monroe's. Little of interest or variety is there connected with one whose identity was so completely merged in her husband's existence. She has passed on, leaving only here and there a link to form a chain of events, by which to weave the barest outlines. At this short remove from her day, we are discour- aged in every effort to obtain facts and incidents. She lived in the bosom of her small family, serenely happy in her retirement, and the memory of so quiet an exis- tence is swallowed up in the ever- varying changes of time. VI. LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. It was the happy fortune of Mrs. Adams to be the occupant of the " White House" when Lafayette visited the United States, and at the request of the President he spent the last weeks of his stay at the Executive Mansion, and from there on the 7th of September, 1825, bade an iiftecting farewell to the land of his adoption. As the last sentence of this farewell ad- dress was pronounced, Lafayette advanced and took President Adams in his arms, while tears poured down his venerable cheeks. Returning a few paces, he was overcome by his feelings, and again returned and fall- ing on the neck of Mr. Adams, exclaimed in broken accents, " God bless you." The sighs and tears of the many assembled, bore testimony to the affecting solem- nity of the scene. Having recovered his self-posses- sion, the General stretched out his hands, and was in a moment surrounded by the greetings of the whole as- sembly, who pressed upon him, each eager to seize, per- haps for the last time, tliat beloved hand which was opened so freely for our aid when aid was so precious, and which grasped with firirr and undeviating hold the Bteel which so bravely helped to achieve our deliver- ance. The expression which now bCvamed from the face of this exalted man was of the finest and most touching kind. The her.) was lost in the father and the friend. Dignity melted into subdued affection, and VISIT OF LAFAYETTE. 181 the friend of Washington seemed to linger with a mournful delight among the sons of his adopted country. A considerable period was then occupied in con* versing with various individuals, while refreshments were presented to the company. The moment of de- parture at length arrived ; and having once more pressed the hand of Mr. Adams, he entered the ba- rouche, accompanied by the Secretaries of State, of the Treasury, and of the Navy, and passed from the cajDital of the Union. The whole scene — the peals of artillery, the sounds of numerous military bands, the presence of the vast concourse of people, and the occasion that assembled them, produced emotions not easily described, but which every American heart can readily conceive. Mrs. Adams was the sixth in the succession of oc- cupants of the Executive Mansion, and with her closed the list of the ladies of the Kevolution. A new gen- eration had sprung up in the forty-nine years of Inde- pendence, and after her retirement, younger aspirants claimed the honors. Born in the city of London on the 12th of February, 1775, she received advantages superior to those enjoyed by most of the ladies of America. Her father, Mr. Johnson of Maryland, al- though living at the outbreak of the war, in England, was ever a patriotic American, and soon after hostili- ties commenced, removed with his family to Nantes, in France. ' ' There he received from the Federal Congress an appointment as Commissioner to examine the ac- counts of all the American functionaries then entrust- 182 LOUISA CATIIEIIINE ADAMS. ed witli the public money of the United States, in Eu- rope ; in the ex(!rcise of the duties of whicli he con* tinned until the peace of 1782. Our National Inde- pendence having then been recognized, he returned to London, where he continued to reside, and where he acted a-5 consular aLcent for the United States until hia final return in 1797, to his native soil."" It was fortunate lor Mrs. Adams that her husband was a strong, intellectual nature ; he both satisfied and sustained her, and rendered livv sojoui'n on earth con- tented and agreeable. In her father's house in Lon- don he first saw her, in 1794, and on the 2Gth of July, 1797, they were married at the church of All-Hallows. Soon afterward his fath(U' became President, and he was transferred to Berlin, where he repaired with his wife as a bride, to play her ])art in the higher circles of social and political life. It need scarcely be added that she proved perfectly competent to this ; and that during four years, which comprised the period of her stay at that court, notwithstanding almost continual ill-health, she succeeded in making friends and coucili' atiug a degree of good will, the recollection of which is, even at this distance of time, believed to be among the most agreeable of the associations with her varied life. In 1801, after the birth of her eldest child, she embarked with Mr. Adams on his return to the United States. Not to Maryland, the home of her childhood, but, a stranger to their habits and manners, she went among the New England people, and settled with her liusband in Boston. Here she determined to be satis* fied and live with a people whom in feeling she was not MINISTER TO RUSSIA. 183 unlike, but scarcely was she beginning to feel at liome wlien Mr. Adams was elected Senator, and she re- moved with him to Washington. A sister was already established there, and she met once more the members of her own family, where to her the winter months passed pleasantly away. Each summer she i-eturued to Boston, and thus alternating between there and Wiishingtou in winter, she passed the pleasant years of Jefferson's term. To many, the capital was an out of the way place, and not always pleasant to Congress- men's wives who left the gayeties of larger cities to be detained six or eight months ; but Mrs. Adams was peculiarly fortunate in her position, having around her near and dear relations from whom she had been sepa- rated many years. It became home to her, and to a Southerner, the climate was more congenial than the regions of her husband's birthplace. Mr. Adams, called by President Madison to embark for liussia as its iirst accredited minister, Mrs. Adams determined to go, even at the cost of leaving her two ekh'st children with their grandparents, and taking with her a third, not yet two years old. They sailed from Boston early in August, and after a long and somewhat hazardous passage arrived in St. Petersburg toward the close of October. What voyages those must have been, when nearly three months was consumed in getting from one coun- try to another ; when weary weeks of summer merged into winter ere the l^arrier between the old and the new world could be passed. Yet how often had members of that family braved dangers un- IS-i LOUISA CATHEKINE ADAMS. known to perform some dnty in tlie otlier world. Far back into the past, tlieir Puritan ancestors had found ? refuo-e on " wild 'New Eno-laud's shoi'e," and in that interval, the waters of the sea had wafted the children of the third and fourth generations over its crested waves, to ask for the heritage their forefathers claimed ' — liberty of conscience and actions, and freedom to wo]'sliip God. Years before, a brave, strong woman had, with streaming eyes, seen the form of her eldest boy start over the same track he was now treading, and she had gone back to her lonely home to suffer. Now, through its well-known and treacherous path, that son, grown to man's estate, with children of his own left behind, wends his tedious way, to bear to the halls of remotest nations the wishes and intentions of his young country. His wife, preferring an uncertain exile in a foreign country to a separation from her husband, suffered extremest anguish as she thought of her weeping chil- dren, for the first time separated from her. She felt the great distance and nncertain prospects of hearing fi-om them, not less keenly than she did the length of time which might elapse ere she again would tread the shores of her native land. And the bleak climate to which she was hastening in no wise tended to make her cheerful ; nor did the fact that Mr. Adams was the first Minister, allay her anxious sadness. Never, per- haps, in the history of the world, were such scenes being enacted as now. Europe was literally a battle- field, and Napoleon, the scourge of the continent, waa ruling, by the mighty force of his great skill, the de» NAPOLEON, THE " MAN OF DESTINY." 185 tinies of the old world. Shut up in St. Petersburg, Mrs. Adams gathered rumors of the progress of that " man of destiny," and listened for his knock even at the gates of the imperial capital. During the six years of her stay in Kussia, what wondrous things transpired ! What intense interest marked the era, we, of comparative quiet, can scarcely conceive. Death took from her an infant, born whilst there, and the twofold affliction of public and private trouble weighed upon her. " Mr. Adams lived there, poor, studious, ambitious, and secluded, on the narrow basis of the parchment of his commission, respected for learning and talents, but little given to the costly entertainments of an opulent and ostentatious court circle. But the extra- ordinary mission could afford and was entitled to more expensive circulation in the splendid palaces of a magni- ficent city, inhabited by the owners of thousands of serfs, and some of them of Ural Mountains containing mines of gold. Living frugally, withdrawn from all but indispensable parade, Mr. Adams laid the basis of a modest competency for his return to America, whose official acquisition American, republican parsi- mony induces, if not justifies." The war between England and America broke out in the mean time, and communication was almost entire- ly cut off. British ships cruised about our ports to capture peaceful vessels, and thundered their cannon at the capital of the country. While Mrs. Adams grew tired and weary of her cheerless abode in that far, northern climate, British troops were busy devasta^ 18G LOUISA CATHEKINE ADAMS. ting tlie country round about her old Lome, .and burn ing the mansion which Liter in life she was to occupy. Comj^letely cut off from all that made life dear, Mr. Adams hoped for some opportunity to be recalled, and restore his divided family to each other. Emperor Alexander unconsciously prepared the way for their return by proposing to be mediator for England and the United States. In consequence of this offer, the Commis- sioners repaired to St. Petersburg accompanied by Mr. Payne Todd, the step-son of President Madison, whose simple position in America was exaggerated by Euro- pean mistake to princely position. "Architecture, luxury, and comfort combined their attractions in palaces warmed by double windows and heated air- flues to the temperature of delightful summer weather, while the cold without was intense and destructive. Costumes of oriental richness, precious ornaments, fure of excessive price, and labor so low that large retinue and costly equipages are the least expensive outlays of noble households. The most delicious fruits from hot- houses, fjir-fetched game of the mildest flavor, tea by land carriage in caravans, transported five thousand miles from China, incomparably better and much dearer than the costly sea-born and sea-sweated beverage so much sought in America and England. The purest coffee of Mocha, wines of every wine-growing region are the common fare of the entertainments of Kussian nobles of countless riches and continual fetes, where much more numerous assemblies than elsewhere meet in the freedom of social enjoyments to counteract the risrors of climate, and from the terrible severities of AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE AT STAKE. 187 despotic government, seek that solace by wliicTi almost every moi'tal privation is somehow compensated. The younger members of the American mission found in such enjoyments compensation for its political failurr, while their seniors were treated with general and im perial attention." Their coming was a source of pleas- ure to Mrs. Adams, whose time had been spent so quietly, and it was her hope to return with them ; but while the commissioners enjoyed themselves with the sights of the Russian capital, great changes were tak- ing place on the Continent, and they were unaware how radical they wei-e. The return ship to the United States brought the news to Boston that Napoleon was banished to Elba, Louis the XVIII. propped on the throne of his ancestors by foreign armies, and England was at the zenith of her power and greatness. Never were the prospects of republican America so low since its independence, and the heai'ts of those patriots trembled when they thought of the future. The lius- sian mediation failed, but the commissioners afterward met at Ghent, where delays succeeded each other un- til on Christmas eve, Saturday, 24th December, 1814, the treaty was signed. It was the desire of Mr. and Mrs. Adams to have returned home this .winter, but the failure of the commissioners at St. Petersburg ne- cessitated the presence of Mr. Adnms at Ghent, and it was thought best she should remain in Russia. The state of Europe, rocking and unsettled, was con- sidered another argument in favor of her remaining, and consequently Mr. Adams set out without her. Alone in that place where she had lived five 188 LOUISA CATIIEIIINE ADAMS. years, where slie had buried one child, and where she hoped her husband would soon rejoin her, she passed the sixth winter, and wished only for the spiing to come to release hei'self and son from their ex- ile. How her heart must have yearned, in days short only because the darkness was so long, for her little ones over the wide Atlantic, and "with what zeal must she have prepared for that homeward-bound trip, so near in anticipation, yet in reality so far off. But her trial was in proportion to her strength, and if she did not go home, her children came to her afterward.* Spring at last came, on the almanac at least, if not in the gorgeous beauty it was wont to appear in her far-oif southern home, and she was advised to travel by land to rejoin. her husband at Paris, whither he had gone from Ghent. The diffi- culties and dangers of a land route through the late theatre of a furious war, had no influence to bear upon her determined idea to go, and braving solitary jour- neys, rogues, and dangers of every conceivable kind, set on with her child to travel to France. Hers must have been an indomitable spirit, else the lonely days of constant motion through villages and wild, uncul- tivated countries, where every inanimate thing bore traces of grim-visaged war, would have convinced her * Mrs. Adams had four children, three sons and a daughter. 1. George Wasliington Adams, born in Berlin, 12th April, 1801. 2. John Adams, born in Boston, 4th July, 1803. 3. Charles Francis Adams, born in Boston, August 18th, 1807. 4. Louisa Catharine Adams, born in St. Petersburg, August 12th, 1811, and died there the next year. FIVE years' exile. 189 of the risk she was running. With the passports of the Russian government, and the strong recommenda- tion of being the American ministers wife, she bade adieu to all apprehensions and risked all to only get nearer home and children. " In such circumstances, to be fastened in a snow-drift with night coming on, and to be forced to rouse the peasants of the surround- ing country to dig them out, which happened in Cour- land, was no slight matter. But it was of little signifi- cance compared to the complicated anxieties incident to the listening, at every stopping-place, to the tales of robbery and murder just committed on the pro- posed route, so perpetually repeated at that time to the traveller ; and to the warnings given by apparently friendly persons of the character of her own servants, corroborated by the loss of several articles of value, and, most of all, to the observation of the restless con- tention between jarring political passions under which tlie whole continent of Europe was heaving until it l)urst forth at the return of Napoleon from Elba. Hardly a day passed that did not require of Mrs. Adams some presence of mind to avoid becoming im- plicated in the consequences of party fury. For even the slight symbol of a polish cap on the head of her servant came near making food for popular quarrel." On her way she heard of Napoleon's return from Elba, heard that a little brig and three transports had borne back to France the nation's idol. All along the loute she witnessed the effect of the most marvellous act of Napoleon's life, "and yet," adds Abbott, "there was nothing in it rash or inconsiderate. He was driven to 190 LOUISA CATIIEKINE ADAMS. it by inexornble circumstances. He could no longer re» main in safety at Elba. The Allies recognized no sanctity in tlieir oaths. They liad already violated their solemn treaty, and were meditating a piratic expedition for the seizure of his person. He could not flee in dis- guise, to be hunted a fugitive over the face of the earth. There was no resource open before him but boldly to throw himself into the arms of the people of France, who still loved him with deathless constan- cy. His resolve was honorable and noble." As Mrs. Adams approached Paris through the hostile country of the Allies, Napoleon with his few hundred men had commenced his march of seven hundred miles through a kingdom containing thirty millions of inhabitants, to capture the strongest capital in Europe. " An army of neai'ly two hundred thousand men under Bourbon leaders, and stationed in impregnable fortresses by the way, and the combined despots of Europe, had two millions of bayonets still glistening in the hands of their soldiers, all of which were pledged to sustain the iniquitous sway of the Bourbon usui'pers. Romance in her wihlest di-eams never conceived of such an en- terprise before. Yet the adventure had been earefully considered, and profound wisdom guided every step. The millions of France loved Napoleon almost to adora- tion. He knew it ; and he knew that he deserved it. Napoleon was well aware that all the great elements of success were in his favor, and he had no misgivings." Mrs. Adams found, as she neared Paris, the dangers to which she was exposed, and dismissing her servants who were afraid to go farther, hired others and con- A JOURNEY UNDER DIEFIC ULTIES. 191 tlnued her approacli to her husband. But every cross road and tangled path was filled with soldiers wild with enthusiasm, rushing forward to join their great chief, and at one time she found herself surrounded by them. This was a very awkward position, as the troops seemed disposed to require from all around them the most unequivocal declaration of political faith. M.VS. Adams appealed to the commander of the de- tachment, and by his advice she was enabled to fall back, although not without the exercise of consider- able prudence, until the last of the men had passed, when she diverged into another road, and by making a considerable circuit, avoided any further meeting. Having proved, in this manner, that calmness and presence of mind render many things perfectly prac- ticable which imagination at first invests with insuper- able difficulties, she arrived in Paris safe and well, there to be greeted by her husband, on the evening of the 21st of March, 1815, immediately after that of the memorable arrival of Napoleon and the flight of the Bourbons. It was the privilege of Mrs. Adams to witness the adoration of the French for their Emperor, and to see with what enthusiastic delight they greeted his appear- ance, at a window or balcony of the Tuileries. With what pleasure she must have listened to the account of his entry ; crossing the bridge of Concorde, and dashing at full galop along the quay of the Tuile- ries, he entei-ed the court-yard of the palace by the arched gallery of the Louvre ; and of the frantic joy of the people as they bore him aloft in their arms, 192 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. amid deafening cheers to the entrance and up the great staircase into the saloon of reception, where a splendid ari'ay of the ladies of the imperial court, adorned witli a ])rofiision of violet bouquets half-con- cealed in the richest laces, received him with transports, and imprinted fervent kisses on his cheeks, his hands, and even his dress. Never was there such a scene witnessed in histoiy, and it was worth years of paiu to listen to the myriad voices shouting their Vive I'Empereur ! and to read in each happy face the heart- felt welcome extended to theii' exiled Emperor. Curses followed the retreating footsteps of the imbe- cile old man who was again begging the combined power to reinstate him on his throne, but Napoleon's throne was in the bosoms of the people, and every- where excitement prevailed as the Imperial troops gathered for — Waterloo. The advantages thus thrown in the way of an American woman were justly appreciated by Mrs. Adams, and she, free fi'om prejudice, studied the strange perversities of fortune. The events of the hundred days were enough to crowd the memory of a life-time, and fills us at this day as we ponder over them, with awe and amazement. All was activity and eagerness, all bustle and confusion. The armies were reviewing in the square of the Place Carousel, and the inspiriting notes of martial music added gi'andeur to the graudness of the time and place. But the arrival of her children in England, from whom she had been separated since the autumn of 1809^ MINISTER TO ST. JAMKS. 193 nearly six years, was of more interest to lier tlian tlie events happening around her. On the 25tli of May, 1815, Mr. Adams arrived in London with his family, and soon afterward learned that he was a])poiuted Minister to the court of St. James. . The impression made upon the most eminent circles during his resi- dence in London, has been retained u}) to the present time. " His simple habits, his plain appearance, his untiring industry, his richly stored mind, his unbend- ing integrity, his general intercourse and correspond- ence with foreign courts and diplomatists of the great- est distinction, all tended to elevate, in a high degree, the American character in the estimation of European nations." Mrs. Adams had advantages in London which scarcely any American woman has ever had since ; true, she had not "wealth to make a great display, but her home was one of pleasant comfort, and enjoying as she did the society of one of the most intelligent of men, and of the best informed circle in the great capital, she had signal opportunities for cultivation. Charles King, in his eulogy on John Quincy Adams, speaks thus : " It was while Mr, Adams was Minister of the United States in London, that it was my personal good fortune to be admitted to his intimacy and friendship. Being then in London on private business, and having some previous acquaintance with Mr. Adams, I fo md in his house an ever kind welcome, and in his inter- course and conversation unfailing attraction and im- provement. Under an exterior of, at times, almost re- pulsive coldness, dwelt a heart as warm, sympathies as 9 194 LOUISA CATIIEKINE ADAMS. quick, and affections as overflowing, as ever animated any bosom. Ilis tastes, too, were all refined. Litera- ture and art were familiar and dear to liim, and hence it was that his society was at once so agreeable and so improving. At his hospitable board, I have listened to disquisitions from his lips on poetry, especially the dramas of Shakespeare, music, painting, sculpture- — of rare excellence and untirino; interest. The extent of his knowledge, indeed, and its accuracy, in all branches, were not less remarkable than the complete command which he appeared to possess over all his varied stores of learning and information." Mr. Monroe succeeded Mr. Madison in the Prcsi- doiitial chair in 1817, and immediately apj)ointed Mr. Adams his Secretary of State. On receiving notice of his appointment to this responsible office, Mr. Adams with his family end^arked for the United States, on board the packet-ship " Washington " and landed in New York on the 6th of August, 1817. A few days after his arrival, a public dinner was given him in Tammany Hall, New York. The room was elegantly decorated. In the centre was a handsome circle of oak leaves, roses, and flags — the whole representing, with much effect, our happy union— and from the cen- tre of which, as from ker native woods, ai)peared our eagle, bearing in her beak this impressive scroll: " Ooluiubia, great Republic, thou nrt blest, While Empires droop, aud monarcbs sink to rest." Soon afterward, Mr. Adams and fVimily w(mt to MOTHER AND SON. 195 Boston to visit liis father's family, where he was the recipient of another public dinner : the last meeting with his mother on earth, it was one which he never forgot. It was gratifying to her sensitive nature to see him thus I'ising from one elevated position to another, and it soothed her aged heart beyond any power of expression. Many years of his life had been spent far away from her, and his absences were long and unbroken. She had always written regularly to him, and by example and precept endeavored to instil into his nature some portion of her own aspirations. When his talents had won for him this last position, she bowed her head and thanked God. Perhaps her spirit recognized his still higher promotion, and the natural conclusion, arrived at from former precedents, that-^by gradual ascent he would reach the place his father oc- cupied, occurred to her. When she was gathered to the graves of her ancestors, he was in Washington, busy with the manifold duties of his place, whither he had gone to reside permanently, in September, 181Y. The performance of the duties of the State De- partment necessarily required a residence at Washing- ton, and the manner in which Mr. Adams thought proper to devote himself to them, devolved upon his lady the e.ntire task of making his house an agreeable resort to the multitudes of visitors who crowd to the capital on errands of business, or curiosity, or pleasure, fi'om the various sections of the United States during the winter season. A large diplomatic corps from foreign countries, who feel themselves in more imme- diate relations witli the Secretary of State, and a dis- 196 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. tinguislied set of public men, not then divided by party lines in tbe manner whidi usually prevails, ren dered the society of that time, and Mrs. Adams' house where it most often concentrated, among the in^st asrreeable recorded in our annals. Much as it has been ridiculed since, the " era of good feelings" had some characteristics peculiar to itself. For an instant, sectional animosities relented, the tone of personal denunciation and angry crimination, too gen- erally prevailing in extremes, yielded; and even where the jealous rivalry for political honors still predom- inated in the hearts of men, the easy polish of general society removed from casual spectators any sense of its roughness, or inconvenience from its impetuosity. Washington may have presented more brilliant spec- tacles since, but the rancor of party spirit has ever mingled its baleful force too strongly not to be per- ceptible in the personal relations which have existed between the most distinguished of our political men. The following letter from Mrs. Adams to her fath- er-in-law will be read with interest. She corresponded regularly during her life in Washington, with him, un- til his death, in 1826. At no distant day we hope to see this interesting correspondence published : — To John Adams. " Washington, 16tli April, 1819. "Yes ! my dear sir, was my mind sufficiently strong or capacious to understand, or even to comprehend the THE THP:0KIES of MODERJSr PHILOSOPHY. 197 study of ancient and modern ptilosopliy, I am certain I should derive very great advantage from that study ; but you certainly forgot when you recommended it, that you were addi'essing the weaker sex, to whom sto- icism would be both unamiable and unnatural, and who would be very liable in avoiding Scylla, to strike upon Charybdis, or to speak without metaphor, to rush into skepticism. Have you perceived any thing like fatalism in my letters ? I am unconscious of it, though I fear there may sometimes be a little inclination to* ward it. The woman you selected for your wife, was so higlily gifted in mind, with powers so vast, and such quick and clear perception, altogether so superior to the general run of females, you have perhaps formed a too enlarged opinion of the capacities of our sex, and having never witnessed their frailties, are not aware of the dangers to which they are exposed, by acquire- ments above their strength. " The systems of the ancients have been quite out of my reach, excepting the Dialogues of Plato, which Mr A. recommended to me last year, and which I read at- tentively. I cannot say that I am entirely unacquaint- ed with their different theories, but that acquaintance has been too superficial to make them well understood, and I have been too much inclined to view them, as difficult of practice, and not tending much to the real benefit of mankind. With the modern philosophers I have become more intimate, if I may make use of such a word, speaking of works which I have read, but which I could not understand or dia^est. Locke has puzzled me, Bei'kley amused me, Reid astonished 198 LOUISA OATIIERINE ADAMS. nie, Hume disgusted me, and Tucker either diverted me or set me to sleep. Tiiis is a very liuiited sort of reading, and you will laugli at my catalogue of names^ wliicli have at best, I believe, but little title to the rank of philosophers, or at least must come in at the fag end. I have dipped into others and thrown them aside, but I have never seen any thing that would satisfy my mind, or that would compare with the chaste and ex- quisitely simple doctrines of Christianity. " I fear you will find this letter more extravagant than any you have ever received from me, but I have made it a rule to follow where the current of my ideas cai'iied me, and to give them to you in a perfect un- dress. My reading has been too general, and too dif- fuse to be very beneficial. French authors have occu- pied my attention the largest portion of my life, but their venom was destroyed, by the events which were continually passing almost befoi-e my eyes, and which showed how wicked was the practice resulting from such theoi'ies. You, my dear sir, have ever possessed a nature too ardent, too full of benevolent feelings to all your race with a mind too noble, and a capacity too enlarged, to sink into the cold and thankless state of stoicism. Your heart is too full of all the generous and kindly affections for you ever to acquire such a cold and selfish doctrine. No, my dear sir, it was, it is impossible. Look at your past life, retrace all the eminent services you have rendered to your country, and to mankind, and if you, by unforeseen and uncon- trollable events, have been prevented from doing all you wished, all you desired, toward promoting their POPULAR GOVERNMENTS. 199 felicity, let their unequalled prosperity (in producing which, you had so lai-ge a share) soothe your latest hours, and cheer your heart with the conviction, that to you, in a great measure, they owe it ; and this sen- timent alone will be sufficient reward. I set out in life with the most elevated notions of honor and principle ; ere I had entered it fairly, my h(jpes wei-e blasted, and my ideas of mankind, that is, all the favourable ones almost, were suddenly chilled, and I was very near forming the horrid and erj'oneous opinion, that no such thing as virtue existed. This was a dreadful doctrine at the age of little moi'e than twenty, but it taught me to reflect and not to ' ]juild my house in the sand.' My life lias Ijeeu a life of changes, and I had eai-ly ac- customed myself to the idea of retirement. The na- ture of our institutions, the various turns of policy to which an elective government is ever liable, has long occupied my thoughts, and I trust I may find strength to sustain any of the changes whicli may be in store for me, with fortitude, dignity, and I trust clieerful- ness. To these clianges, I can never attach the idea of disgrace. Popular governments are peculiarly liable to factions, to cabals, to intrigue, to the juggling tricks of party, and the people may often be deceived for a time, by some fair speaking demagogue, but they will never be deceived long; and though tliey may, in a mo- ment of excitement, sanction an injustice toward an old and faithful servant, they appreciate his worth, and hand his name down with honor to posterity, even though that ' name may not be agreeable to the fash* ionables.' It is one which I take a pi'ide in bearing. 200 LOUISA CATHERINE ABAMS. and one that I liope and pray my children may never dishonor. " What you say concerning the Floridas is, I believe, universally allowed, and as to the effect upon the name, why, it is of little importance, provided the sub- stance is left, and the act undeniable. There is the lance, let the lance speak — I can safely swear as an in- dividual I never set my heart on what the world calls a great reward. lam too well assured that 'uneasy lies the head that wears a cro^vn,' and the station is too full of thorns to render it very desirable. I have no relish for being absolutely crucified for the sake of a short preeminence. You have, I suppose, seen the correspondence between Gen. Scott and old Hickory ? How do you like the epistle of the former ? What do you think of De Witt Clinton's reply to the charge in- sinuated against him ? We hear of nothing but com- plaints of the times, and our commercial world are in great distress. In Baltimore (that city where the South American Privateers are owned and fitted out by native citizens in the very face of the public, and committing depredations on the property of their fel- low-citizens) there are failui*es every day, and it is said the mischief will extend to all parts of the Union. In Vii'ginia, a man who broke out of the jail in this city, has offered himself as a candidate for Congress, telling the electors that he would take only six dollars a day, as he thinks eight too much ; because if he found his pay insufficient, he would pla}^, and by this means in- sure himself a living. That he had often played with their late membei', and with many of the most distin- NON-PARTISAN RECEPTIONS. 201 guislied members of Congress, wlio used to send for him to play with them. Such things are — " Adieu, my dear Sir." " During the eight years in which Mrs. Adams pre- sided in the house of the Secretary of State," writes her son, Hon. Charles Francis Adams, in 1839, "no exclu- sions were made, in her invitations, merely on account of any real or imagined political hostility*; nor, though keenly alive to the reputation of her husband, was any disposition manifested to do more than to amuse and enliven society. In this, the success was admitted to be complete, as all will remember who were then in the habit of frequenting her dwelling. But in propor- tion as the great contest for the Presidency, in which Mr. Adams was involved, approaclied, the violence of partisan warfare began to manifest its usual bad effects, and Mrs. Adams decided to adopt habits of greater seclusion. When at last the result had placed her in the President's mansion, her health began to fail her so much, that though she continued to preside upon occasions of public reception, she ceased to appear at any other times, and she began to seek the retirement which ever since her return to private she has preferred. Mr. Adams has been, it is true, and still continues, a representative, in Congress, from the state of Massachu- setts, and this renders necessary an annual migration from that State to Washino;ton and back ao-ain, as well as a winter residence within the sound of the gayeties of that place ; but while her age and health dispense her from the necessities of attending them, severe do- mestic afflictions have contributed to remove the dis- 202 LOUISA CATHERINJi ADAMS. position. Tlius tlie attractions of great European capitals, and tlie dissipation consequent upon liigii offi- cial station at homo, thougli continued through that part of her life when habits become most lixed, have done nothing to change the natural elegance of her manners, nor the simplicity of her tastes. In the so- ciety of a t'e.w friends and near relatives, and in the cultivation of tlie religious altections without display, she draws all the consolation that can in this world l)e afforded for her privations. To the world Mrs. Adams presents a tine example of the possibility of retiring from the circles of fashion, and the external fascin;ir tions of life, in time still to retain a taste for the more quiet though less showy attractions of the domestic ■fireside, A strong literaiy taste which has led her to read nuich, and a capacity for composition in prose and verse, have been I'esources for her leisure moments ; not with a view to that exhibition which renders such accomplishments too often fatal to the more delicate shades of feminine character, but for her own gratifica- tion and that of a few I'clations and friends. The late President Adams used to draw much amusement, in his latest years at Quincy, from the accurate delineation of Washington manners and character, which was regu- larly transmitted, for a considerable period, in letters from her pen. And if as time advances, she becomes gradually less able to devote her sense of sight to read- ing and writing, her practice of the more homely vir- tues of manual industry, so highly conunended in the final chapter of the book of Solomon, still anuises the vleclinini'- da\ s of her varied ciU'cer.'' THE INAUGURATION. 203 On tlie fourtli of March, ISi^f), .Tolm Qiiincy Ad anis was inaugurated as President of tlie United States, and took the executive chair, which liad been entei'cd twenty-eight years before by his venerated father. Tlie scene at the inauguration was splendid and imposing. At an early liour of the day, the ave- nues leading to the capitol presented an animated spectacle. Crowds of citizens on foot, in carriages, and on horseback, were hastening to the great centre of attraction. Strains of martial music and the move- ments of the various military corps heightened the excitement, At 12 o'clock, the military escort, consisting of general and staff olticers and several volunteer com- panies, received the President elect at his residence, together with President Monroe and several olQicers of government. The procession, led by the cavalry, and accompanied by an immense concourse of citizens, proceeded to the capitol, where it was received with militaiy honors by the U. S. Marine Corps, under Col. Henderson. Meanwhile the hall of the House of Representa- tives presented a brilliant spectacle. The galleries and the lobbies were crowded with spectators. The sofas between the columns, the bar, the promenade in the rear of the Speaker's chair, and the three outer rows of the members' seats were occupied by a splen- did array of beauty and ftxshion. On the left, the Diplomatic Corps, in the costume of their respective courts, occupied the place assigned them, immediately before the steps Avhich lead to the chair. The ollicers 204 LOUISA CATIIEMNE ADAMS. of tlie army and navy were scattered in gi'oupa tlirongliout the hall. In front of the clerk's table chairs were placed for the Judges of the Supreme. Court. At twenty minutes past 12 o'clock, the marshah, in blue scarfs, made their appearance in the hall, at the head of the august procession. First came the officers of both Houses of Congress. Then appeared the President elect, followed by the venerable ex- President Monroe, with his family. To these succeed- ed the Judges of the Supreme Court, in their robes of office, the members of the Senate, preceded by the Vice-President, with a number of the members of the House of Representatives. Mr. Adams, in a plain suit of black, made entirely of American manufactures, ascended to the speaker's chair and took his seat. The Chief Justice was placed in front of the clerk's table, having before him another table on the floor of the hall, on the opposite side of which sat the remaining judges, with their faces to- ward the chair. The doors having been closed, and silence proclaimed, Mr. Adams arose, and in a distinct and Arm tone of voice, read his inaugural address. The congratulations which then poured in from every side, occupied the hands, and could not but reach the heart, of President Adams. The meeting between him and his venerated predecessor had in it something peculiarly affecting. General Jackson was among the earliest of those who took the hand of the President ; and their looks and deportment toward each other were a rebuke to that littleness of party FATHER AND SON. 205 spirit wliicli can see no merit in a rival, and feel no joy in the honor of a competitor. Shortly after 1 o'clock, the procession commenced leaving the hall. The Pres- ident was escorted back as he came. On his arrival at his residence, he received the compliments and respects of a great number of ladies and gentlemen, who called on him to tender their congratulations. The proceed- ings of the day were closed by an " inaugural ball " in the evening. Among the guests present were the President and Vice-President, Ex-President Monroe, a number of foreign ministers, with many civil, mili- tary, and naval officers.* Mrs. Adams gave up the comforts of her home, and took possession of the White House soon after the inauguration. The spring and summer wore quietly awa}^, for even in the White House, sociability is con- fined to the winter season, and save the visits of friends, nothing occurred to vary the monotony of every- day life. Her children were a consolation to her in her in- firm condition, for her health failed her as soon as she moved in the President's house. In the following Sep- tember, she accompanied her husband on a visit to his aged father at Quiucy, but being taken very ill at Phila- delphia, the President was compelled to proceed with- out her. He did not remain long, and on the 14th of October set out again for Washington. It was the last time Mr. Adams ever saw his father ! " The aged pa- triarch had lived to see his country emancipated from foreign thraldom, its independence acknowledged, ita union consummated, its prosperity and perpetuity rest- ♦ National Intelligencer, 182.:. 20<) LOmSA CATHERINE ADAMS. 1112: on an immovable foundation, and liis son elevated to the highest office in its ^ift. It was enough ! Ilia work accomplished — the book of his eventful life writ ten and sealed for immortality — he Avas ready to de- part and be at peace. The 4tli of July, 182C, will long be memorable for one of the most remarkable coincidences that have ever taken place in the history of nations. It was the fiftieth anniversary, the jubi- lee of American Independence ! Preparations had been made throughout the Union to celebrate the day with unusual pomp and display. John Adams and Thomas Jefferson had both been invited to participate in the festivities of the occasion, at their several places of abode. But a higher summons awaited them : they were bidden to a 'jubilee' above, which shall have no end ! On that half-century Anniversary of American Independence, at nearly the same hour of tlie day, the spirits of Adams and Jefferson took their departure from earth I Amid the rejoicings of the people, the peals of artillery, the strains of music, the exultations of a great nation in the enjoyment of freedom, peace, and happiness, they were released from the toils of life, and allowed to enter on their rest." These two patriarchs had been corresponding regu- larly, and their letters had attracted the attention of Europe as well as America. Mr. Adams had written the last letter in which occurs the following expression : " Half an hour ago, I received, and this moment have heard read, for the third or fourth time, the best letter that was ever written by an octogenarian, dated June 1st" PURITY OF THE EIVAL PRESIDENTS. 207 The editor of the London Morning Chronicle pre* faces his notice of this correspondence with the follow ing remarks : — " What a contrast the following correspondence of the two rival Presidents of the greatest republic of the world, reflecting an old age dedicated to virtue, temperance, and philosophy, presents to the heart-sick- ening details occasionally disclosed to us, of the miser- able beings who fill the thrones of the continent. There is not, perhaps, one sovereign of the continent, who in any sense of the word can be said to honor our nature, while many make us almost ashamed of it. The curtain is seldom drawn aside without exhibiting to us beings worn out with vicious indulgence, diseased in mind, if not in body, the creatures of caprice and in- sensibility. On the other hand, since the foundation of the American Republic, the chair has never been filled by a man, for whose life (to say the least), any Araeri can need once to blush. It must, therefore, be some compensation to the Americans for the absence of pure monarchy, that when they look upward, their eyes are not always met by vice, and meanness, and often idiocy."" The administration of Mr. Adams was remarkable for the peace and prosperity of the country, and tliere was therefore no event in Mrs. Adams life of a stirring nature, "No crisis occurred in national affairs, no im- minent peril from without, or danger within, threat- ened the well-being of the country ! Quietness reigned throughout the world, and the nations were allowed once more to cultivate the arts of peace, to enlarge the 208 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. operations of commerce, and to fix tlieir attention on domestic interests, the only true fountain of national prosperity. During no Presidential term since the or- ganization of the Government, has more been done to consolidate the Union, and develop its resources, and aay the foundations of national strength and prosperity." Mr. Adams was certainly the most learned man who has yet occupied the Presidential chair. No one at all acquainted with his life, will deny this assertion. Profoundly versed in the lore of the ancients, he was yet more thoroughly acquainted with the history of modern governments, and was a deep thinker, as well as an eloquent sj^eaker. A southern clergyman visited him during his administration and was astonished to find he was intimately acquainted with all sects and ci-eeds, and had read every book he could mention. Finally he remembered one work of importance, and asked if he had read it. Mr. Adams had not, where- upon the minister, delighted with his success, told it everywhere and was afterward known as the man who had read one more book than John Quincy Adams. Mrs. Adams retired from the White House with heartfelt pleasure, and sought the quiet her delicate health demanded. The following interesting account of an interview with ex-P]'esident Adams, by a southern gentleman, in 1834, affords some conception of the home of Mrs. Adams at Quincy. '* Yesterday, accompanied by my friend T., I paid a visit to the venerable ex-President, at his residence in Quincy. A violent rain setting in as soon as we ar- AT HOME IN QUINCY. 209 ]'ived, gave us from five to nine o'clock to listen to the learnins: of this man of books. His residence is a plain, very plain one ; the room into which we were ushered (the drawing-room, I suppose), Avas furnished in true I'epublican style. It is probably of ancient construction, as I perceived two beams projecting from tlu^ low ceiling, in the manner of the beams in a ship's cabin. Prints commemorative of political events, and the old family portraits hung about the room ; com- mon straw matting covered the floor, and two candle- sticks, bearing sperm candles, ornamented the mantle- piece. The personal appearance of the ex-President himself, corresponds with the simplicity of his furni- ture. He resembles rather a substantial, well-fed farmer, than orie who has wielded the destinies of this mighty confederation, and been bred in the ceremony and etiquette of a European court. In fact, he ap- pears to possess none of that sternness of character which you would suppose to belong to one a large part of whose life has been spent in political warfare, or. at any rate, amidst scenes requiring a vast deal of nerve and inflexibility. Mrs. Adams is described in a word — a lady. She has all the warmth of heart and ease of manner that mark the character of the southern ladies, and from which it would be no easy matter to distinguish her. The ex-President was the chief talker. He spoke with infinite ease, drawing upon his vast re- ' sources with the certainty of one who has his lecture before him ready written. The whole of his con- vei'sation, which steadily he maintained for nearly 14 210 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. four hours, was a continued stream of light. Well contented was I to be a listener. His subjects were the architecture of the middle ages ; the stained glass of that period ; sculpture, embracing monuments par- ticularly. On this subject, his opinion of Mrs. Night- ingale's monument in Wesminster Abbey differs from all others that I have seen or heard. He places it above every other in the Abbey, and observed in re- lation to it, that the spectator " saw nothing else." Milton, Shakspeare, Shenstone, Pope, Byron, and Southey were in turn remarked upon. He gave Pope a wonderfully high character, and remarked that one of his chief beauties was the skill exhibited in ranging the cesural pause, quoting from various parts of his author to illustrate his remarks more fully. He said very little on the politics of the country. He spoke at considerable length of Sheridan and Burke, both of whom he had heard, and could describe with the most graphic effect. He also spoke of Junius ; and it is remai'kable that he should place him so far above the best of his cotemporaries. He spoke of him as a bad man ; but maintained, as a writer, that he had never been equalled. The conversation never flagged for a moment ; and on the whole I shall remember my visit to Quincy as amongst the most instructive and pleasant I ever passed." Mrs. Adams enjoyed the pleasures of her home but one year, when Mr. Adams was elected a Member of Congress, and from that time forward to the hour of his death he represented the Plymouth district with " unswerving fidelity and distinguished honor." Mr. DEATH IN THE CAPITOL. 211 A-clams took his seat in the House of Representatives in December, 1831, and from that time forward Ms family resided in Washington, in a house owned by them situated on I street. For fifteen years he was a Member of Congress, residing continually at Washing- ton, although making frequent visits to his old home. More than four-score years had left their im- press upon Mr. Adams' brow, and he was still in the midst of his usefulness. In November, 1846, he had a stroke of paralysis, from which he never recovered. On the morning of that day, while sojourning at the residence of his son, in Boston, preparing to depart for Washington, he was walking out with a friend to visit a new medical college, and was attacked by the way. After several weeks, he recovered sufficiently to return to his duties at the capital, but never afterward en- tirely recovered. On Monday, the 21st of February, 1848, at half-past one o'clock, whilst in his seat in the House, he was struck a second time with the same dis- ease. He was removed to the Speaker's apartment, borne on a sofa by several members, and plasters ap- plied, which seemed to relieve him. Mrs. Adams was sent for, and on his recovering consciousness, was glad- dened by her presence in answer to his inquiry for her. She was in extreme illness and suffering acute sorrow, but remained beside him, sustained by her niece and nephew. Mr. Adams lay in the Speaker's room in a state of ap- parent unconsciousness through the 22d and 23d, — Con- gress, in the mean time, assembling in respectful silence, and immediately adjourning from day to day. At seven o'clock on the evening of the 23d he died. 212 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. President Polk issued a Proclamation announcing his death, and orders were issued from all the Depart* ments directing that suitable honors should be paid the illustrious dead. The funeral took place in the capitol, at twelve o'clock, Saturday, 26th of February, after which the body was conveyed to the Congres- sional burying-ground to remain until the completion of the preparations for their removal to Quincy. The following letter of thanks from Mrs. Adams, addressed to the Speaker, was laid before the House of Representatives : — " Washington, Feb. 29tli, 1848. *' Sm : — ^The resolutions in honor of my dear deceased husband, passed by the illustrious assembly over which you preside, and of which he at the moment of his death was a member, have been duly communicated to me. " Penetrated with grief at this distressing event of my life, mourning the loss of one who has been at once my example and my support through the trials of half a century, permit me nevertheless to express through you my deepest gratitude for the signal manner in which the public regard has been voluntarily manifest- ed by your honorable body, and the consolation de- rived to me and mine from the reflection that the un- weared efforts of an old public servant have not even in this world proved without their reward in the gen- erous appreciation of them by his country. " With great respect, I remain. Sir, your obedient Beivant, " Louisa Catheuine Adams." VARIED ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 213 On the following week, the remains of the deceased ex-President were conveyed to Quiucy, acconipaiued by a committee of one from each State and Territory in the Union. After this sad event in Mrs. Adams life, she lived uninterruptedly at her home in Quincy, enjoying the so- ciety of her children and relations. From a distin- guished member of her family, I have received the fol- lowing letter, fi'om which, although marked ])rivate, I take the liberty of extracting a few items of parti- cular interest. " I should be very glad to be of service to you if I were possessed of the material which you seem to de- sire in connection with the life of my mother. But I fear they are not to be found among the papers left by her. She WTote much and read a great deal, both of French and English literature, and translated from the former for the amusement of her friends. She also wrote verses frequently in the same Avay. But all these accomplishments of hers, including a nice taste in music and a well cultivated voice, are matters of little moment in a publication, however much they may con- tribute to the refinement of the social circle at home. Although she lived to quite an advanced age, her health was always delicate and variable, so as to inter- rupt the even tenor of her life and disincline her to the efforts required for general society, especially duiing her twelve years spent at different courts in Euro])e." Mrs. Adams died the 14th of May, 1852, and w^as buried by the side of her husband, in the family bury- ing grounds at Quincy, Massachusetts. VII. RACHEL JACKSON". The cruel misrepresentations of political opponents had crushed the heart of Eachel Jackson, and ended her days before her husband took possession of the Home of the Presidents. She was denied the errati- iication of accompanying him to Washington, and of gracing the White House, but she was even in death the President's wife, and as such is ranked. In his heart she lived there, the object of the most death- less and exalted affection, the spiritual comforter and companion of liis lonely hours. The friends and visit- ors of the new President saw her not, nor was she mentioned by the throng ; but to him she was ever present in the form of memory and eternal, undying love. The day of party strife and bitterness toward Gen- eral Jackson has passed away forever, and the nobility and refined sensibility of his nature are at last appreci- ated. The slanders and falsehoods which embittered his earthly life, have been eclipsed by the sunlight of truth, and over the lapse of years comes ringing the prophetic assertion of the immutability of right. He is avenged. Once it was the fashion to revile him, and multitudes in this country who had no independent judgments of their own, took up the gossip of the day and pursued their congenial calling, even after death had taken him fi-om their sight forever. /-v^ ^#\j ^ 'Si]E"^"$\y PIOJSTEEE LIFE. 215 Down from tlie canvas beams his speaking eye upon us, and its meaning seems to say, justice to her is honor to me. With feelings an American only can appreciate, the task is undertaken, and whatever its defects may be, its merit is its ti'uthfulness. In 1779, Col. John Doneldson, a brave and wealthy old Virginia surveyor, started to the banks of the Cum- berland with a party of emigrants. He had been pre- ceded by Captain James Robertson and his companions, nine sturdy j)ioneers, who had engaged to build huts, plant corn, and make as comfortable a home as possible for the band that was to follow. This consisted of families, and among them the families of several of those adventurous pioneers. The country was full of Indians, the forests deep, wild, and unexplored, and the perils very great. In order to escape the toil and danger of travelling through the wilderness, Colonel Donelson accomplished the journey by water. It was a distance of more than two thousand miles, and never before had any man been bold enough to proje(;t such a voyage. They sailed down the Holston river to the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to its junction with the Ohio, up the Ohio til] .they reached the Cumberland, and up this stream to the French Salt Springs, on the spot where now stands the city of Nashville. Colonel Donelson kept an account of this remarkable and perilous voy- age, entitled, " Journal of a voyage, intended by God's permission, in the good boat Adventure, from Fort Patrick Henry on Holston river, to the French Salt Springs on Cumberland river, kept by John Donel 216 RACHEL JACKSOI^. son," and tlie thrilling incidents and remarkable per< sonal adventures are deeply interesting. They were four months on the journey, the suffer- ings and privations of which can scarcely he apprecia- ted by the more fortunate who now travel the same way amid quiet woods, green fields, and peaceful coun- try homes. To those adventurers, the dangerous points of the rivers were unk^iown, and many were the acci- dents that befell them. They started in the depths of winter and were obliged to encounter excessive cold and frosts. But worse than all, the Indians were ever on the watch to entrap them. The journal says, " we still perceived them, marching down the river in considerable bodies, keeping pace with us." The wild- est, most romantic, and lonely spot on this continent is the " Whirl," in the Tennessee river, where the river is compressed within less than half its usual width by the Cumberland mountain which juts in on both sides. Its beauty is only equalled by its danger. In passing through this place, a large canoe containing all the property of ojie of the emigrants, was overturned and the little cargo was lost. The family had gone into a larger boat for safety. " The company," says Col. Donelson, "pitying their distress, concluded to halt and assist in recovering the property. We had landed on the northern shore, at a level spot, and were going up to the place, when the Indians, to our astonishment, appeared immediately over us on the opposite cliffs, and commenced firing down upon us, which occasioned a precipitate retreat to the boats. We immediately moved off." FEONTIER LIFE. 217 One of this intrepid little band of emigrants, shar- ing in its hardships and dangers, was Rachel Don eh son, the daughter of Col. John Donelson. She was then a l)right-eyed, l)hick-haired, spriglitly, pretty ohikl of a])out twelve years. On the 24th of April, 1780, they reached the little settlement of log-cabins that Captain Kobertson and his band had made ready for them. But perils and privations were not past. The Indians were wily and untiring in laying their crafty ambushes, and many were the victims that fell within their deadly grasp, and were despatched by their murderous weapons. With all these troubles, however, the settlement grew in numbers and in strength ; such was the intrepidity and the perserving energy which inspired these heroic men and women. As Colonel Donelson was one of the most influential, he became one of the wealthiest of the settlers. He had owned extensive ii'on works in Pittsylvania Coun- ty, Virginia, which he had sold when he started to the West. Prior and subsequent to the revolution, he was a member of the House of Burgess, and had re- peatedly represented the counties of Campbell and Pitt- sylvania. Tho7nas Jefferson and Patrick Henry were his personal friends ; he held commissions under each of them to execute important trusts, such as the sur- vey of state lines, the negotiating of treaties with In- dians, or establishing the authority of the State over distant territory. His confidence in General Washing- ton "was implicit, and the earnestness with which he spoke his sentiments had a most happy and conserva- tive influence over the people of the West. The little 10 218 KACinOL JACK801S". colony soon began tosiifter from I lie insufficient supply of corn and of powder and lead, and as tLe family of Colonel Donelson numbered many children and ser- vants, he concluded to remove with them to Kentucky. He had in tliat State, moreover, land claims which he could more easily attend to and secure by being there. During his residence there, his daughter llachel was married to Lewis Kobards, a man of good family. She had grown up annd the trials and dangers of a frontier life, but the examples that she daily saw of noble for- titude, of calm bravery, and of heroic labor were worth many a tamer and weaker lesson of more civili;<;ed life. She grew up accomplished in the higher art of making home attractive and relatives happy. She was at the same time li\ely and gentle, gifted with patience and prudence, and ^^ inning in her simple and unaffected manners. Soon after his daughter's marriage, Colonel Donel- son returned to Tennessee with his tamil}'. In the fall of 1785, while surveying in the woods far from home, this brav.' and gallant gentleman was })ierced by bul- lets from an imseen foe, and dietl the same night. Judge John Overton, then a young lawyer, in the fall of 1787, went to Mercer County, Kentucky, and be- came a boarder in the family of Mrs. Kobards, where Lewis Ivobards and his wife were living. Judge Overton was not long in discovering that they lived very unliai)[)ily, because Captain llobards Avas jealous of a gentleman named Short. His disposition was ex- tremely luifortunate, and ke}>t the whole family iu uneasiness and distress. This unpleasant state of AN UNHAPPY MAKRIA pe-ka." LETTER TO A FRIEND. 231 to a fi'ieiid at Nashville : " The General, I think, if? the most anxious man to get home I ever saw. He calls it a wild-c^oose chase, his coinini*; here. He tells me to say to you and Captain Kingsley, that in the multiplicity of business, if he had or could have seen any advantages for your better prospects, he would have written Captain Kingsley long since. You are in the best country in America. Oh, how has this place been overrated. We have had a great many deaths ; still I know it is a healthy climate. Amongst many disadvantages, it has few advantages.' I pity Mr. J., he will have so much fixtigue. Not one minis- ter of the gospel has come to this place yet ; no, not one ; but we have a prayer meeting every Sabbath. The house is crowded so that there is not room for them. Sincere prayers are constantly sent up to the Hearer of prayer foi* a faithful minister. Oli, what a revivinoj-, refreshins: scene it would be to the Christians, though few in number. The non-professors desire it. Blessed be God, he has a few even here that are bold in declaring their faith in Christ. You named, my dear friend, my going to the theatre. I went once, and then with much reluctance. I felt so little interest in it, however, I shall not take up much time in apolo- gizing. My situation is a peculiar one at this time. I trust in the Lord my dear child, Andrew, reached home in safety. I think you all must feel a great deal for me, knowing how my very heart recoiled at the idea of what I had to encounter. Many have l)een disappointed. I have not. I saw it as plain as I now do when it is passing. Oh Lord, forgive, if thy will, 232 KACIIEL JACKSON. all those my enemies that had an agency in the matter Many wander about like lost sheep ; all have been dis- appointed in offices. Cr.ige has a constable's place of no value. The President made all the appointments and sent them from the City of Washington." General Jackson, in a letter to Captain John Don- elson, Sr., speaks thus of his wife : " I hope we will be able to leave here by the 1st of October for home. Mrs. Jackson's health is not good, and I am determined to travel with her as early as my business and her health will permit, even if 1 should be compelled to come back to settle my busi- ness and turn over the government to my successor. I am determined to resign my office the moment Congress meets, and live near you the balance of my life. * * Before this reaches you, Colonel Butler and our little son will be with you, I hope. I trust you will extend your care over him until we ai-e where he lias gone. You may be sure your sister will not remain long be- hind. We all enjoy tolerable health at present, but I am wearied with, business and this hot weather." Mrs. Jackson sighed foi* her quiet home and her little churcli, during her stay in Florida. Pensacola was so different, and the people so entirel}' divided in all their tastes and pursuits from the devout Christian ma- tron, that she could not be satisfied. " Three Sabbaths," she says, "I spent in this house before the country was in possession under American government. The Sab- bath profanely kept, a great deal of noise and swear- ing in the streets; shops kept open, trade going on 1 think more than on any other day. They were so bois- LIFE IN FLOlilDA. 233 terous on that day I sent Major Stanton to say to tbera tliat the approaching Sunday would be differently kept. And must I say, tlie worst people liere are the outcast Americans and negroes ! Yesterday I had the happiness of witnessing, the truth of what I had said. Great order was observed; the doors kept sliut ; the gambling houses demolished ; fid- dling and dancing not heard any more on the Lord's day ; cursing not to be heard. Pensacola is a perfect plain : the laud nearly as white as flour, yet productive of fine peaches, oranges in abundance, grapes, figs, pomegranates, &c. Fine flowers grow spontaneously, for they have neglected the gardens expecting a change of government. The town is immediately on the l)ay. The most beautiful water prospect I ever saw ; and from 10 o'clock in the morning until 10 at niglit we have the finest sea-breeze. There is something in it so exhilarating, so pure, so wholesome, it enlivens the whole system. All the houses look in ruins, old as time. Many squares of the town appear grown over with the thickest shrubs, weeping-willows, and the Pride of China : all look neg- lected. The inhal.dtants all speak Spanish and French. Some speak four or five languages. Such a mixed mul- 'titude you nor any of us ever had an idea of. There are fewer white people far than any other, mixed with all nations under the canopy of heaven, almost in na- ture''s darkness." On the 3d of November, General and Mrs. Jack- son arrived at the Hermitage, delighted to be again at that home within whose doors the angels. Peace and 234 EACHEL JACKSON. Happiness awaited tlieir return, and sat with folded wings. General Jackson set out for Washington, accompa- nied by his wife, in 1824, going all the way in their own coach and four; and being twenty-eight days on the journey. In a letter to a friend in Nashville, she says, " We are boarding in the same house with the nation's guest. General Lafayette. When we first came to this house, General Jackson said he would go and pay the Marquis the first visit. Both having the same desire, and at the same time, they met on the entry of the stairs. It was truly interesting. At Charleston, General Jackson saw him on the field of battle; the one a boy of twelve, the Marquis, twenty- three." A great many persons paid their respects to Mrs. Jackson. She says, " there are not less than from fifty to a hundred persons calling in one day." While wondering at " the extravagance of the people in dressing and running to parties," she speaks with en- thusiasm of the churches and the able ministers. Soon after their return home, Mrs. Jackson''s health began to decline, and in the succeeding years of Gen- eral Jackson's campaign for the presidency, it contin- ued delicate. She went with the General to New Or- leans, in the beginning of the year 1828, and witnessed his splendid reception there. " She was waited on by Mrs. Marigny and other ladies, the moment she landed from the Pocahontas, and conducted to Mr. Marigny's house, where refreshments had been prepared, and where she received the salutations of a large and bril- liant circle. The festivities continued four days, at the FESTIVITIES AT NEW ORLEAlSrS. 235 end of which, the General and Mrs. Jackson and their friends reembarked on board the . Pocahontas and re- turned homeward." Mrs. Jackson's health continued to fail, and no ex« cursions or remedies were found availing. She had suffered from an affection of the heart; a disease which," increased and heightened l)y every undue excitement, was, in her case, exposed to the most alarming ex- tremes and continually liable to aggravation. The painful paragraphs in regard to her character with which the papers of the country abounded, wounded and grieved her sorely. The circumstances of her marriage, so easily misconstrued and so lamentably mis- understood by many whom distance and meagre infor- mation had kept in ignorance, were used by the poli- tical enemies of General Jackson as lawful weapons wherewith they might assail his fair fame and obstruct his rapid progress to the highest place in the land. Considered in all its bearings, there is not in the whole world a position more honorable, more important, or more responsible, than that of the President of the United States. Well were it needful to choose with, circumspection the Chief Magistrate of a country so vast, of a people so intelligent and brave, and possess- ing the elements of such greatness and glory ; who holds in his grasp such a multitude of destinies ; and ^ ho is able, by his decisions, to continue the sunshine of prosperity, or to bring the bitter blasts of adver- sity and discord. Hence the ardor and even the des- ])eration of the struggles for victory in each presiden- tial campaign. The same enthusiasm which actuated 236 IIACHEL JACKSON. the friends of General Jackson, actuated also his ene* inies ; and nothing could exceed the earnestness and rancor with wliich tliey attacked him. Not content with reviling liim, they must needs drag before the public the long-forgotten circumstances of his mar- riage, and wrest them to suit their unworthy purposes. The kind heart of Mrs. Jackson, though wrung with mortification and grief, prompted no utterance of im- patience. She said very little, but was often found in tears. Meanwhile, her health continued to decline. It was too hard to bear that he to whom she had de- voted the aifections and energies of her long life, should be taunted, for her sake ; that he should, for her sake, be considered unworthy of the trust of that na- tion for whose defence and honor he had undei'goue unnumbered fatigues and conflicts and perils. This si- lent suifering told upon her spirits, but anxiety to know the event sustained her. When the news arrived of General Jackson's elec- tion to the presidency, it was received with rejoicings and hilarity in Nashville as everywhere else, but with calmness by him and her who were so highly honored. Her gratification must have been too deep and heart- felt to be expressed with noise and mirth. Despite the calumnies which their enemies had heaped upon her and the General, the nation had bestowed upon him its highest gift ; and had confided, for a time, the keeping of its honor and well-being into his hands. The sorrows through which she had passed, those clouds that had hung over her thorny way, had been dispersed by the favorhig wind of truth, and the bright CALUMNIES THAT BROKE IIER HEART. 287 rays of peace shone upon her heart. But she was not dazzled by the new prospects opening before her The splendors and gayeties of a life in the White House could offer her no attractions. Her domestic and sim- ple tastes found more pleasure in her own home and family-circle at the beloved Hermitage. "For Mr. Jackson's sake," said she, " I am glad ; for my own part, I never wished it." She seemed to regret the necessity of a residence in Washington, and remarked to a friend with an expression of the utmost sincerity, " I assure you that I would rather l)e a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to live in that Palace in Washington." Mrs. Jackson always purchased all the clothing and liousehold articles, both for her own and the servants' use. Desiring to arrange every thing comfortable dur- ing: tlie winter, for she knew that General Jackson would have many friends at the Hermitage, she made frequent visits to Nashville, and on one occasion heard the thoughtless remarks of persons who probably for- got a moment aftcirward the words which broke the heart of their victim. It was her custom usually to go to one of her most intimate friends on reaching the city, and have the horses and carriage put in the sta- ble, and then go out shopping ; but on this occasion, she went early in her cumbrous coach, and as she had many places to visit, determined to send the diiver to a livery stable and meet it in the afternoon at "he Nashville Inn, then the principal hotel in the city. Weary and exhausted after a tedious day's sli^p- ])ing, she went at the appointed hour to the parlor of the hotel, and while waiting there, she heard her name 238 JRACHEL JACKSON". called in the adjoining room. It was impossible for lier not to bear, and there she sat, pale and excited, listening to a repetition of calumnies which political strife had magnified and promulgated. The bare truthful outlines of her early unfortunate marriage were given, but so interwoven with false misrepresen- tations, that she could hardly believe herself the sub- ject of remark. All she did hear was never known, but on her death-bed she told the circumstance to her husband, and then he understood the cause of her vio- lent attack. He had tried to keep every paragraph and abusive line out of her sight, and hoped that now, after the election was decided, this unhappy subject of " her marriage before a divorce was granted," would be dropped forever. She had acted as she thought was the best, and indeed, in every act of her life she discovered the fine sense she displayed in her conduct towards her first husband. But the malicious envy of people who could not bear her elevation, caught at every straw to revile her pure and blameless life. Had she lived unhappily with General Jackson, there might have been some excuse for considering her a weak woman ; l:)ut her long, happy and beautiful existence as his wife, was a convincing proof of her affectionate nature, and religious, high-minded soul. The fatal error of her youth, in marrying a man her intellectual and moral inferior, was more than atoned for in the miserable years she spent as his unappreciated wife. She was sensitive and refined, and her nature revolted at his coarseness. She had acted rashly in mariying him, but she was loth to part with him. Was she MAllEIAGE AND DIVOECE. 239 to blame that she did not know his character thor- oughly before her marriage? The sigh that heaves from the hearts of thousands of women as they recall a similar experience attests her innocence. Was she to blame for iDarrying again, when she aud every one who knew her believed her free ? He had. never pi'o- vided a home for her, she had always been compelled to live either wdth her mother or his, thereby sealing her doom, for no wife, however kind her husband may be, can be as happy in the home of her parents as she could in one of her own, be it ever so lowly. Captain Robards never tried to make her comfortable or con- tented, but augmented the sorrows of her young heart by a course of conduct revolting in even the most de- graded of men, and inexcusable in him, since he was of a respectable family, and supposed to be somewhat cultivated. But her offence was the acceptance of a protector and friend, who would shield her from poverty and unhappiness, and add to her life, what she had never known, a husband and a home. The bonds of a civil marriage had been dissolved, not by her efforts, but by her ungenerous, narrow-minded husband, and she had become the wife of a man eminently suited to her. With all the bitter experience of her short married life, she trustingly confided her happiness into the keeping of one who never betrayed it, and who made her existence a continued source of joy. In the high- er courts, in her conscience, but one marriage tie was recognized, and but one possessed the entire affection of her young and chastened heart. 240 KACIIEL JACKSON". It Lad l>een arranged that a grand dinner and ball should be given on tlie 23d of December, to General and Mrs. Jackson, that day being tlie anni- versary of tlie niglit-l.)attle belov/ New Orleans ; a day I'endered celebrated in the annals of his . country by his own heroic achievements. A week previous to this intended festival, and a few days after her visit to Nashville, Mrs. Jackson was seized with a spasmodic affection of the muscles of the chest and left shoulder, attended with an irregular action of the heart, and great anxiety of countenance. The suspense and uneasiness occasioned by the late political strife being at an end, and the uncertainty of the event no longer torturing her, she could bear up no farther. One of the physicians in attendance upon her, gives the following minute and interesting ac- count : " Being hastily sent for, I lost no time in rendering her all the assistance in my 2:)ower. Finding she had been bled before my arrival, without any manifest abatement of the symptoms, I repeated the operation, which was again had recourse to in the evening, on the arrival of Dr. Hogg, an eminent physician of Nashville, who had been sent for simultaneously with myself. These successive bleedings, together with other treatment, produced great relief, and an entire subsidence of all the alarming symptoms. The three iollowing days she continued to improve; she was cheerful, and could sit in her chair and converse with her friends. On Monday night, however, she sat up too long, caught cold, and had slight symptoms of DEATH AT TILE HERMITAGE. 241 pleurisy. These soon yielded to the i')roper remedies a profuse j^erspiration ensued, whicli it was thought prop(3r to encourage with mild, diluent drinks ; every thing promised a favorable issue. In this situation, after Dr. Hogg and myself had retired to an adjoining room, our patient unfortunately got up twice and sat by tlie fire. The perspiration became suddeidy checked. She cried out, ' I am fainting,' was j)laced in bed, and in a moment afterwards she was a lifeless corpse ! " All our efforts for her restoration were vain and fruitless. No blood could be obtained, either from the arm or the temporal artery. Sensibility had ceased, life had departed ; and her meek and c[uiet spirit sought that rest with her God and her Redeemer, which a cruel world refused to grant. " From a careful review of the case, there seems to be no doubt but that there was a sudden reflux of the blood from the surface and the extremities, u23on the heart and other organs, producing an engorgement and consequent spasm of that important viscus. That her death is to be attributed to this cause, rather than to an effusion of tlie braii], seems to be inferalde from the fact of the total and instantaneous cessation of the functioDs of the heart. Not a pulsation could be per- ceived ; her lungs labored a minute or two, and then ceased. " How shall I describe the agony — the heart-rending agony — of the venerable jiartner of her bosom ? He liad, in compliance with our earnest entreaties, seconded by those of his wife, left her chamber, which he could seldom be persuaded to do, and had lain down in an 11 242 RACHEL JACKSON. adjoining room, to seek repose for his harassed mind and l)ody. A few minutes only had elapsed, when we were hastily summoned to her chamber; and the Gen- eral, in a moment, followed ns. But he was only in time to witness the last convulsive effort of expiring nature. Then it was that all the feelings of the de- voted husband burst forth. His breast heaved, and his soul seemed to struggle with a load too oppressive for frail humanity. Nor was he the only mourner on this melancholy occasion. A numerous train of do- mestics crowded around the bed of their beloved mis- tress, and filled the room with their piercing cries. They could not bring their minds to a belief of the painful reality that their mistress and friend, for such indeed she was, lay before them a lifeless corj^se. ' Oh ! is there no hope ? ' was their agonizing question ; and vainly would they flatter themselves with the be- lief, that perhaps ' she was only fainting.' " The distressing event spread with the rapidity of the wind ; and neighbors and relatives thronged the house from midnight until late the following morning. Soon the painful tidings reached Nasliville, twelve miles distant, and a fresh concourse of fiiends pressed forward to show their respect for the dead and to mourn with the livinfj-/' Eai'ly on the morning of the 23d December, while active preparations for the expected banquet were go- ing on, and many bright eyes and gay hearts were al- ready, in anticipation, beginning the pleasures of the day, the afflicting news reached the city, of the Pi'esi- ilent's unlooked-for and teiTible bereavement. This FESTIVITIES GIVE PLACE TO MOURNING. 243 sad paragrapli appeai'ed in the papers and cast a gloom ovei- the breakfast-tables where so many had assem- bled in joy. " In the midst of preparations for festi- vity and mirth, the knell of death is heard, and on the very day which it was arranged and expected that our town should be a scene of general rejoicing, we are suddenly checked in our career, and are called on to array ourselves in garments of solemnity and woe. Mrs. Rachel Jackson, wife of General Andrew Jackson, President elect of the United States, died last night, at the Hermitage, in this vicinity. The intelligence of this awful and unlooked-for event has created a shock in our community almost unparalleled. It was known, a few days since, that Mrs. Jackson was vio- lently attacked by disease ; which, however, was sup- posed to have been checked, so as to afford a prospect of immediate restoration to health. This day, b(nng the anniversary of an interesting and important event in the last war, was appropriately selected to testify the respect and affection of his fellow-citizens and neigh- bors to the man who was so soon to leave his sweet domestic I'etirement, to assume the responsibilities and discharge the important duties of Chief Magistrate of the nation. The preparations were already made ; the table was well-nigh spi'ead, at which all was expected to be hilarity and joy, and our citizens had sallied forth on the happy morning with spirits light and buoyant, and countenances glowing with animation and hope,- — when suddenly the scene is changed, congratulations are converted into expressions of condolence, tears are substituted for smiles, and sincere and general mourn- 244 EACHEL JACKSON. ing pervades a ooninmnity where, but a luoineiit be- fore, universal happiness and public rejoicing prevailed. But we have neither time nor room, at jHvsent, to in- dulge in further reileetions on this nielaiielu^ly oeeur- rence. Let us submit with resignation and fortitude to the decrees, however afflicting, of a just and merciful, though mysterious and inscrutable Providence." The prepai-ations making for the festivity were im- mediately stopped, upon the arrival of the melancholy information ; and, in their stead, the committee of ar- rangements, to2:ether with the Mayor and Aldermen of the city, recommended to the citizens, as an evidence of tlieir deep regret and sympathy for the calamity which had befallen their honored fellow-citizen, to sus- pend for one day the ordinary business of life, which was cordially observed. In the course of the morning, a card ei^ht inches loui>: and six inches wide, with a mourning border one-third of an inch in width, was printed, containing the following announcement : "The committee appointed by the citizens of Nashville to superintend the reception of General Jackson on this day, with feelings of deep regret, an- nounce to the public that Mrs. Jackson departed this life last nio-ht, between the hours of ten and eleven o'clock. " Respect for the memory of the deceased, and a sincere condolence with him on whom this providential affliction has fallen, forbid the manifestations of public regard intended for the day. " In the furthei' consideration of the painful and un- expected occasion which has brought them together, SEPAKATION AT 'JJIJO JlOL'il OF TKlCMril. 245 the committee feel that it in due to the exemplary virtues and exalted character of the deceased, that some public token should be given of the high regard entertained towards her while living. Tljey have, thei'efoi-e, resolved, " That it be respectfully recommended to their fellow-citizens of Nashville, in evidence of this feeling, to refrain, on to-mon-ow, from the ordinary pursuits of life. " JosiAii NicHOL, Chainnan. "December 23." The city authorities also passed suita}>le resolutions, the last of wiiich reads as follows : " Resolved, That the inhabitants of Nashville are respectfully invited to abstain from their ordinary busi- ness on to-morrow, as a mark of respect for Mrs. Jackson, and that the church bells be tolled from one until two o'clock, being the hour of her funeral." These proceedings were signed by Felix Robertson, Mayor, and attested by E. Dibbrell, Recorder. About a fortnight before her death, she remarked to a friend, that although she had lived with Mr. Jack- son nearly forty years, there had never an unkind word passed between them, and the only subject on which they ever differed, or where there was the slightest opposition, was his acceptance of appointments ^vhen conferred upon him ; she being always unwilling for him to enter upon public life. Such w^as the woman whom (reneral Jackson was called upon to separate from, at a moment of all others the most trying. 240 EACHEL JACKSON. Altlioiigli the weather was unfavorable, her friends assembled from every point, to pay the last tribute of respect to one who could befriend tliem no more. Every vehicle in Nashville, and there were more at that day than now, in proportion to the population, was put in requisition. The road to the Hermitage had not been macadamized, and it was, consequently, at that season of the year almost impassable ; yet au inmiense number of persons attended the funeral. When the hour of interment drew near, the Gen- eral, who had not left the beloved remains, was in- formed that it was time to perform the last sad rites. The scene that then ensued is beyond description. There was no heart that did not ache, no eye that did not weej). Many of the officers present, who had shared with the General his difficulties and dangers ; who had seen him in the most trying situations ; who had eyed him when his gallant soldiers were suffering for food to sustain life, and he unable to relieve them ; who had witnessed him on the battle-iield, when the wounded and the dying were brought before him, and every muscle seemed moved, and his very frame ago- nized with sorrow ; yet had seen no suffering however poignant or excessive, affect the General like this great affliction. When he bade his final adieu to the last kindi'ed link that bound him to earth, his Roman for- titude seemed for a time to be completely overcome. It was a soul-rendino* sio;ht to see an old veteran, whose head was whitened by the hardships he had endured for his country, bending^ over the lifeless form of an affectionate wife, whose death was hastened by A HALLOWED NAME. 247 tlie cruelty of those whose rights he had so nobly de* fended. By a muscular and almost superhuman effort, he endeavored to check the current of his grief; and waving his hand to tlie afflicted company, begged them to weep no more. " I know," said he, " it is unmanly, but these tears were due to her virtues. She shed laany for me." But one wisli pervaded the assembly, tliat the individuals who had Jiastened this scene by their relentless attacks on an unoffending woman, could be brought to witness the saddest spectacle that any present had ever beheld. But they were not there to witness the effects of their calumnies. She was dead, and tbey were avenged. Ever after that funeral, his opponents com- plained that his personal feelings were allowed to gov- ern his public acts, and that to be suspected by him of havino; believed auj^ht of slander ai]:ainst his wife, was the unpardonable crime which he never forgave. Brave old Hero ! bow deathless was the feelino- which to the latest hour of his life displayed the same strength it had ever discovered ! Silent and grave he was on the subject, but forgetfulness or indifference did not occasion such a course of action, as too many found to their sorrow. A dangerous look in his flashing eye satisfied any one of the sacred ground, and few braved his anger by recalling an unpleasant recollection connected with her. The inhumanity of the world robbed him of his treasure, and darkened his life, but while he lived her name was a hallowed sound breathed in the darkened recesses of his bruised and lonely heart, which cheered him on to the portals of the tomb 248 EACHEL JACKSON. throiigli which she had passed to immortality. The dear remains were interred in a corner of tlie Hermi- tage garden; and thither the aifiicted Greneral was supported by General Coffee and Major Rutledge. Tlie following gentlemen were pall-bearers : — Governor Sam Houston, Col. Ephraim H. Foster, Col. George Wilson, Gen. Robert Armstrong, Col. Sam. B. Mar- shall, Col. Allen, Mr. Solomon Clark, and Major G. W. Campbell A resident of Nashville, writing to his brother in Philadelphia, said: "Such a scene I never wish to wit- ness again. I never pitied any person more in my life than General Jackson. I never before saw so much affliction amono- servants on the death of a mistress. Some seemed completely stupefied by the event ; others wrung their hands and shrieked aloud. The woman that had waited on Mrs. Jackson had to be carried off tlie ground. After the funeral, the General came up to me and shook my hand. Some of the gentlemen men- tioning my name, he again caught my hand, and squeezed it three times, but all he could utter was ' Philadelphia.' I shall never forget his look of grief." Through the kindness of Sarah Jackson, the widow of General Jackson's adopted son, I am in possession of a book compiled by Mr. Earl, under the direction of the General himself, entitled in gilt letters on the back, " Obituary Notices of Mrs. Jackson." It con- tains the funeral card before mentioned ; a great num- ber of eulogies taken from the papers of the day ; in- numerable paragraphs expressive of respect and sym- pathy ; and a syno[)sis of the funeral sermon, in manu' TRIBUTE TO HER MEMORY. 249 script. It was preached by the Reverend William Hume, of Nashville, and has never heretofore been published. It will be found interesting, not only as the funeral discourse of so eminent a lady, but as a specimen of a sermon delivered forty years ago, in a coimtry so undeveloped as Tennessee was in those days. '•' The righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance." Psalm cxii., 6th verse. " These words might be applied to that venerable matron, with much propriety, as she gave every rea- sonable evidence that she was among the righteous. Indeed, as her name is indissolubly connected with that of the President of the United States, it shall be held in remembrance while the page of history dis- plays the memorable actions of General Jackson. The words of the Psalmist, however, are applicable to her in a much nobler sense. " The death of this worthy lady is much deplored, not only by her distinguished husband and immediate relations, but by a large majority of the people of the United States of America. Her character was so well known to multitudes who visited the Hermitage, the abode of hospitality, that the following remarks will readily be acknowledged as true :~ "With respect to her religious principles, they were such as are held sound by all religious denomina- tions that are commonly called evangelical. Convinced of the depravity of human nature, as taught in the Holy Sciiptures, she relied ou the spirit of God alone, 250 RACHEL JACKSON. to ill iiiniuate, renovate and purify tliat nature that it miglit 1)6 qualified for the unspotted society of heaven. Believing with the inspired Paul, that by the works of the law, no flesh can be justified in the sight of God, her de[>endence for eternal life was placed on the merits and mediation of Jesus. Fully persuaded that the law is holy and the commandment holy, and that God will not acquit the sinner from condemnation, in a way that will conceal the dignity of His government, th ' purity of Hi> nature, the truth of His threatening or the glory of his unchangeable justice, she derived all her hope of acceptance with God from Him who ' bore our sins in his own body on the tree ; who suf- fered, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God.' While, however, her whole dependence for accept- ance with God was founded upon the atonement of the Son of God, through whom grace reigns unto eter- nal life, she knew that this doctrine did not tend to immorality. S' e was taught by Paid that holiness is always inseparably connected with this dependance on the merits of the Saviour, and that every motive to holiness arising from interest or gratitude or the pleas- ures of religion remains in full force; she therefore abounded in good works. Assured by the infallible testimony of her Lord and Master, that every branch of the true vine, as it derives its verdure, beauty, vigour, and sap from the vine is fruitful, she, a genuine branch was S(i too. In acts of piety, as adoration, thanksgiv- ii.i: and praise, she took delight. Her seat was seldom empty in the house of God. Though very often sur- IIEK CHARACTER. 251 rounded with company fi'om every State in the Union, neither she noi- her illustrious husband neglected the house of God on that account. The tears of genuine penitence were often shed by her in the temple of the Lord. She had a tender and a feeling heart, and some- times I have seen the tears bedewing her cheeks while she was speaking of the dangerous condition of those around her, who seemed to be entirely careless about a future state. Indeed, her devotional spirit was mani- fest in all her conduct. She meditated on the wonders of redeeming love with much delight, as the source of her present joy and future hope of glory. Indeed, her piety was acknowledged by all who knew her, as it manifested itself by the most unequivocal proofs ; a reverential aw^e, a su])reme love and profound venera- tion for the incomparable excellences of God, and a cordial gratitude to Him as the source of all her mer- cies. Her love to God was displayed by an unusual obedience to His commands and by an humble submis sion to His providence. " As a wife, connected with one who stood so high in the estimation of his fellows-citizens, she was, as a Christian, exposed to some peculiar temptations; for who can resist the fascinations of honor and of power? While she rejoiced in the honor of a nation of freemen spontaneously given to a husband so dear to her heart, yet no unbecoming elation of mind, no haughtiness, no overbearing conduct, could ever be seen, even by an inimical eye, in this amiable lady. She was adorned with the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, in an eminent degree. Esteem and affecliou were so mixed 252 KAOIIKL JACKSON-. in her bosom for her husband, that her respectful be* havior to him, in her house and among her comiectious and acquaintances, struck every beliolder as the soft iin])ulse of the sweetness of her disposition ; so tliat by lier kindness and affability, her husband was more hap])y in liis own family than in the midst of liis tri- umplis. In consequence of her amiable manners, his own house was the chief place of his enjoyment. •'The tears and lamentations of the servants are proofs of the most unequivocal kind of her excellence as the mistress of her household. Never did children seem to mourn more sincerely for a mother than the household servants lament for her. Tlie cordial re- gard of her servants may well be attributed to the g'entleness of her commands, the calmness of her tcm- j)er, and her tenderness in treating them in health .and in sickness. She was, indeed, a mother to her family. " The widow and the orphan will long lament the death of Mrs. Jackson. In the circle of the widows and orphans her benevolence accompanied with the most substantial acts of beneficence, shone with dis- tinguished sidendor. To her the words of Job may be properly applied: 'When the ear heard her, then it blessed her ; and when the eye saw her, it gave wit- ness to her, because she delivered the poor that cried, and the fatlierless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon her, and she caused the widow's heart to sing for joy. She put on righteousness, and it clothed her. Her judgment was a lobe and a diadem. She was ey».'S to the l)lind, and I'eet to the lame, and a mother MEEK AND LOWLY OF IIIOAUT. 253 to tlie poor."* Blest witli iiillueuce, slio liud ;i lunirt to feel and a hand to relieve tlie poor and the needy. She vkiwcnl tlie ])onnties of Providence not only to refresli herself and her family, hut as designed by her Benetactor to ilow in channels leadhig to the doors of those who were perishing of tliirst, that they, also, might quaff and be satisfied. "Some indeed, during the presidential struggle, with unfeeling hearts and unjustirial)le motives, exerted all their powers to throw her numerous virtues into the shade. It was, no doubt, the intention of the de- famers to arouse the indignation of her husband that he might perpetrate some act to prevent his elevation to that high station to which tlie American people re- solved that he should be raised. Under this cruel treatment Mrs. Jackson displayed the temper of a dis- ci^^le of Ilim who was meek and lowly of heart. Her meekness was conspicuous under all the injuries and provocations whicli were designed to provoke and ex- asperate her. Seldom, indeed, has the busy tongue of slander and detraction been more gratuitously and basely employed ; never was it put to silence with more helplessness and confusion than in the case of this amiable and pious lady. Influenced by the religion that she professed, she restrained all immoderate sallies of passion and harsh language on that trying occasion. She felt, indeed, the injustice of the warfare. Her compassionate heart was wrung with sorrow. Her tears flowed, but there was no malevolence in her bosom. She could have received no pleasure in giving pain to her detractors. Confiding in (Jod, that lie 254 KACIIEL JACKSON. would bring fortli lier rigliteousuess as the liglit, ana her salvation as a lamp that burneth, she was not disap- pointed. "She was permitted to live until the people of America, by their unbiassed suffrage, asserted their full conviction of her innocence in a manner calculated to shame and confound the most furious and unprincipled of her defamers. Yes, she lived to see every cloud of calumny blown away by the united breath of the Anici-ican people ; and found herself and her beloved husband in the enjoyment of an unclouded sky, fa- voured with the smiles and the esteem of a people un- influenced by detractors and qualified to form their own 0})inions. " While we cordially sympathize with the President of the United States, in the irreparable loss he has sus- tained in the death of his amiable lady, whom he deemed so worthy, as he said, of our tears ; we, from our long acquaintance with Mrs. Jackson, and our many opportunities of seeing her virtues displayed, cannot douV)t but that she now dwells in the mansions of glory in company with the ransomed of the Lord, sing- ing the praises of that Saviour whom she loved and served while she was a pilgrim on earth. In heaven, she drinks of the pure stream of the river of life, is- suing from the throne of God and of the Lamb." Various newspapers, and among them, the Mercwy of Pliiladeli)hia, clothed their columns in the badge of mourning ; which was " alike merited," says the Mer- Gury^ " by his services and fame and her virtues and piety." « LETTER OV CON noLKNi^O. 255 The ladies of Abingdon, Virij;iiii;i, met luul entered into resolutions to transmit to General Jackson a letter •' assuring him of tlie sinccn-e regard tliey bore the cliar- neter and person of his deec^ased hidy, and th(^ sorrow t]u!y feel at his aillictive bereavement," and also to wear mourning badges on th(ur dresses for thirty days. The following is a copy of the letter of condolence to CJeneral Jackson: — January 5tli, 1829. " r)EAR Sir: — We have heard, with the deepest sorrow, of your late aillictive bereavement in the death of your truly pious and amiable wife; and we have met to mingle our tears with yours for the irreparable loss you have sustained. To Aveep on such an occasion is not "blamable ; it is but a becoming tribute to de- parted worth ; yet, at the same time, we should bow with submission to the will of Ilim who 'gives and wlio takes away at his pleasure.' She has gone, we trust, to those mansions ' where the wicked cease from troub- ling and the weary are at rest,' where the voice of malice cannot reach her or the tongue of calumny dis- turb her. "On such an occasion, when religion is deprived of one of its brightest ornamiuits, and society of one of its most valuable members, we consider it our duty to oifer to her memory the tribute of esteem which is due to her worth ; and to give you, Sir, our sincerest condo- lence for this lat(^ aillictive dispensation. At the same time, wc olfer our fervent prayer to the Almighty dis- poser of liuuian events, that your administration of 250 RACHEL JACKSON. the high oiSce to wliich you have hitely been elected may l)e as wise and happy as your military career was brilliant and successful. " Sarah P. Preston." This beautiful effusion of the finest feeling does in- finite credit to the highly esteemed authoress. She was a daughter of General William Campbell, who so gloriously commanded the Virginia militia, and after- w ards a gallant corps in the battle of Guilford Court House, who in the language of the historian, were " the first engaged and the last to quit." The Board of Mayor and Aldermen of Knoxville, Tennessee, unanimously adopted a preamble and, reso- lutions in regard to the death of Mrs. Jackson. Joseph C. Strong was Mayor, and William Swan, Recorder. Colonel Jacobs offered the paper, and we annex the resolutions: — " Kesolved, That while we deeply regret the death of Mrs. Jackson, we cannot but express our gratitude to the Supreme Governor of the universe, that she was not taken from time to eternity until the people of the Union had given a clear and distinct manifestation of the high estimation in which they held the reputa- tion of herself and husband. "liesolved, That in consequence of the death of Mrs. Jackson, the Mayor be directed to request the Rev. Thomas II. Nelson to preach a sermon suitable to the occasion, in the First Presbyterian Church, at eleven o'clock a. m., on Thursday, the first day of Jan- uary next. TJIIBUTES OF EESPECT 257 "Kesolved, That the inlia])itaiits of Knoxville bo respectfully i-equested to attend church, and al)staii\ from their ordinary business on Thursday, the first day of January next, as a tribute of respect to the memory of tlie deceased. Dec. 29, 1828." In accordance with the request contained in the second i-esolution, the K(3verend Thomas H. Nelson preached a funeral serriion on Thursday the first day of January, 1829. The Common Council of the city of New York passed resolutions of condolence to mark their " defer- ence for her domestic virtues, her benevolence and her piety." An autiienticated copy of these resolutions was forwarded to General Jackson. A public gathering assembled at the Vine Street Meeting House, Cincinnati, Ohio ; at which a very large committee was appointed to draft resolutions, which they did, in honor of " a lady in whom by uni- versal consent, the practical charities of the heart were gracefully blended with the purest and most unaffect- ed piety." On the 8th of January, throughout the C(juntry, instead of the customary firing of cannon commemora- tive (jf the day, a solemn silence was maintained, as a ' token of respect for the deceased. At various public dinners on that day, Mrs. Jackson's death was alluded to in the most gentle and sympathetic terms. As an illustration of the tone and spirit of these allusions, we copy the following. At Boston, this toast was offered by S. Fessenden, Esq., " The memory of Mrs. Jackson, — sadness to our joy, but for the bright hope that the 17 258 RACHEL JACKSON. event wliicli liatli wrouglit for liiin whose praise we celebrate a cypress cliaplet, liatli introduced lier whose memory we revere and whose death we deplore, to a crown of unfading glory." In New Orleans the following toast was offered : '' The memory of Mrs. Jackson, — an example of piety, benevolence, and every Christian virtue. ' The only amaranthine flower on earth is virtue.' " Li Nashville, Capt. Parrish presented this, — " Tlie memory of Mrs. Jackson." In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, at the celebration of the members of the Legislature, the following toast was drank : — " The memory of Mrs. Jackson, — the amia- ble wife of the slandered hero. The grave now shrouds her mortal remains, but her virtues will shine in \m\- liant purity, when her unprincipled slanderers are lost to tlie memory of man." A touchino; reference to the sad event was made in the House of Representatives by the Hon. Pryor Lea, of the Tennessee Delegation. And so hundi'cds of pages of eulogies published in every section of the Repu])lic might be copied. Many pieces of poetry mourning the death of Mrs. Jackson appeared in the papers, one of which, from the Cincinnati Advertiser, is subjoined. MONODY On the Death of Mes. Jaokson. "As wintry blasts succeed the siiinmer's bloom, And summer suns give place to winter's gloom; As to mom's rudianoo o'er crciitioii spread, MONODY. 259 The night succeeds, wlion every ray is fled; Or as the heart, but ei'st with joy elate, To sorrow turns beneath t-onie strnke of fate; So a joy'd nation Fate has bid to turn Its smiles of joy to tears o'er Virtue's urn. Sacred the numbers breathed in Virtue's name, Dear still to goodness, if unknown to fame. Be thine the grateful task, iiumble muse, (Virtue's thy thciiio, and tliou c-.iust, ne'er refuse,) Be thine tlic task that !^oodnc=s to deplore, "Which Death, relentless, bids to be no more; To sing th' unspotted life, unknown to blame, But every virtue dear to woman's name ; The meek-eyed charity, tlie guileless heart, The long enduring undor sorrow's smart ; The ready friend to comfort in distress; The band as willing as the heart to bless; The every charm exalted virtue lends. Conferring blessings as its means extends ; The mind sincere, unknown to pious guile; Whifdi ne'er deceit, di.-honest, could defile, But still intent religion to obey, And as she taught, its precepts, led the way; To all its active impulses awake, And virtuous only for fair virtue's sake. *' Scarce was the contest o'er, the victory won, Mysterious Fate! But Inilf thy will was done. From that first hour a nation made its choice Of him in whose great name its sons rejoice, From the first hour the grateful news was hailed, Even from that hour her gentle spirit failed. While o'er the land loud peals of triumph rang, Iler milder nature felt the mortal \r.m<^, Which still protracted, nought availed to Bave Iler suifering nature from an honored grave. ''Eternal Providence! Wiiate'er thy ways, 'Tis still our duty to adore and ])raise. Lo, the bright virtues from her earliest time, Which souls ungenerous slandered into crime. 260 EACHEL JACKSON. Lo, her loved husbniKVs fume, by foes .assailed, Impotent still. And while each effort tailed, Behold them turn wi'li must dishonest arts, Against domestic Peace, their venomed darts. Nor sex, nor purity, nor honored age Oould save them from the shafts of blinded rage. Yet she but lived to triumph and to see Her fame proved pure as 'twas designed to be. When Nature, in her great and high behest, Formed, of lier daughters, her among the best. Yet shall her cherished memory long endure, To still assuage the grief it may not cure. As when the glorious sun retires to rest, He leaves a golden twilight in the west, Where the mild radiance of his thousand rays, Illumes the skies and gladdens every gaze; So the remembrance of her virtues dear Shall o'er the hearts of tho^e who loved her here, Shed the mild radiance of that tranquil joy. Which death, nor fate, nor ill can e'er destroy." Until a few days before his death, the General wore always around his neck and hidden in his bosom a miniature of Mrs. Jackson, on the back of which is a pretty little wreath made of his and her hair. The chain to which it is attached is curiously wrought of black beads intermingled with a ilower-work of bright gold ones, into which these words are skilfully intro- duced : " Presented to General Andrew Jackson, as a token of esteem, from Caledonia M. Gibson. May bless- ino-s crown thy hoary head." Every night he placed this miniature on a little table, by his bedside, leaning against his Bible, with the beloved face towards him, so that the kind, familiar smile should be his first greeting when he waked. His grand-daughter, now Mrs. Lawrence, bears the honored name of his wife, THE TOMB AT THE HEEMITAGE. 261 Rachel Jackson, and was an especial favorite of his. His eyes were often fixed upon her during his last ill- ness with peculiar interest and affection. One morn- ing within a few days of his death, when she came to bid him good-bye, before starting to the city to school, he threw the chain around her neck and asked her to wear, for his sake, the miniature he had loved and worn so long. In a corner of the garden at the Hermitage there is a simple elegant monument raised over the vault in which lie the remains of General Jackson and his wife. The steps run around the circular area, eighteen feet across. From this platform spring eight fluted columns of the Doric order, surmounted by a handsome entab- lature supporting the dome, which is crowned with a. funereal urn. On the interior, a plain cornice of vaulted ceiling, stuccoed in white, gives an air of purity and comeliness, well suited to a tomb. From the cen- tre of the platform rises a pyramid on a square base. On the floor, on each side of this pyramid, lie the tablets which contain the inscriptions. The one on the loft is the General's, which bears only his name and the record of his birth and death. The hand of an undying affection has covered the other with a long and tender testimony to her worth. It runs thus : ^' Here lie the remains of Mrs. Kachel Jackson, wife of President Jackson, who died the 2 2d Decem- ber, 1828, aged 61. Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind ; she delighted in relieving the wants of her fellow crea- tures, and cultivated that divine pleasure by the most 262 RACHEL JACKaOJSr. liberal and unpretending methodts ; to tlie poor she waa a benefactor, to the rich an example ; to the wretched a comforter, to the prosperous an ornament ; her piety went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she thanked her Creator for being permitted to do good. A being so gentle, and yet so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could but transport her to the bosom of hei* God." Here in the freshness and greenness of the garden they planted, surrounded with clambering vines and fragrant blooms, the General and his beloved wife sleep their last sweet sleep. Across a garden-path, lie the remains of Mr. Earl, the artist, " friend and com- panion of General Andrew Jackson." Beside him lies Andrew Jackson, the adopted son of the General ; and near are two of his infant sous, and a grown son, Samuel, who fell in battle. General Jackson survived his wife more than six- teen years, and, unto the end, his love for her burned as brightly as in the hey-day of his youth. Though iiged and suffering greatly, he was remarkably ener- getic and kept up his correspondence with his old and dear i'riends. The last letter that he ever wrote, only two days before his death, was addressed to the Hon. Mt. Polk, President of the United States, expressing eonfidenco in his judgment and ability to guard well and truly the interests of his country. VIII. EMILY DONELSOK Mrs. Emily DoNELSoisr, the accomplished mistress of the White House during General Jackson's presiden- tial term, was the youngest child of Captain John Donelson, a man of sterling integrity and irreproacha- ble character, perfect in all the relations of life, respect- ed as a citizen, honored as a Christian, and beloved as a friend and neio'hbor. She was born in Davidson County, Tennessee, and educated at the Old Academy, in Nashville. Of rare personal loveliness and superior intellect, no expense or care was spared to fit her for the high position she was destined to fill in society. Though her childhood was spent in what was then called the " backwoods," it was not passed in obscurity, for her close relationship with Mrs. Jackson, tlie pub- lic prominence of her near relations, Generals Smith, Coffee and Hays, and the great wealth and high stand- ing of her father, early made her familiar with camps and crowds, and developed that courtly grace and ease of manner for which she was afterward so preeminent. A host of suitoiN* contended for the T)eautiful maiden's hand, among whom were General Sam Houston, Col. Ephraim H. Foster, and Major Gustavus A. Henry ; they always spoke of her as the " lovely Emily," and delighted in expatiating on the charms of her mind and j)erson. At the early age of sixteen, she was married to her oousin. Major Andrew J. Donelson, the protege and confidential adviser of General Jackson. She was ever -('>-^ .KMILY DONKLSOiV. a toiul niul faillirul wil'o, sliarini;' tl»o joys jiiid Iriumplia of hvv liusliniul, r('li('\iiio' liis c*;irt\s and sorrows, uud lillini>' liis lionu' \vi(li \)v:ivo and fonitort, and his heart with lighl and liappiuoss. i^n (u'lU'ral Jackson's election to the presidency, lie appointed INTajor Donelson liis ])rivate Secretary, and invitcul ]\lrs. Donelson to olliciate as mistress of ceremonies at the l^xt^culive IMansion. To settle a delicate question of precedence between iMrs. Jackson, jr. and INtrs. Donelson, who were both inmates of the i'resident's House and nieces of General Jackson, lie said to JMi's. Jackson, " you, my dear, are mistress of the Hermitage, and Emily is hostess of the AVhite IIous(\'" Both were satislied with this deci- sion, and ever afterward ]\Irs. Donelson o('cn])ied the first position in the Presi(h'nt's Mansion. This was a position tliat (lie eK^^ance and reliiienieut of the fornuu' mistresses of the mansion had invest(>d with great rc^speet ; and INirs. Donelson filled it as the)- had done, ever mindful of her dignity as a lady, and true to her duty as a. wile and mothei'. in all that is lovely and uohK; in woman, she was the peer of her illustri- ous predecessoi'K ; and her tact and grace contributed nuich to render (jeneral Jackson's term such a brilliant epoch in American history. It Avas a day of fierce party spirit ; political animosity s]>ared neither sex nor conditi:)n, yet the voici^ of detraction was never raised against her honored name. Friend and foe alike paid honiau'e to her charms. Mrs. Donelson was of nunlium height, with dark auburn hair, dark l)roA\u eyes, fair com})le.\ion, lips GENKTiAj. Jackson's defeiience. 205 ftiid hroAv ex(]uisitely iiioiilded, slender symmetrical ligiire, :iiid liiiiids mid feet tiny as a child's, ller ])or- trait bears a striking resemblance to the pictures of Mary Queen of Scots. No stranger ever })as8es it without conunenting on its singular fascination. Young, fond of society and pleased with attention, she entered with zest into the festivities of AVashington, and participated in all its gayeties. Pier taste in dress was exquisite, and her toilette was the envy and ad- miration of fashionable circles. The dress she wor^^ at the first inauguration, an amber-colored satin, brocaded with bouquets of rose-buds and violets, and richly trimmed with white lace and pearls, was a present from the General, and was descri])ed in every paper of the Union. It is still preserved in the family, and even in this day of costly attire, would be a gala dress. Beloved as a daughter by Mrs. Jackson, and intimately associated with her for years, she was beside that hon- or(Hl and dear friend at the time of her death; and lu;r tend(!rness and sympathy did much to mitigate the poignancy of the General's bereavement. He alwa,ys called her " my daughter ; " and often when wearied with the cares of office, would seek relaxation amid her family circle. Arbiter in politics, he deferi'ed all mat- ters of etiquette to her ; and when she would a])peal to him to settle any knotty social point, he would re- ply, " you know best, my dear. Do as you 2)lease." Of lively imagination, she was quick at repartee, and had that gift possessed by so few talkers, of listening grace- fully. Thrown in contact with the brightest and most cultivated intellects of the day, she sustained hcj" ])art; 12 266 EMILY DONELSOiS'. and lier tavor was eagerly soiiglit by tlie learned and polished. A foreign minister once said to her, " Mad- am, you dance witli the grace of a Paiisian. 1 can hardly realize yon were educated in Tc^nnessee." " Count, you forget," was the s])irited reply, " that grace is a cosmopolite, and like a wild flower, is much oftener found in the ^voods than in the streets of a cityJ' During the Eaton controversy, tlie public was curi- ous to see what course she wonld take. Iler friends were also Mrs. Eaton's friends, it Avas her policy to please General Jackson, and General Jackson's heart was set on Mrs. Eaton's social recognition, yet Mrs. Donelst)n was a Avoman who, dearly as she loved pow- er, loved honor more. Of kind and teniler sensibili- ties, her heart and hand were ever ready to respond to the calls of the [)oor and sulfering, bnt she had no patience with the shameless and presnming, and could tolerate no association with a wc^man Avho could take such libiM'ties with her marriage vow. At the })ublic receptions and levees, she received Mrs. Eaton with her usual dignity and courtesy; but when the General asked her to visit that lady, and set the example of public I'ecognition of his favorite, she refused decidedly, saying, " Uncle, I will do anything on earth for yon, consistent with my dignity as a lady, but I cannot and Avill not visit any one of Mrs. Eaton's reputation." She carried her point, and honoi'ed be her name for the noble example she set her countrywomen. Mrs. Donelson's four children were all boin at the White House, and their earliest reminiscences are of THE FAMILY GEOUr. 207 the East Room, levees, state dinners, and processions. General Jackson made tlieir eliristenino-s occasions of great ceremony, lie was god-fatlier of two of them, Mr. ^"an Bnren of another, and General Polk of the yonngest. (leneral Jackson ^\as very fond of these little ones, and took a grandfather's interest in all their plays and games. The White House has probably never had a more charming tableau than that present- ed by the old hero, surrounded by the lovely ftimily group, of which he was the soul and idol. Of Mrs. Donelson's cliildren, only her t'N^^o daughters are now living. Her two sons ].)assed away in the spi'ing-thue of life. They were young men of great promise, supe- rior intellect, and high social standing. Andrew, the eldest, Avas captain of engineers in the United States army, and died of consumption in 1859. John was captain in the Confederate service, and fell in the battle of Chickamauga, fighting bravely in defence of the cause he had espoused. In the spring of 183G, Mrs. Donelson's health be- came so delicate that she concluded to leave Washing- ton, and go home to Tennessee; hoping, in the quiet and seclusion of her beautiful home (Tulip Grove), soon to rcixain her liealtli and sti'ength. But her symptoms grew more alarming, and it soon became evident that consumption had marked her for its vic- tim. The scene changes now from the gay festivities of Wasliino-ton to the loneliness and sufferinij: of tlio sick room. The hectic flush and wasting form marked the rapid progress of the insidious disease, and thoughts of death became familiar. Though so young 2GS EJIILY DONELSON. and gay, she bore lier surt'cring witli the patience and fortitude of an angel, and submitted witlunit a nmr. mur to the decree that tore her aAvay from husband, chihb'cn, and friends. Sliortly before her death, she made a pul)lic profession of rtibgion, and connected herself witli the Presbyterian cluuch. Every resource of medical skill and experience was tried to stay the course of her disease, but in vain ; and in December her s})irit passed from earth. Her death was as peace- ful and hopeful as her life had been loving and happy. Alwa>s a fond and proud mother, as the time drew near ibr a iinal separation from her children, she clung to them with a tenderness and devotion touching to behold. A few evenings before her death, she was sitting at an open window, admiring the beauty of a winter sunset, when a bird entered, and flying several times around the room, alighted on her chair. One of her little children, })laying by her side, made some exclamation and tried to catch it. " Don't disturb it, darling," said the dying mother, " maybe it comes to bid me })repare for my flight to another world. I leave you here, but the Heavenly Fatlier, \\'lio shelters and })rovides for this poor little bird this wintry day, will also Avatch over and take care of you all \\'hen I am gone. Don't forget mamma ; love her ahvays, and try to live so that we may all meet again in heaven." Ere the week closed, her chair was vacant ; eai'th had lost one of its noblest, purest spirits, but heaven had gained an angel. "J.ovoly, brii^lit, youtliful, chaste iis nioriiinjij dew, She >i)iiikkHl, was oxlmlod, and went to heavou." IX. SARAH YOEKE JACKSON. Tine wito of President Jackson's foster-son was the dangliter of Peter Yorke of Pliiladelpliin, whose grand- fatlier, Judg'e Yorke, held an n])]K)iiitnieiit under the ci'own of Great Pritain prior to the Ixevolution. She was educated in tliat city, and received all the acconi- plishnients a mind of superior order nnchu' similar for- tunate circumstances would be capable of appreciating. Left an oi'phan at an early age, her atlections were concentrated upon those nearest of kin to her, and well and nobly has she fulfilled all the requirements of sisterly love. A large circle of friends and rela tives rendered hei* young life happy by their sympathy and affection, and her youth is remembered as a scene of varied though ceaseless pleasures. Miss Yorke was married to Mr. Jackson soon after the inauguration of his adopted father, and made her entree at the Whiter House as a bride. Necessarily the object of remark and criticism, which has not gen- erally a tendency to promote ease of manner, she yet managed to win sincere admiration from all who came in contact with her. Seldom has any one in so conspicu- ous a position exhibited so much of the perfect self- possession which distinguishes the lady " to the manor born." She combined the opposite qualities of dignity and affability, and secured thereby a lasting influ- ence over those with whom she was associated. Pleud- 270 SARAH YORKE JACKSON. iiig a quick temper and liigli spirits, with mncli kindli* ness of heart she wjxs, as is often the ca^^e witli sudi natures, generous and forbearing toward loved ones, — • determined and unyielding where her rights were in- vaded. Her atfeetion for her father-in-law was intense, and he often testiiied his love for her. On one occasion, when receiving a deputation from the Keystone State, he remarked to them, " Gentle- men, I am very glad to see you, for I am much indebt- ed to Penns^dvania. She has given me a daughter who is a great comfort to her father." The tone and impressive manner convinced his hearers of the entire truth of his remark, while the look of atlectionate pride bestowed upon her filled her lieart with happiness. At the White House, she shared the honors of host- ess with her kinswoman Mrs. Donelson, whose supericn* charms were gracefully acknowledged by Mrs. Jack- son, and acted in accordance with the President's sug- gestion to remain as the mistress of his own home. During the long period of ill health which accom- panied the declining years of General Jackson, his daughter ministered to him as a loving woman only can. Never for a moment was lier watchful care withdrawn, but leaving all other duties, she fulfilled her mission well. The crowds of company which flocked to the Her- mitage were always smilingly received by her, and her name was dear to all who enjoyed the hospitality of the home of old Hickory. After the death of ]\[rs. Donelson and the failing health of her father, her task wiis one of severity, but the method and order which DOMESTIC PURSUITS. 271 reigned in and about lier lioine — the attention slie be- stowed ujion lior cliildren, and the manner in Avhich she cared for the dependent ones abont lier, attest her strong Christian cliaracter and convince us that lier success was entire. Hospitality at the Hermitage was taxed in a scarcely less degree than Monticello had once been, and for man}^ years Mrs. Jackson received the world's votaries at the shrine of greatness. In the constant whirlpool of society she never neg- lected the nursery, noi' did her distinguished guests ever discover in her conduct the uneasiness she often silently endui-ed. In addition to all this, there was a never ceasing demand on her time and brain for the welfare of her numerous dependents. Slie was a true friend to the slaves of the family, and. the many helpless ones al- ways seen on a large plantation were hei' si)ecial prop- erty. The wants of the sick, the control of the young and the management of all, was a task only ap- preciated by those accustomed to an institution now extinct. On Sal)bath evenings, for many years, it was her habit to have all who would choose to o-J^ther o ai'ound, to hear her read of eternal life, and to in- struct the children in religious duties. Called to pass through great afflictions — to part with father ami husband, and later to mourn the loss of a son in his early manhood, whose life was just bud- ding into promise of future usefulness, her sorrows rest now in her declining years heavily upon her. Her grief is sacred. During the civil war, whose earliest tocsin was 272 SAEAII YORKE JACKSON. sounded near her, and wliose dying eclioes reverberated along the banks of the Cumberland, she remained in the lonely home of her happier youth, amid scenes which continually recall the unreturuing past. In the quiet of a winter's night, or even amid the beauty of a mid8ummer''s day, she looks upon the tomb in the garden, and hallowed recollections fill her heart. Through the triumphs of life she has passed, and now in the eventide sits beside her graves. Now, as in eai'lj^ youth, she evinces her submission to the will of God, and the little church adjoining the Hermitas^e is as sacred to her as it was dear to her adopted mother. In her present retirement with her children, of whom two remain to bless her evening of life, and grandchildren to cheer her with their innocent gayety, let us hope that further trials may be spared her, and that even to the end she may enjoy the sweet security of a promise made to those like her, who have finished their course, and are called to enter into the joys of their Lord. ECmSoMAJE^H-Kf "^AM ]:^lT]f'f:aS X. HANNAH YAN BUREN. The wife of President Van Buren was born at Kiuderhook, on the Hudson, in the year 1782, a few months after the birth of her future husband, whoso schoohuate and companion she was during their early years. She was of Dutch descent, and the original name Goes but pronounced by her ancestors Hoes, and since so called by all the members of the family in this country, is familiar to those who are acquainted with the liistory of the Netlierkinds. If the charms of nature — grand scenery, magnifi- cent views, and the ever-varying harmony of beautiful skies — could add to the growth and development of childhood, Hannah Hoes was incomparably blest. The years of her life were spent on the banks of the Hudson, in the most beautiful section of her native State — a State remarkable for the grandeur of its moun- tain scenery, and the number of its romantic rivers. Chief among these, and surpassed by none in the world, is the Hudson, in sight of whose classic waters she lived and died. Her ancestors were sturdy, enterprising Dutch, whose homes for many generations had been along the banks of the stream discovered by their renowned countryman, and not one of the rosy urchins of their households but knew of the adventures of Hendrick Hudson, and reverenced him nut only as the hero of 274 UANNAII VAN BUKEN. their race and the discoverer of their river, but the founder of their prosperity. Nor could the tales of the old dames who resided nearest the lofty Catskills — tliat he and his followers still haunted the mountains and were the direct cause of calamities — divest their minds of his wondrous exploits. In each ripple of the dnncing waves, in the denseness of the grey fog, or perchance in the quiet stillness of eventide, they re- cognized some similarity, and I'ecalled a parallel of his experiences. Mid such scenes and under such influences passed all the years of Mrs. Van Buren's life. In February, 1807, at the age of twenty-five, she was married to Mr. Van Buren. The intimacy which resulted in this union was formed in early childhood, and was consummated as soon as his position at the bar would justify his taking such a step. The steadftxstness of his attachment to his young relative was a remarkable trait in the character of Mr. Van Buren, and adds a lustre to his unsullied name. Some time after their marriage they removed to Hudson City, where eight years of wedded life passed fleetly away, they losing, in the meantime, the young- est of their four sons, an infant only a few weeks old. In 181G, Mr. Van Buren removed his family to Albany, di-awn thither, doubtlcs>i, by his increased and increasing professional standing and political leader- Rhip. From this time forth, the highest wishes of his enrly life were crowned with complete fruition. Wealth, fame and iiilluence were the fruits of his un- AN EAKLY SUINBIEK HOME. 275 remitted industry for nearly twenty years. " Hia natural talents bad reached their full expansion ; his laborious industry exhibited its proper results ; and amid a constellation of great minds, whose brilliant efibrts erected and adorned the fabric of New York jurisprudence, the vigor of his intellect and the rich- ness of his learning won for him a conspicuous and ac- knowledged eminence." But the voice of adulation fell upon, unheeding ears when sickness invaded the household and hastened the cherished wife and mother from her loved ones. Not even the ardent devotion, the deathless affection of the husband whose efforts in life had all been made for her, could stay the destroyer in his cruel work. For months she lay an invalid, tended by those who loved her more than life, and then sank into the grave a vic- tim of consumption. A geiiftleman of high distinction, who knew her intimately from her earliest years, said, "there never was a woman of a purer and kinder heart." Gentle and winning in life, her memory is redolent with the })erfume of her saintly sweetness and purity. From this point I epote the words of Miss Cantiue, the niece of Mrs. Van Buren, who was but sixteen years of age at the time of her aunt's death. " Aunt Han- nah lived but a short time after their removal to Al- bany, dying at the early age of thirty-five, when her youngest child was still an infant. I can recall but little about her till her last sickness and death, except the general impression I have of her modest, even timid manner — her shrinking from observation, and 27() HANNAH VAN BUltEN. licr loviug, gentle disposition. The last, long sickness (she was confined to the house for six months) and her death are deeply engraved on my memory. When told by her physicians that she could live, in all pro- bability, but a few days longer, she called her children to her and gave them her dying counsel and blessing, and with the utmost composure bade them farewell and committed them to the care of the Saviour she loved, and in whom she trusted. " This scene was the more remarkable to those who ^vitnessed it, as, through the most of her sickness, she had been extremely nervous, being only able to see her children for a few moments on those days on which she was most comfortable. They could only go to her bedside to kiss her, and then be taken away. As an evidence of her perfect composure in view of death, I will mention this fact. It was customary in that day, at least it was the custom in the city of Albany, for the bearers to wear scarfs which were provided by the fiimily of the deceased. Aunt requested that this might be omitted at her Inirial, and that the amount of the cost of such a custom should be given to the poor. Her wishes were entii'ely carried out." The following obituary notice is in itself a sketch of the character of Mrs. Van Buren, and was written by one who knew her better than any one out of her own family. tVom the Albany Argus, Fd>. Sth, 1819. "Died in this city, on the evening of Friday the 5lh insl., after a lingering illness, Mrs. Hannah Van JOY OF THE CHRISTIAN FAITH. 277 Buren, wife of tlie Hon. Martin Van Bureii, iu the 36tfc year of her age. The death of this amiable and excel- lent woman is severely felt by a numerous circle of relatives and friends. As a daughter and a sister, wife and mother, her loss is deeply deplored, for in all these various relations she was affectionate, tender, and truly estimable. But the tear of sorrow is almost dried by the reflection that she lived the life, and died the death, of the righteous. Modest and unassuming, possessing the most engaging simplicity of manners, her heart was the residence of every kind affection, and glowed with sympathy for the wants and sufferings of others. Her temper wsls uncommonly mild and sweet, her bosom was filled with benevolence and content — no love of show, no ambitious desu^s, no pride of osten- tation ever disturbed its peace. When her attention was directed, some years before her death, to the im- portant concerns of religion and salvation, she j)resented to the gospel she embraced a rich soil for the growth and cultivation of every Christian principle. Humility was lier crowning grace, she possessed it in a rare de- gree ; it took deep root and flourished full and fair, shedding over every action of her life its genial influence. She was an ornament of the Christian faith, exemplify- ing in her life the duty it enjoins, and experiencing, in a good degree, its heavenly joys, its cheering hopes. In her last illness she was patient and resigned. In the midst of life, with all that could make it worth possessing — esteemed and loved, happy in her family and friends — she was forced away. But she left all without a sigh. She waited the cipproach of death wit!) 278 HANNAH VAN BUREN. calmness — her Redeemer liad robbed it of its sting and made it a welcome messenger. Doubtless, ' 'twas gain for lier to die.' Doubtless, she is now enjoying that rest ' which remaineth for the people of God.' Pre- cious shall be the memory of her virtues, " Sweet the savor of liei- name, And soft her sleeping bed." X. XL ANGELICA VAN BUKEN. The era in wliicli Ilannali Van Buren lived was far removed from lier husband's ascension to the Presidency, for she had been dead seventeen years, when, in 1837, that event occurred. But for the presence of his accomplished daughter- in-law, his administration would have been socially a failure ; the prestige of his high position was not com- plete until the honors were shared with his young rel- ative. Angelica Singleton, the daughter of Bichard Sin- gleton, Esq., was born in Sumpter District, South Carolina. Her grandfather, Singleton, and her great-grandfather General Bichardson, served with distinction in the revolutionary war. On the ma- ternal side, her grandfather, John Coles, Esq., of Albemarle County, Virginia, was the intimate and valued friend of Presidents Jefferson and Madison, and two of his sons wei'e respectively their private secretaries during their Presidential terms. Miss Singletou's early advantages were in keeping with her elevated social position. To complete an ed- ucation superior to the generality of her sex at that day, she spent several years at Madame Grelaud's sem- inary, in Philadelphia. The winter previous to her 280 * ANGELICA VAN BUF.EN. marriage, she passed in Washington, in the fiimily of hei" kinsman. Senator William C. Preston. Soon after her arrival, her cousin, the justly celebrated Mrs. Madi- son, pi'ocured the appointment of a day to present her to the President, accompanied also by Senator Pres- ton's family. Her reception was a very flattering one, and she became a great favorite with President Van Buren. In November of the year following (1838), she was married at her father's residence, to Colonel, then Major, Van Buren, the President's eldest son, and his pi'ivate secretary — -a graduate of West Point and long an officer in the army. Her first appearance as the lady of the White House was on tlie following New Year's day, when, supported by the ladies of the cabinet, she I'eceived with the President. The following brief, though favorable cotemporan- eous notice of that occasion is taken from a long and racy account by a correspondent of the Boston Post^ of the movements at the capital on New Year's day: — "The Executive Mansion was a place of much more than usual attraction in consequence of the fi.rst aj>pearance there of the bride of the President's son and private secretary, Mrs. Abram Van Buren. She is I'epresented as being a lady of rare accomplishments, very modest, yet perfectly easy and graceful in her manners, and free and vivacious in her conversation. vShe was universally admired and is said to have borne the fatigue of a three hours' levee with a patience and pleasantry which must be inexhaustible to last one through so severe a trial. A constant current set from the President's house to the modest mansion of the THE PALMETTO STATE. 281 much resj'ected lady of ex-Presirave old Cincinnatus ! unwind ye his slieet : Let him sleej) as he lived, — with his i)urse at his feet. Follow now as ye list : the first mourner to-daj Is the nation — whose father is taken away. "Wife, children, and neighbor may moan at his knell — He was " lover and friend" to his country as well ! For the stars on our banner grown suddoidy dim Let us weep, in our darkness — but weep not for him. Not for him, who, departing, leaves millions in tears ; JNot for him, who has died full of honor and years : From the round at the top he has stei)ped to the sky — It is blessed to gt), when so ready to die I The members of Pi'esident Harrison's family im- mediately vacated the Executive Mansion, and the gi-ief-stricken widow ceased the preparations for her prolonged absence from home. What a shock this death must have l^een to her ! For many months an interested spectator, if not an actor, in tlie stiri'ing events of the canvass and election, afterward a sharer in the triumphs of her husband, and for weeks antici- patiug the liappy reunion in the mansion of the Presi- A (MIKISTIAN VVIFK AND MOTIIEIJ. 301 dents, to l)e nuloly torn l)y ftxte from liis j^-csciicc for ever, and to see every hope lying cnuslied around lier; would have harrowed a nature of coarsest mould. She was summoned from the busy care of forwarding some matter of interest to l)e told tliat he was dead. Dead! she could scarcely believe the evidences of her senses I Dead ! or was she mistaken in what was said to lier ? His last letter was before her, and slie had scarcely ceased reading the accoiuits in the jiapers of the mag- nific(!nce of the inaugural balls. Howsoever cruel the blow, it Avas borne meekly and humbly l)y tlui Christian wife and mother, and she aroused herself from the stupor in which the an- nouncement had thrown her. In July, the remains of the sincerely regretted President and deeply mourned husband and f[ither were removed to their ])resent resting place at North Bend. Had ho.Y husband lived, Mrs. Harrison would have gone to Washington and discharged faithfully and courteously the duties of her position. I5ut her resi- dence there would not have been in accordance with her wishes or her taste. She continued to reside at her old home, where the happiest years of her life had Ixicn spent, until the autunui of 1855, wlien she removed from the old homestead to the residence of her only surviving son, lion. J. Scott Harrison, five miles below North Bt;nd, on the Ohio River. She remained an inmate of hia ftxmily until her death. During the latter part of her life, sIk; had many 302 AKNA SYMMES HARRISON. and severe attacks of illness, and perhaps nothing l)iit the skill and devoted medical services of her physi- cians, and the almost idolatrous attentions of her granddaughters, kept the lamp of her life flickering so long. Her grandsons, too, claimed their share in this " labor of love," and when the telegraph bore to their distant homes the tidings of her illness, they came with their wives to wait at her bedside, and whatever of business was suspended or neglected, their attentions to her were not relaxed for a moment. In a recent letter received from a OTanddauo-hter of Mrs. Harrison's, this paragraph occurs : " Of many of the facts of her later life I was an eye-witness, as I was an inmate of my father's family for three years previous to her death, and had the inestimable privilege of see- ing her beautiful Christian resignation and conformity to the will of God as life drew to its close. Indeed, it- was upon my breast that she breathed her precious life away." Mrs. Harrison was not indifferent to the political events of the asce in which she lived, and few were better informed with regard to public men and meas- ures than herself. Much of her time she spent in reading, during the closing years of her life, and she kept herself informed, through the medium of the daily papers, of the transactions of the outside world. Very few persons of even younger years took a greater in- terest in the movements of the armies during the late civil war, or could give a more succinct and graphic account of the details of a campaign. She was not radical in her sentiments, and in« A SPARTAN MOTHER. 303 diiiged in no preconceived prejudices against tlie South and its peculiar institutions. In regard to the holding of slaves, she was willing that all should be fullj) persuaded in their own minds as to its propriety, but her own convictions were strongly against it. Many of her grandsons were officers and soldiers in the Union army, and as occasion would permit, they would visit her to ask her blessing and her prayers. The one was given, and the other promised with a patriotic zeal and ardor that many of the sterner sex might well have emulated. During the war, a grandson and member of the family in which she resided, came home on a brief leave of absence. The day of his departure arrived, and he went to the chamber of his grandmother to take what he supposed to be his last farewell in this life, as she was then confined to her bed with a severe illness. She received him with great affection, and in reply to his expressions of regret at leaving lier, she said, "Oh, no, my son, your country needs your servi- ces, I do not. Go and discharge your duty ftiithfully and fearlessly. I feel that my prayers in your behalf will be heard, and that you will be returned in safety. And yet, perhaps, I do not feel as much concerned for you as I should: I have parted so often with your grandfather under similar circumstances, and he was always returned to me in safety, that I feel it will be the same with you." The young Captain did return to see his grand- mother again in this life after several hard fought bat- tles, in which he received complimentary notice from 3('4 ANNA SYMI\nCfi IIAKiUSON. his coniinaiulino^ oflicers. Ilei" ounty, knew not of its source. To a pool' minister she would write : " Accept this trifle from a friend." To the Bethel Stibbath-school, "This is but a widow's mite." To the suffering poor of the city, " Please distribute this from one who wishes it was a thousand times more." She continued to l)ear on her praying lips the sal- vation of lier descendants, and as she drew near the closiui^ scene, this was her son^: : J)IFA> IKliliUAKY 25, 1804. 305 " JuHt as T am, witlioiit one [Aca But that thy lilood wns Hhod for ine, And that thou bidd'at nio coino to thee, — O, Lamb of (iod ! 1 conio." lier intellectual powers and physical senses were retained to the last, and at the age of ei<^hty-ei(^ht sho was an a<^reea})le companion for both old and youn^. On the evening' of th(i 25tli of F'cjhniary, 1SG4, in the eighty-ninth year of her age, Mrs. Harrison died at iho residence of her son. Tier funeral took ])lace at tlie Pr(;sl)yt(irian Church at Cleves, on Sunday, February the 28th. The sermon was preached by the llev. Horace Jiushnell, from the text, "Be still and knovv^ that I am God." The selec- tion was made by herself and given several years be- fore to Mr. Bushnell, her pastor and intimate friend for many y(!ars. The j-emains were deposited beside those of her husband, and they together sleep by the banks of the beautiful Ohio at North Bend. 20 XIII. LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. The first wife of John Tyler, tentli Presidtuit of the United States, was the third daughter of Robert Chris- tian, Esq., of Cedar Grove, in JSFew Kent County, in the State of Virginia ; a gentleman of good private fortune, an earnest Federalist of that day in his political opin- ions, and an attaclied friend and adherent of George Washington. He possessed the highest social and po- litical influence in the county of his residence, and, in- deed, throughout the Peninsular District, embraced be- tween the York and James rivers. His house was the seat of genuine Virginia hospitality, and his neighbors, trusting implicitly to his good sense and integrity, ap- pealed to his arbitration in matters involving legal controversy, in preference to submitting their cases in the courts. For many consecutive years, he was not only the presiding magistrate of his county, but also its representative in the Legislature of the State ; and his brothers, among whom was the- late Major Edmund Christian, of Creighton, Marshal of Virginia, were men of mark and influence. This worthy gentleman married in early life Mary Brown, an amiable lady of high worth and character, with whom he lived in happiness until her death, and through whom he was blessed with a large family of sons and daughters ; the males being, without exception, distinguished for their personal courage, intelligence, m' O-ETTD-O-DA (CraiJBDSirOAFa TVLEDS, A HARMONIZING UNION". 307 and graceful appearance and manners, and tlie daugli ters for their beauty, piety^ and domestic virtues. Among that bevy of fair daughters, Letitia, after- ward M]-s. Tyler, born on the 12th November, 1790, under the paternal roof at Cedar Grove, was, perhaps, the most attractive in her modest refinement and striking loveliness of person and character ; and although al- wa3^s instinctively shrinking from public observation, she was regarded as one of the belles of Eastern Vir- ginia. Her hand was sought in marriage by many suitois, bnt from the number who presented them- selves — some of whom were the possessors of large es- tates — her heart and excellent judgment selected the then talented and rising young lawyer, who, inheriting the unrivalled popularity of his father. Governor John Tyler, with a mind still more brilliant and cultivated, was just entering upon that remarkable career which has so directly and powerfully impressed his genius, not only on the history of his noble, old state, but on that of the United States of America. The marriage of the youthful pair, on the 29th of March, 1813, she being in the twenty-second year of her age, and he having completed his twenty-third on that day, was particularly acceptable to both houses ; and Letitia being the idol of her brothers and sis- ters, upon Mr. Tyler was at once concentrated the unfailing affection and support — an affection and support which attended him through life — of every member of the numerous and powerful Christian fjxmily, harmonizing to no inconsiderable extent in Lower Virginia, and uniting in his favor both of the great political parties of the da3^ — his own 308 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TTLEE. father having been, privately and publicly, the constant friend of Henry and of Jefferson, a leader in tlie movement and war of Independence, and the special representative of the State Kights Republicans in his own rigiit, and Mr. Robert Christian having been the constant friend of Washington, and a prominent leader and representative man among the Federalists. The wedding festivities over, Mr. and Mrs. Tyler retired to their own home in Charles City County, a part of the " Green way" estate of his father, which at once became an object of attraction and intense inter- est to the many admirers, friends, and relatives of its happy inmates. Dating from this period until Mrs. Tyler's death in the Executive Mansion, at the city of Washington, nearly thirty years afterward, nothing, except the loss of two infant children and her subse- quent ill-health, ever transpired to mar the felicity of this auspicious nnion. In the unselfish, constant, and vigilant affection of his wife, in her personal charms, in her strong common sense and excellent judgment, in her unaffected religious sentiments, in the sv^eet purity of her gentle life, in her parental and filial devotion, in her watchful care and love for her children, Mr. Tyler found everything to satisfy his affections and to gratify his pride. In his admitted integrity and worth as a man and citizen, in his great intellectual powers, in his con- stantly increasing prosperity and rising repntation, in the accounts she received of his eloquence both at the bar and in the legislature, and in the high official trusts which ultimately were literally showered upon him, A LOVE-LETTER. 309 one after the other, almost without intermission ; and finally in his tender solicitude to restore her failing health and to minister to her slightest wish, she dis- covered all that her woman's heart, or her feminine ambition required, to complete and secure her wedded happiness. The following letter, the first that Mr. Tyler ever ventured to address to her before marriage and the original of which is still preserved in the fami- ly — apart from the natural simplicity of its style and the ordinary interest that would attach to it — not only pi-eseuts the most unmistakable evidence of the sound and healthy sentiments, emotions, and prieciples of character associated with both and impelling to their union, but it is also a remarkable illustration^ in view of a long engagement prior to marriage, of the deli- cate tone and exalted purity of the social structure and civilization that surrounded them and under whose happy influences they were born and reared. " Richmond, December 5th, 1S12. " Althougli T could not entirely obtain your per- mission to write to you, yet I am well aware that you will not be displeased at my exercising a privilege so valuable to one standing in the relation that I do to yon. To think of you and to write to you, are the only sources from whence I can derive any real satis- faction during my residence in this place. The pre- rogative of thinking of those we love, and from whom ■^e are separated, seems to be guaranteed to us by na- ture, as we cannot be deprived of it either by the bus- tle and confusion of a town, or by the important duties SIO LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. that attacli to our existence. Believe me, my L., tliat tills observation has been completely venfied by me since I last saw you, for although deafened by noise, and attentive to the duties of my station, yet you are the subject of my serious meditations and the object of my fervent prayers to heaven. From the first mo- ment of my acquaintance with you, I felt the influence of genuine affection ; but now, when I reflect upon the sacrifice which you make to virtue and to feeling, by conferring your hand on me, who have nothing to boast of but an honest and upright soul, and a heart of purest love, I feel gratitude superadded to affection for you. Indeed, I do esteem myself most rich in pos- sessing you. The mean and sordid wretch who yields the unspeakable bliss of possessing her whom he ardent- ly loves, may boast of his ill-acquired wealth, and display his treasures in all the pride of ostentation to the world, but who shall administer to him comfort in the hour of affliction ? Whose seraph smile shall chase away the fiends which torment him ? The partner of his bosom he neither esteems nor regards, and he knows nothino; of the balm which tender affection can bestow. Nature will be still true to herself, for as your favorite Thomson expresses it, " 'Naught but love can answer love, Or render bliss secure.' " You ex23ress some degree of astonishment, my L., at an observation I once made to you, ' that I would not have been willingly wealthy at the time that I ad- dressed you.' Suffer me to repeat it. If I had been YOUES MOST FAITHFULLY. 311 wealthy, the idea of your being actuated by prudential considerations in accepting ray suit, would have eter- nally tortured me. But I exposed to you frankly and unblushingly my situation in life— my hopes and my fears, my prospects and my dependencies — and you no- bly responded. To ensure to you happiness is nov7 my only object, and whether I float or sink in the stream of fortune, you may be assured of this, that I shall never cease to love you. Forgive me for these re- marks, which I have been irresistibly led to make. " Colonel Christian will deliver you this letter, to- gether with the two first volumes of the 'Forest of Montabano.' I do nob trouble him with the last two volumes, for fear of incommoding him, and because I sh^ll be at your father''s on Wednesday evening, if the business before the Legislature be not very important. You will feel much sympathy for the unfortunate An- gelina, and admiration for the character of good Father Patrick. Frederick is inexplicable until the last vol- ume is read. " Again suffer me to assure you of my constant es- teem and affection, and believe me to be yours most faithfully, John Tylee. "- To Miss Letitia Christian, " New Kent." In sending me .this letter through the hands ot Major John Tyler, Mrs. Letitia Semple, the only sur- viving daughter of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, says, " I enclose you a copy of the first letter my father ever wrote to ray mother ; and I h^-d a book of original sonnets written by him in his youthful da3^s, many of which 312 LETITIA CnniSTIAN TYI.ER. were addressed to her; for he was full of music and full of poetry and possessed an exquisite literary taste ; but this book has been lost to us, in one of my writ- ing desks stolen during the war. " My father and my mother were born in the same year — that of 1700, he being from the 29th March to the 12th JSTovember older than she was. They were married on father's twenty-third birthday follow- ing that of his birth, after a courtship and engagement of nearly five years. He met her for the first time at a private party in the neighborhood, while on a visit to ' Green way, ' the home residence of giandfiither Tyler, in Charles City County, adjoining that of New Kent, where grandfiither Christian resided at ' Cedar Grove.' He had already taken his collegiate degrees at William and Mary College when scarcely more than seventeen years old, and was at the time a law student in Iliclnnond, under the special ofliee counsel and in- struction of the celebrated Edmund Randolph, justly esteemed as the father of the Constitution of the United States, as Mr. Jefferson was of the Declaration of American Independence, and who had been the Attor- ney-General of Pi'esident Washington, and the Secre- tary of State of President Jefferson, my grandfather T}'ler being Governor of Virginia, and then residing in Kichmond. After their troth was plighted, he had been twice or thrice elected to the State Legislature before their marriage was solemnized ; and his last visit to her at ' Cedar Grove ' was only three weeks before the wedding, yet I have heard him repeatedly say that, ' tlien, for the first time, he ventured to kiss AN ELEGANT EEFIISrE]\[ENT. 313 her hand on parting, so perfectly reserved and modest had she always been.' " My motlier's mother was Mary Brown, of the same family with that of the late Judge John Brown, of Williamsburg, and Professor Dabney Bi'own, of William and Mary College, the former of whom finally moved to Kentucky, and the latter more recently to California ; and with that of the Hon. James Halybui*- ton, late Judge of the United States District Court of Virginia, and of the Hon. John M. Gregory, late Judge of the Henrico Circuit and Governor of Virginia ; and as to the late Judge Christian, and the present Judge Christian, of the Peninsular Circuit and of the General Court of Virginia, the first was her son, and the last her cousin, as are also the present doctors William and Edward Warren, formerly of Edentou, North Carolina, whither they moved from New Kent in Virginia, but now of Baltimore." Not long after her marriage, Mrs. Tyler had the misfortune to lose both of her parents, and now having two less to love in this world, she freely gave the share which had been theirs, to her husband and her chil- dren, and to her sisters and her brothers. In truth, at no period of her life does it seem that she existed for herself, but only for those near and dear to her. Although she was noted for the beauty of her per- son and of her features, for the ease and grace of her carriage, for a delicate refinement of taste in dress that excluded with precision every color and ornament not strictly becoming and harmonizing in the general effect; although possessing an acute nervous organization and u 814 LETITIA CimiSTIAlSr TYLER. sensitive temperaiuent, combined witli an unusually correct judgment ; although any observant stranger of polished education vi^ould have been almost uncon- sciously attracted to lier among thousands by her air of quiet courtesy and benignity ; although with these engaging qualities, and the social advantages attaching to her position, she could easily have impressed her power upon what is termed society had she so desired, still she never aspired to wield the sceptre of fashion, and never sought to attract attention beyond the lim- its of her own family, and the circle of her immediate friends and relatives. She modestly shrank from all notoriety and evaded the public eye as much as possible. She had not the faintest wish to enjoy the reputation of authoress or wit, or for maintaining an ascendancy in the company of brilliant men and women of the world. She was perfectly content to be seen only as a part of the exist- ence of her beloved husband ; to entertain her neigh- bors in her own easy, hospitable, and unostentatious way ; to converse with visitors on current topics in- telligently ; to sit gently by her child's cradle, reading, knitting, or sewing ; or else to while away pleasant hours in the endearing companionship of her sisters and her intimate acquaintances. It appears that, though she resided in Richmond during the period that Mr. Tyler was Governor of Virginia, and did the honors of the Executive Dwell- ing of the State with ease and grace and singular dis- cretion, winning the commendation of all at a time when the metropolis of Virginia was unexcelled upon DOMESTIC CULTURE AND ECONOMY. 315 tlie American continent, either in respect to elegant men or accomplislied women ; yet that she Lad rarely visited the city while he was a member of the Legisla- tnre, and that during his long term of service as Kep- resentative and Senator in the Congress of the United States — havino- been three times elected to the House and twice to the Senate, — she suffered, herself to be persuaded only once to pass a winter in Washington, and at the end of another session only reluctantly con- sented, at his earnest entreaty, to visit one summer the gay centres and resorts of the North. When either her own health, or that of her hus- band, or that of her children, absolutely required a change of air and scene, as several times happened, she vastly preferred the bracing temperature and invigor- ating atmosphere of the mountains of Virginia and the life-imparting Greenbriar waters to the seats of more fashion al>le display and empty vanity. She was? under all circumstances, the wife and mother, sister and friend, apparently living in and for those whom she loved, and not for herself. No English lady was ever more skilled and accom- plished in domestic culture and economy than was Mrs. Tyler, and she was never so happy as when in the en- joyment of domestic privacy. At her own home she was a pattern of order, system, and neatness, as well as of hospitality, charity, benevolence, and conscien- tiousness in the discharge . of every duty incumbent upon the mistress of a large hoiisehold, and scrupu- lously attentive to every wish expressed by her hus- olO LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. band as to the management of liis interests in liis al> sence on public affairs. Nothing escaped lier watchful yet kindly eye, either within or witliout the mansion. She loved all pure and beautiful things, whether in nature or in art. The grounds within the curtilage were tastefully arranged in lawns and gardens, and under her imme- diate inspection were kept carefully adorned with shade trees, and flowering shruT)s, and odoriferous plants, and trailing vines, so that in the spring, sum- mer, and fall the airs around were literally loaded with sweets. The kitchen-garden and fruit-orchards were always extensively cultivated. The dairy and laundry were sedulously supervised, and in all directions poultry and fowls of almost every kind most prized foi* the table, were to be seen in flocks. She preferred that her servant-women should be held to these milder employments, and to spinning and weaving, knitting and sewing, rather than being assigned to the more onerous tasks of the field upon the plantation. Thus, under her superintendence, not only were all the negro field-hands and negro children comfortably provided with clothing of home manufacture and make, as well as ministered to with care and supplied with all necessary medical attendance when sick, but, at the same time, the members of the immediate household had their wants, in these respects, for the most part bountifully met ; while the rarest and most beautiful toilet fabrics, and counterpanes, and coverlets, such aa are not now to be had at any price, were produced by IlELIGIOUS CirAKAOTEK. 317 her li;ni(lni;iids, assisted by tliose of the neighl)()rhood inheriting' tlie art. Beyond all question, and without regard to the portion she brought with her after mar- riage, as the gift of her father, which was by no means relatively inconsiderable, she maintained by her active economy the pecuniary inde})endenee of her husband unrler his continued i)ablic employments, in an age of public virtue, when the representatives of the peo])le, as well as those of the States, received but slight remune- ration for their services, and when, in all })robability, he would have been, otliervvise compelled to have with- drawn from the public councils, and to have relin- quished the career of ambition in view of his family necessities and requirements. Mrs. Tyler was baptized in infancy in the Protest- ant Episcopal Church, and in early life became a con- sistent communicant. At every stage of her existence she was pervaded by a deep religious sentiment, and the Bible was h<3r constant companion. For her neighborly and charitable nature she was proverbial. Although every one who knew her as a young unmar- ried lady, and nearly all of her contemporaries in more advanced years, are now dead, still her reputation in these respects abides among the living, and is i)articu- larly referred to and commented upon in every com- munication 1 have received concerning her, as well as in all of her obituaries that I have I'ead, And one of the most beautiful traits in her lovely and almost faultless character, in the midst of all her mildness, meekness, gen- tleness and amiability, Avas the perfect self-respect which constantly attended her, beating in unison with her 318 LETITIA OIIKlrtTIAN TYLEK. true woman's soul, suffering no encroachment upon true propriety and decorum in lier presence, and sustaining her dignity as a Virginia matron, which never un- der any circumstances whatever, deserted her — not even under the most intimate relations, as I shall pres- ently discover in a letter from one of her sons. Indeed, the letters with which I have been favored by her surviving children, while confirming all of my impressions previously received, and the statements that I have made in regard to her, on these points espe- cially, enable me to detail still more clearly the inner as well as outer life she led, and their narrations are so touching and interesting that I unhesitatingly submit them to the reader in preference to any thing else, so far as they appl}^ Mrs, Robert Tyler, the wife of her oldest son, thus wrote concerning her, at her own home, in the bosom of her own family in the old city of Wil- liamsburg, Virginia, under the first impressions she re- ceived after she was married in Peiiasylv^ania. to her sis- ters at the North. " "WlLLIAMSBUEG, ViKGIOTA, Octobei", 1889. * * * tc rj\^Q ijntlal festivities so profusely ex- tended to us in Charles City, that most hospitable of counties, ended last week.. My honey-moon has waned, and I have at last settled down at home. If I can ever learn to think any place a home where my own dear father and sisters are not, I certainly can do so here, for a new father and mother have opened their arms and their hearts to me ; new and lovely sisters cluster around me ; and I am welcomed and approved A BEAUTIFUL LIFE. 319 of by any number of imcles, auiits, and cousins. The introduction to all of them was an awful ordeal to go through, you may be sure, but it is happily ove]-, and I have now settled myself down absolutely as one of Dhe family. I know you want me to tell you of each separate member, and of the house, and all my sur- roundings. "You know how entii-ely charming Mr. Tyler's ■ather is, for you saw him at my wedding in Bristol, out you cannot imagine the tenderness and kindness with which he received me, his 'new daughter,' as he called me. Mr. TyJer's mother is very much as I im- agined her, from his description. She must have been very beautiful in her youth, for slie is still beautiful now in her declining years and wretched liealth. Her skin is as smooth and soft as a baby's ; she has sweet loving black eyes, and her features are delicately moulded ; besides this, her feet and hands are perfect ; and she is gentle and graceful in her movements, with a most peculiar air of native refinement about every tbingshe sa}s and does. She is the most entirely unself- ish person you can imagine. I do not believe she ever thinks of herself. Her whole thought and affections are wrapped up in her husband and children; and I thank God I am numbered with those dear children, and can ])artake with them in the blessing of her love. May He give me grace to be ever a kind and loving dauofhter to her, ********* * " The house is very large and very airy and pleas- ant, fronting on a large lawn and surrounded by a 320 LETI'JIA CIIKISTIAJN" TYLEK. most Leautiful gm-den. The parlor is comfortably fur* nislied, and has that homelike and occupied, look which is so nice. The prettiest thing in it, to my taste, though very old-fashioned, is the paper upon the walls, wliich depicts in half life-size pictures the adventures of Telemachus on Calypso's enchanted Isle. Teleraa- chus is very handsome, Calyp'So and her nymphs aa graceful as possil)le ; and old Mentor as disagreeable and stern as ail Mentors usually are. I find something new in the paper every day, aud love to study it. The dining-room is opposite the parlor, across a broad pas- sage, kept too bright and shiny almost to step upon, and is also a very spacious room, with a great deal of old family silver adorning the sideboard, and some good pictures upon the walls. There are two other rooms behind the parlor and the dining-room, one of which is used as a sitting and reading room, for it is a large double house, flanked by offices in the yard in which the library is kept, and one of which is used for law and business purposes by Mr. Tyler's father and himself. " The room in the main dwelling furthest removed and most retired is ' the chamber,' as the bedroom of the mistress of the house is always called in Virginia. This last, to say nothing of others, or of the kitch- en, store-rooms and pantries, is a most quiet and com- fortable retreat, with an air of repose and sanctity about it ; at least I feel it so, and often seek refuge here from the company, and beaux, and laughing and talk- ing of the other parts of the house ; for here mother, with a smile of welcome on her sweet, calm face, is al- THE BIBLE AND PRAYER-BOOK. 321 ways found seated on lier large arm-chair witli a small Btand by her side, which holds her Bible and her pray- er-book — the only books she ever reads now — with her Knitting usually in her hands, always ready to sympa- thize with me in any little home-sickness which may disturb me, and to ask me questions about all you dear ones in Bristol, because she knows I want to talk about you. Notwithstanding her very delicate health, moth- er attends to and regulates all the household affairs, and all so quietly that you can't tell when she does it. All th.e clothes for the children, and for the servants, are cut out imder her immediate eye, and all the sew- ing is personally superintended by her. All the cake, jellies, custards, and we indulge largely in them, ema- nate from her, yet you see no confusion, hear no bustle, but only meet the agreeable result. * * -x- * -^- * •^- * All Mr. Tyler's sisters are lovely aiid sweet. Sister Mary — Mrs. Jones, who is the oldest of all — I have already introduced you to in my letter from Charles City, wliere she resides, at ' Woodburn,' one of the plantations or ' farms' as they are called here, of her husband, and where she so happily entertained us recently. Next comes Letitia, Mrs. Semple, mar- ried last February. She is very handsome aud full of life and spirits. She has a place called ' Cedar Hill,' some distance from Williamsburg, in New Kent county, but is now here on a visit. Then comes Elizabeth, a very great belle here, though she is not yet seventeen. She is remarkably sweet and pretty, with beautiful eyes and complexion, aud her hair curled down her neck John, who is next to Mr. Tyler in age, and 322 LETITIA CllRISTIAlSr TYLEE. who Wcas at my wedding, and therefore needs no de- scription, is not here now, but he and his wife will spend next winter with his father, as he still attends the law department and higher scientific courses of William and Mary' college, as it is termed in accord- ance with the original charter of King William and Queen Mary, although it is now and has been for many years a university. " I have not seen her yet, but hear that she is very beautiful. The two younger children, Alice and Taze- well, make up the family. * * The children, with all the rest of the family, seem very, very fond of me, hut you must not suppose that all this affection and kindness makes me vain. It is very comforting and sweet, but I know they all love me from no merit . of my own, but from the devotion the whole family feel for Mr. Tyler, who is idolized by his parents, and profoundly loved and respected by his brothers and .sisters."* * The ancient Tylers of Virginia, of whom but few are left in the State, were from a younger branch of the Tylers of Shropshire, in Wales, • borduriiig on England. John and Henry, brothers, came to Virginia in the beginning of the settlement, and finally took up their abode in the "Middle Plantations" between Jamestown and Yorktown, in 1636. President Tyler was the fifth John from the first of tlie name. Tlie ol.ier line in Shropshire, now divided, still maintain their status tliere, ri'presented by the present Sir Charles, son of the late Sir William. The Tylers of the North have never been able to trace any connection or cnmmon origin with those of Virginia, either in their correspondence with the first Governor Tyler, or with President Tyler; but of recent yvars many have jjoured into Eastern Virginia, and some have now pur- c'lased estates tliat formerly belonged to the ancient Virginia family. History in the future will doulttless, u,.der these circumstances, become oou fused on llie sulije^t. EAELY C0:\tPA]S^10]SrS GONE. 323 " Mrs. Letltia Semple, in a letter addressed to her brother at Washington, and which he has kindly placed at my disposal, thus writes : — " Nos. 87 & 39 Mount Vernou Place, } *■ " Baltimore, March 27th, 1869. \ * * * * * * " It is a sad truth, but I know of no one now alive who remembers my mother in her youth. As late as 1861, there were several who had known her from infancy, but now they are all gone. We have not an uncle, or an aunt, of all our once numerous family, left on earth. The early portion of her life must be gleaned from the little in- cidents we, her children, may remember to have been recited concerning her, by those now dead. Apart from ourselves, there are those who may recall some- thing of her married life, but these have been scattered by the events of the war far and wide asunder. Her character was so unobtrusive, and her personal deport- ment was so little influenced by a desire to shine be- fore the public eye, that those alone best knew her who were intimately associated with the family as near relatives, or as private friends. Our older and two younger sisters are dead; our elder brother, and one younger, the one driven by the relentless fates to Ala- bama, and the other to California, and you, the sport of a similar fatality, together with myself, may recol- lect many little things sacred to filial devotion. The beautiful aifection ever manifested toward her by every member of the family — by her uncles and her aunts, by her sisters and her brothei-s, her nephews and her 324 LETITIA CHKISTIAN TYLER. nieces, and by her cousins, male and female — by all, without exception — we know of, and can speak to the foct. It was with each one of them the unadultei'ated affection of the heart for ))iety, purity, and goodness. There was nothing else to attract it, for their mere worldly circumstances were, in every direction, fully equal to her own, and in many instances superior in affluence to those she enjoyed. Nothing could have exceeded the devotional re2:ard of her sister Anna, the owner of the paternal est-arte of Cedar Grove, and who in addition to her own inheritance, had derived a large fortune by marriage and the early death of her hus- band, Mr. Savage. And I have often heard aunt Eliza- beth Douglas, her oldest sister, speak of her obedient disposition and truthfulness as a child, and of her al- most surpassing beauty, grace, elegance, and refinement in riper years. We ourselves know how exemplary a wife and mother she was. One of the earliest me- mories I have of her is, that she taught me my letters out of the family Bible. Over and often can I recall her witli a book in her lap, reading and reflecting, while her fino;ers were knittino- or stitchinix for some of us ; or while watching over us until a late hour of the night, in the absence of our father upon his public duties. " You know that these days of our childhood were days of struggle with our father, under heavy security oljligations, and she had but one idea apart from con- jugal piety and affection, and that was to save him from every care and every expense in her powTr. " His ])ecuniai'y independence was preserved, and A HUSBA^VD CONSULTS HIS WIFE. 325 much of his success was secured, through her economy^ her diligence, her providence, and her admirable self sacrificing demeanor. I have frequently heard oui father say that he rarely failed to consult her judgment in the midst of difficulties and troubles, and that she in\ ariably led him to the best conclusion, and that he had never known her to speak unkindly of any one. She was permitted to see him fill the highest office in the gift of his country, but before he was suffered to enter into his rest from political life, she had gone to that rest remaining for the people of God. She died, as you know, on the 10th September, 1842, in the Executive IVIansion at Washington, where her third daughter, our sister Elizabeth Waller, had been short- ly before married, and ^vhere two of her grandchildren now living, — the oldest daughter of our brother Rob- ert, named Letitia, and the youngest son of our sister Mary, named Robert, were born. " You remember her fondness for flowers. Her fa- vorite flower was the monthly damask rose, and that brought in to her on the morning of the da}' of her death, was found clasped in her hand when the spirit was fled. From the time that she had been first stricken b}^ paralysis, her health had been frail, Imt none of us anticipated an immediate, or even an early renewal of the_ attack, and far less a sudden dissolu- tion of her system ; and I had closed my last visit to her only a few days before, and had gone to ' Cedar Grove ' to inform aunt Anne of the condition in which I had left her, as if the sad Fates had carried me there to be ready to leceive htT remains, returning to the 326 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. place of their birth to repose, in their separation from her husband, by the side of those of her father and her mother, as when first quickened into life ; but our sister Elizabeth Waller, and our aunt Elizabeth Doug- las, ^vere with her, and witnessed her last breath, and they told me this particularly sweet circumstance of her favorite rose still clinging to her hand in death. These letters, taken with the obituaries su])joiued, aud the lines of Mr. Sargent, together with other communications descriptive of the daily social routine in the " White House" at this epoch, which remain to be submitted and cannot fail to interest, leave but lit- tle necessary to fill out and perfect the portraiture of one of the loveliest characters in history. Upon the accession of her husband to the presi- dential ofiice in the beginning of April, 1841, Mrs. Tyler proceeded with him to the Executive Mansion of the nation, at Washington, but with many sighs and tears at parting with hev own home, aud without the thought of personal triumphs in the world of fash- ion and display. She resigned herself to the change simply to be with her loved ones, and to receive the tender care and attention of those in wdiom she liter- ally " lived and had her being." Her health had be- come greatly impaired from a severe attack of illness during the year 1839, and her condition remained as has been described by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Rob- ert Tyler, then to have been in the month of October. Ne\^ertheless, in all the piivate apartments of the President's Mansion, the same modes of life were main- tained to those to which she had ever been accustomed. DEVOTED CIITLDREN. 327 Her sisters and l)rothers and otlier relatives, as well as her cliildren, still hovered around her, as they had always done, with increased and increasing affection as they discovered her frame l)ecoming somewhat more feehle. She passed her time chiefly in their society, receiving but few visitors and returning no visits. Her health, indeed, required that she should delegate to some one of her married daughters the semi-official duties of her j)osition. For the greater part of the time, her own married daughters, Mrs. Jones * and Mrs. Semple, were com- pelled by their domestic duties, in the line of the pri- vate affairs and personal interests of their husbands, to ]'emain at their respective residences in Virginia, but frequently coming to Washington, for brief periods, it is true, through solicitude for her health and to bestow their affection upon her ; and as regards her two re- maining daughters, Elizabeth, afterward Mrs. Waller, was just grown up to womanhood, and was not yet married ; and Alice, afterward Mrs. Henry M. Deni- son,f was still but a child. However, it fortunately * Mary, the first cliild and oldest daughter of Mrs, Letitia Tyler, in her features bore a marked but refined and delicate likeness to her father, and strikingly blended in her character the admirable attributes of both father and mother. She was a lady of the most exalted worth and lovely mould. She married, at an early age, Mr. Henry Lightfoot Jones, of Charles Oity County, Virginia, and died after her raothei', leaving an in- fant daugliter that soon followed her spirit, and three sons, two of whom only survive, Henry and Robert, wlio fought in the ranks in Lee's army, both being mentioned in orders, and the latter of whom, born in the "White House," was promoted for a feat of daring gallantry and three wounds received at Gettysburg, to a first-lieutenancy. t Alice, fourth and last daughtur of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, resembled her mother iu features more than any oLlier child. She married, years after 328 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLKIl. SO liappened that her oldest son and his wife had not permanently located themselves in life since their re- cent inarriag-e, and it was considered best they should continue in the femily. Sometimes, on the temporary visits of Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Scrapie, all her married daughters would appear together in the Reception- rooms ; but under the circumstances, the constant task of representing her mother, in respect to the honors of the establishment, was delegated, with the consent of the President, to Mrs. Robert Tyler,* a lady of ad- mirable culture and address, to whom she was, as well as the rest of the family, devotedly attached as to her own daus^hter. One of the few occasions on which she assented to appear personally in the public Reception- rooms, before a large and distinguished assemblage of men and women associated with the world of fashion and that of politics and diplomacy, was that of the her mother's de ith, the Rev. Heury M. Denison, of Wyoming, Pennsyl- vania, .1 clergyman of marked ability, eloquence, and conscicntiousne-s, of tlic Protestant Episcopal Ohurcli, and Rector, at the time, of old Briiton Parish Church, at Williamsburg, Virginia. She died while he was assistant tu the Bishop of Kentucky, at Louisville, and he died while Rector at Ohurleston, Soutli Carolina, a victhn to his high sense of duty to his congregatioa during the prevalence of the yellow fever in that city before the war. They left an infant daughter named Elizabeth, who has been reared and educated. by her aunt, Mrs. Letitia Tyler Semple. * Mrs. Robert Tyler, wife of the second child and oldest son of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, is the daughter of Thomas Abthorpe Cooper, the distin- tingnished tragedian, an English gentleman, ward and nephew of Good- win the political economist, pupil of Holcroft, and friend and relative ot Shelley the poet. Her mother was the daughter of Major Fairlee, of New York, an officer of the Revolutionary War of Independence, and of the Governor Yates and Vaaness family. Her eldest daughter, named after her grandmother, Letitia Christian, was born in the White House. A MAKKIAGE IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 329 marriage of lier daugliter Eliza])8th, and is thus por- trayed by Mrs. Robert Tyler shortly afterward, in a letter addressed to her relatives near Philadelphia. "Washington, February, 1842. * * * " Lizzie * has had quite a grand wedding, although the intention was tliat it should 1)8 quiet and private. This, under the circumstances, though, was found impossible. The guests consisted of Mi's. Madison, the members of the cabinet, with their wives and daughteis, the foreign ministers near the government, and some tew personal friends, outside of the family and their relatives. " Lizzie looked surpassingly lovely in her wedding dress and long blonde-lace veil ; her face literally cov- ered with blushes and dimples. She behaved remark- al)ly well, too ; any quantity of compliments were paid * Elizabeth, third daughter of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, was married to Mr. William Waller, of Williamsburg, Virginia, in the east room of the Presi- dent's Mansion, at Washington, on the thii'ty -first day of January, 1842, in the 19tli year of her age. In character she greatly resembled her mother, and s'lowed much of her early beauty and grace. Her oldest son, named William, resigned from the West Point military school and married during the recent war between the States, the youngest sister of the wife of President Davis, in the Executive Mansion of the Confederate States, at Richmond. And her second son, John, though a mere lad, was isillpd diu'ing tiie v/ar, "fighting for his mother's grave," to use his own words. An >tiier son, Robert, and a daughter, Mary, had been born to lier before she died. Her children, through tlieir great-grandfather, the first socetary of the Americm Colonial Congress, and their great-grand- mother, his wife, the sister of the Earl of Traquaire, and whose grandson is the present titular Earl, bears in their veins, probably, the nearest liv- mg blood to that of Queen Mary Stuart, of Scotland, whoso name her daughter bears. 330 LETITIA CHKISTIAN TYLEE, to her. I heard one of her bridesmaids express to Mr Webster her surprise at Lizzie consenting to give up her belleship, with all the delights of Washington so- ciety, and the advantages of her position, and retire to a quiet Virginia home. ' Ah,' said he, ' Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And love is heaven, and heaven is love.' ****** " Our dear mother was down-staii-s on this occasion for the fii'st time, in so large a circle, since she has been in Washington. She gained by comparison with all the fine ladies around her. I felt proud of hei-, in her perfectly faultless, yet unostentatious dress, her face shaded by the soft fine lace of her cap, receiving in her sweet, gentle, self-possessed manner, all the important people who were led up and presented to her. She Avas far more attractive to me in her appearance and bearing than any other lady in the room, and I believe such was the genei-al impression. Somebody says, ' the highest order of manner is that which combines digni- ty with simplicity ;' and this just describes mother's manner, the charm of which, after all, proceeds from her entire forgetfulness of self, and the wish to make those around her happy.'' * * * * Major Tyler enables me to glean further facts and incidents as to the modes and inmates of the Executive Mansion during this period, before which all confusion of idea vanishes. He says : — " I was for more than three years ' Major Domo" of the establishment, and to the last i)rivate secretary, SERVICES WITliOUT PAY. 331 bu.t never to this day have received from the Govern- ment, directly or indii-ectly, one dollar for my services in either capacity. My mother's health was entirely too delicate to permit hei' to charge herself with the semi-official social requirements of the mansion, and my married sisters being unavoidably absent for the most of the time, the task devolved upon Mrs. Robert Tyler to represent my mothei" on stated occasions. She continued in the role of honors, as they are termed, until after my mother's death, and my brother made his arrangements to practise law in Philadelphia, by which time it also happened that Mi'. Semple's affairs became diflei'ently accommodated, and he proceeded to sea as a Purser in the United States Navy, when my sister Letitia * Ijecame at liberty to take up her abode in Washington. Accordingly, both the President and myself now addressed to her letters, inviting her to as- sume the position and duties of Hostess of the White Plouse, which she consented to do and so acted until May, 1844. " During my mother's life, and uj) to this date, ah ways contemning pretension and worldly vanity, w^e lived in the 'White House' as we lived at home, save that we were obliged to have rather more company. * Letitia, the second and only surviving daugliter and fourtli child uf Mrs. Letitia Tyler, married in early life the nephew and adopted son of Jndge Scrapie, of Williamsburg, Virginia, whn reared and educated liiic to manhood, his own father, a brother of the Judge, as well as his mother dying in Ins infancy, leaving him by will a handsome fortune. The 8om- ples are of the family of the Earls Dundonald, of Scothuul, and of tlie same branch with that of the celebrated Blaii-, appointed by King James the hrst commii?sioncr of Virginia, and who was afterward President of William and Mary College. 332 LETITIA CIIKISTIAN TYLER. less select as to true worth than was altogether agree* able. In the course of the ' fashionable season,' and while the sessions of the Congress lasted, we gave two dinner parties each week, very much after the plain, substantial Virginia manner and style, to the first of which, usually confined to gentlemen from diffei'ent parts of the country visiting Washington, and who had shown respectful attention to the President and family, twenty guests were always invited ; and to the second, usually emT)racing both, ladies and gentlemen from among the dignitaries of the different departments of the Federal and State governments, and the diplomatic corps of foreign governments, fort}^ persons were in^ vited, making in either case quite a full table. " Our drawing rooms, as at home, were open every evening informally until 10 o'clock — never later — ■ when the family rose and retired, and doors ^vere closed. Before my mother's death, we gave occasion- ally during the winter montlis, by special invitations, in tlie general reception-rooms, a private ball, attended with dancino;, but terminatino; at 11 o'clock. In addi- tion to these private entertainments and strictly social converse, we introduced at this period — for the first time it liad l:)een done— music on the grounds of the south front of the Mansion, on the Saturday evenings of each week during the mild weather of the spring, summer, and fall, for the recreation of the public at large ; and to a similar end a public levee was held once a month, in addition to the general receptions on the first day of January and the Fourtli of July, of each year. "Nothing whatever preceded by cards of invita- IRVING AND DIGKENS. 338 tion was permitted to be considered in any other ligLt than as a private affiiir of the Presidential family, with which the world outside and the public press had nothing whatever to do, just precisely as if we had been in our own house in Williamsburg. Even in re- spect to the public receptions mentioned, the Madison- ian was never suffered to indulge in a description either of the persons or characters present, in an indi- vidualizino- manner, after modern usao;es, and no en- couragement was given to any one so to do. I send you a specimen of the only sort of notice, even in the latter case, that was regarded as at all admissible while my mother lived. Any thing more particular would have shocked her delicate sense of propriety, and been absolutely offensive to the President. The Madiaoniau, Washington, Monday, March 17, 1842. "THE LAST LEVEE OF THE SEASON. "The levee held by the President on Tuesday eve- ning last, was a brilliant afKiir, and gave satisfactory evidence of the esteem in which that high functionary is held in social circles. " Among the visitors of peculiar note were the distinguished authors of the ' Sketch-Book,' and of the ' Pickwick Papers,' in addition to whom almost all the Ministers of Forei2:n Powers to our Government were in attendance in full court dress. "The rooms were filled to overflowing with the talent and beauty of the metropolis, whilst Senators and Members of Congress, without distinction of party, served to give interest and to add animation to the 334 LETITIA CinilSTlAN TYLER. Bceue. It seems to us that these levees, as at present conducted, are peculiarly adapted to the genius of our Kepublican institutions, inasmuch as all who please may attend without infringement of etiquette. We almost regret their termination for the season, but look forward with pleasure to the j)eriod when they will be renewed." " 1 may say that this notice, as restrained as it is, bears internal evidence showing that it would not have been made but for the necessity of informing the pub- lic in some indirect manner of the termination of the public receptions for a season. I find none other. In another column, and in quite a different connection, the Madisonian says: 'The Richmond Whig admits, and we heartily concur in the sentiment, that Mr. Tyler, in his appointment of Washington Irving, the author of the ' Sketch Book,' as Minister to Spain, has paid a just tribute to the most distinguished ornament of American letters.' Scarcely any notice appears of the marriage of my sister Elizabeth in the preceding Jan- uary, that being regarded as a purely family matter. " Allow me one word more, in conclusion, pertain- ing to tlie subject. Such was the bitterness of party feeling toward us, that no appropriation was made by Congress either for furnishing the house, or for the office of private secretary, or for the incidental ex- penses of fuel, lights, door-keepers, messengers, &c., that are now so abundant as really to double the sal- ary of the Executive Office over what it then was. I left Washington with my private means exhausted, and scarcely able to get home in Virginia, only there OPPORTUNITY FOR SPECULATIOTST. 335 to encounter additional trouble tlirougli tlie fact, aL thougli it was perfectly in my })ower in various ways, but particularly through the management of the pul)- lic revenues under the repeal of the Sub-Treasury Bill and the veto of the Bank Bill — ^the first being intend- ed to operate compulsorily in favor of the last — to have constituted myself the private recipient of fabu- lous sums of money, without the public being either the loser or the wiser. And, but for the fortunate sale of a valuable tract of land which my father owned in Kentucky, acquired years before, worth now as many tens of thousands as the thousands that he realized from it, and which before sellinfr he offered to deed to me in consideration of my constant devotion to him, and particularly for my faithfulness at the time of the offer, but which I declined accepting upon a certain pecuniary understanding with him in relation to my sisters that after-events, however, frustrated, he also would have been greatly straitened in his circumstan ces, and been driven to the necessity of practising law again after retiring from the Executive Office. But with the funds thus realized he purchased ' Sherwood estate on the James Kiver, and the summer residence near Hampton, and made himself comfortable. He never received one dollar without a full equivalent re- turn, after leaving the Presidential Mansion to the day of his death, from any other source than this and the suc- cessful cultivation of the lands so purchased — all other statements and speculations and false colorings to the contrary notwithstanding." No percej^tible change in Mrs. Tyler's condition of 336 LETITIA CIIIIISTIAIN^ TYLEK. liealtli occuiTc'd mitil Friday, tlio lOtli day of Se])teni« ber, 1842. On tlie morning of that day, her family physician detected a change unhappily for the woivse, and a threatened ivnewal of paralysis. He instantly called in consultation others of the faculty, and every thing Avas promptly applied devised by the skill of the profession to ^vard off the fatal stroke, I^ut all in vain. On the evening of the next day, Saturday, Sep- tember the 10th, at eight o'clock, the hour came fo'r her to be joined to her fathers. A pious connnuni- cant of the church of Christ, innocent in soul as a lit- tle child, crowned with the virtues which had marked her usefid and unselfish life, fearino; and lovino; God, reverencing her husband, adoring and adored by her children — she passed into the heavenly kingdom pal- pitating with the immortal joys of a spirit released from every earthly pain and sorro^v. On Sunday, the Executive Mansion stood arrayed in mourning, and the tolling of the bells of the city announced the sad visi- tation to those among the living. Every honor that the sincerest respect and the purest love and the sense of a bitter bereavement could suggest, was paid to her re- mains. A committee of the citizens of AVashiugton conveyed her body, after it had laid in state in the east room for several days, to the family burial ground at the old paternal residence in New Kent County, and there, in the midst of a soiTowing asseml)lage of rela- tives and friends and neighbors who had known her from l)irth, the parting tears of her husband and her children, gushing up from the fountain of their hearts, were shed upon her coffin ere it was deposited in the DEATH OF MRS. TYLEE. 337 earth, wliere reposed already tlu; dust of her parents and of otjiers she had loved, and who fondly loved her. Thus Jived and died Mr.s, Letitia Tyler, wife of the last of the Virginia Presidents of the Uiiitiid States, a model of the exalted civilization of the " ancient com- monwealth and dominion," a representative of her sex worthy of their grateful memory, an honor to the hu- man family, and a child of God. I do not know how this brief and defective yet ])erfectly truthful sketch of this admirable woman can be better closed than by the puljlication of the obitua- ries presented to the world, at the time of her decease, by tlie Washington Journals, from the immediate hands of their accomplished and disinterested edi- tors, followed by the beautiful el(;:^^y composed on her death. The National Intelligencer, Washington, Monday morning, September 10th, 1842. OBITUARY. " There is no part of our professional duty so pain- ful to us as that of announcing the departure from this life of individuals of honorable and enviable veimte, and whose personal virtues render their deaths deeply afflictive dispensations to a large and affectionate fam- ily, and to a wide circle of relatives and friends. " Sucli is the duty which we have now to perform, of announcing the death of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wdfe of the President of the United States. " This most estimable lady was in life, more truly than we can represent her in words, a wife, a mother, 15 338 LETITIA CHEISTIAX TYLER. and a Cliristian — loving and confiding to Ler husband, gentle and affectionate to her children, kind and chari table to the needy and the afflicted. Deeply impressed in early life by her highly respected and pious parents with the truthful and heavenly doctrines of the meek Jesus, in all her actions, with whatever sphere in life connected, self was forgotten by her, and the good of others alone remembered, which won for her wherever she was known, the love and esteem of all. " Tlie pure spirit which animated her to such vir- tuous and exemplary deeds, fled to the bosom of its God at eiglit o'clock, on Saturday night the 10th inst. " Her funeral Avill take place at the President's Man- sion, at four o'clock this evening, Monday 12th Septem- ber. The reverend clergy, and the friends and acquain- tances of the family are invited to attend." " The Daily GlobeT Washington, Moadny Evening, September 12th, 1842. OBITUAKY. " Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wife of the President of the United States, expired at eight o'clock, on the evening of Saturday last. " She had been, for some years past, a patient suf- ferer from paralysis, preserving in tlie midst of the afflictions it brought the amenity of manners, gentle- ness of temper, and anxious liberal benevolence, which distinguished her from early life. Years before Mrs. Tyler reiched the exalted station — in which every indi- vidual attribute looms more lara:elv than in humble OBITUARY NOTICES. 339 life — we liad, from a lady in Riclimond, Virginia, where sbe had resided during the period her husband was Governor of that State, a sketch of her character and attributes, then in perfect health and adorned with beauty, which impressed us with the idea that Mr. Tyler had been still more fortunate in his domestic than in his public life. She was represented to us as one of the most benign and amiable of human beings, with all the endearing qualities of wife, mother, and friend, while possessing a fine understanding. Her good influence was felt throughout the whole circle in which she moved. " The funeral service is to be performed over her remains, at the President's Mansion, this evening. They will be removed to-morrow for interment in Vir- ginia." " The Madisoniany Washington, Tuesday Morning, September 13th, 1842. OBITUAKT. " Again death has winged a fatal shaft at the Palace of the Presidents. The first pierced the breast of a President, and this has stricken down the consort of one. All the ways of Providence are wise and just ! We cannot but mourn, yet we must submit in humility. When our paper for Monday morning went to press on Saturday evening — for we do no work on the Sabbath day — we expected, and so intimated, from what we had heard, that before the morning the consort of the Chief Magistrate would be no more among the living -and so it was. 340 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. " On Sunday, a gloom seemed -to pervade tlie city. An expression of sorrow and condolence was observed on most faces. Party feelings were buried for the time. The Kector of St. John's Church, Dr. Hawley, announced in feeliuo- terms the sad event to the con- gregation during the morning service. The President's pew was draped in black and tenantless. Mrs. Tyler was a communicant of the Episcopal Church. " On Monday, obituary notices, as brief and chaste as they are just and true, were prepared and published in the National Intelligencer, and the Daily Grlobe, by Mr. Joseph Gales, and Mr. Francis P. Blair, in their respective editorial columns. " At four o'clock, p. m., on Monday, the funeral ser- vices were performed, and a sermon for the occasion was preached by Dr. Hawley, at the President's Man- sion, in the presence of an immense concourse of citi- zens. ** Flowers were strewn over the bier — fit emblems of fading mortality. " The mute grief of the stricken Chief Magistrate and his afflicted family found a sympathetic throb in every bosom. "Never did we witness a more impressive scene. Cabinet Ministers, Senators, and Members, without distinction of party — the rich and the poor, aye ! the humblest, always found access to the depai-ted — were there and mourned with the bereaved family. " The President, accompanied by those members of his household and relatives of the family who were sojourning in Washington left the city this morning, HER BURIAL IN VIRGINIA. 341 Tuesday, 13th September, in attendance on her mortal remains, to be interred at Cedar Grrove, in 'New Kent County, Virginia, the place of her birth, and where she was married under the paternal roof. " Mrs. Tyler was the daughter of Mr. Robert Chris- tian, who enjoyed, during a long life, the confidence and esteem of all who knew him, and who served for many years as a member of the Virginia Legislature. She was born on the 12th of November, 1790, was married to Mr. Tyler on the 29th of March, 1813, was bap tidied in the Protestant Episcopal Church in early life, and died in the fifty-second year of her age. She was stricken with paralysis nearly four years ago. The blow was extremely severe, and although by the kind and unremitting attentions bestowed on her, un- der the direction of able physicians, she was restored to a condition of comparative comfort, yet her sys- tem remained greatly shattered, and her health con- tinued evermore precarious. Indeed, it became indis- pensably necessary that she should forego, to a great extent, the enjoyment of those social circles which she had previously adorned. Her family have continually watched over her with the greatest anxiety, and Dr. Thomas has been assiduous in his almost daily visits to the President's Mansion for many months, in recogni- tion of the profound affections centeriug in her. But though it was seen that she was gradually fading away beneath the cruel disease under which she labored, no apprehensions of an early dissolution were anticipated until Friday the 9th instant, when Dr. Sewell, at the instance of Dr. Thomas, was called in as advising phy- 342 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLEE. sician. She continued thereafter to declhie, until eiirht o'clock on Saturday night, the 10th instant, when she breathed her last, surrounded by her sorrowing family and relatives. Pier end was quiet and tranquil, like one falling from weariness into profound slumber, ex- hibiting a mind at rest with itself and a heart of vir- tue. She was, 'in life,' as has been most truly re- marked by the National Intelligencer, and substan- tially repeated in the Daily Globe, ' a wife, a mother, and a Christian, loving and confiding to h.er husband, gentle and affectionate to her children, kind and chari- table to the needy and the afflicted ; ' and in death she sleeps the sleep of the righteous and the beloved of Heaven ! " The President, after paying the last sad rites to her remains, will, we learn, pass a few days with his daugh- ter, Mrs. Letitia Semple, at her residence in New Kent County, and then take up his abode at the Rip Raps, in complete retirement and seclusion until the near ap- proach of the time for the reassembling of the Con- gress. "The secretaries of the government will attend the exequies to Virginia ; and General Hunter, the mar- shal of the district, Mr. Fendall, the district attorney, General John Eaton, late of the cabinet of Pi-esident Jackson, General John Mason, Major Nutt, Major No- land, Major Dade, and other citizens, will proceed as pall-bearers to the interment and final rest of the body in the burial ground where rejx>se the ashes of her father and her mother. " No pearl ever inhabited its shell more pure than ELEGY. 343 the soul, now, we fondly believe, dwelling witli its God that quickened into being and maintained existence on earth enshrined in the form of Mrs. Letitia Tyler." '' The Sun.:' Baltimore, Saturday, September 17th, 1842. ELEGY On the death of Mrs. Letitia Tyler, wife of the Presi- dent of the United States, in the Executive Mansion at Washington, September lOtb, 1842. "Husheil be tlie air! let no rude breath Disturb lier dreamless sleep, While angels round her silent bier Their holy vigils keep ! Faintly her spirit passed away, Like the last loveliest streak of day That f;ides upon the deep — A farewell beam, which love in vain Seeks fondly tt) illume ag.-iin. Hark! from afar, like Sabbath chimes, Is heard a nation's wail ! In plaintive accents, sad and low, It swells ujion the gale : — From Mississippi's turbid waves To where St. John's dark current laves The border foeman's trail. Its lingering echoes rise and fall Like death-chants in a funeral hall. We mourn, but not like those whose hopes In fetters cling to earth ; The trance we deem thy signet, Death, But marks the spirit's birth : — While memory paints her soaring mind, Her seraph form, her soul refined, 344 LETITIA CHRISTIAN TYLER. Her loveliness and worth, "We feel that, like tlic stricken dove, She's fled uuto her home of love. Yet o'er thy grave, departed one I Unbidden tears will start, And mournful sobs the bosom heave, Mute offering of the heart ! Manhood and youth, and tottering age, Will there perform a pilgrimage. From the rude tliroug apart: — While maid and matron join to tell The gifts that from her bounty fell. Virginia 1 from thy diadem A priceless gem has fled ! The peerless daughter of thy pride Is numbered with the dead ! Thy young and joyous croAvds no more Will throng around her welcome door, By her sweet counsels led — Nor will the music of her voice Again her children's hearts rejoice. But let no cypress o'er her tomb Its gloomy influence throw; Its chilling shade would ill reflect Her soul who sleeps below. Flowers of the richest perfume there Should fling tlieir breath upon the air • And crystal streamlets flow ; That fond affection there may find Meet emblems of her heavenly niiad." XIV. JULIA GARDINER TYLER. President John Tyler was married to Miss Julia Gardiner the 26tli day of June, 1844, at the Church of the Ascension, New York City. Immediately after the wedding, the bridal party returned to the White House, where they held a grand reception in lieu of the usual wedding festivities. It was the first, and up to the present time, the only instance of the marriage of a President, and the affair created great excitement and interest throughout the United States, heightened doubtless by the recollection of the tragic death of the father of the bride, a few months previous. Miss Gardiner was the daughter of a wealthy gen- tleman residing on Gardiner's Island, and the eldest of three children. Her education, contmued at home un- til her sixteenth year, was completed at the Chegary Institute, in New York City. Immediately after the termination of her school life, she accompanied lier father to Europe. Peturning fi-om abroad after an ex- tended tour, she visited, during the sitting of Congress, the National Capital, and there for the first time met the distinguished man to whom she was afterward married. It was while on a visit to Washington in the win- ter of 1844, that Mr. Gardiner and his young daughter were invited by Captain Stockton to accompany a large party of the Presidejit's friends to Alexandria, and on 346 JULIA GARDINER TYLER. the return trij), wlien just opposite to the fort, all tlie gentlemen were invited on deck to witness the tiring of the " peace-maker." Many of the party, who were all partaking of a collation, responded to the invita- tion : amono: the number the father of Miss Gardinei*. The explosion startled the President, who with the ladies had remained beloAV, and in a moment the piercing cries of the wounded fdled the hearts of the passengers with terror. Death had made fearful havoc, and the living waited in bi'eathless anxiety for the announcement of the names of the victims. The bodies were conveyed to the White House, where the funeral services were preached, and the last sad rites performed. The following summer Miss Gardiner was married, and from that time until the close of her husband's administration, a period of eight months, she did the honors of the Executive Mansion, performing her agreeable task with credit to herself and pleasure to her friends. After President Tyler's retirement from public life, he removed to his home in Virginia, where he contin- ued to reside until his death, which occurred in Rich- mond, the I'Zth of January, 18G2. Mrs. Tyler retired to her home, Carleton Hill, Staten Island, where, blessed with the companionship of her cliildren, and surrounded by friends, she enjoys the combined gifts of affluence and health; and in the possession of those attrJl)utes which render compan- ionship agreeable and life a blessing, she is passing the days of lier earth-life. MiaSooFAMIE; OILIEo ^ .XV. SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. Saeaii Childress, the daughter of Captain Joel and Elizabeth Childress, was born neai' Murfreesboro, in Rutherford County, Tennessee, the 4th day of Septem- ber, 1803. In that beautiful portion of the South, al- most a wilderness then, passed the younger years of her life, and there is little to record of it save its con- tentment and tranquil happiness. Her father, a farmer in easy circumstances, and considered rich for those dajT's, allowed his children every benefit to be derived from his ' fortunate circumstances, and she was early placed at school. The Moravian Institute at Salem, North Carolina, was chosen by Mr. Childress as the most suitable place for his little daughter, and she was placed in that strict and most thorough establishment. There she attained discipline and culture, and her school days with their varying shadows and sunshine passed quietly away. There was nothing to mar the influence of those happy school days, and each as it came, did its appointed duty in moulding her character. The April life fleeted by, clouds and sunshine, little griefs and joys, the studious hour, the frank compan- ionship of girlhood, the animating walk, hand in hand with young friends and with nature, soon rolled away, and Sarah Childress returned home. Surrounded in her father's house by all the comforts possible to ob- tain in that State in those days, and possessing a hope- 348 SAEAH CHILDEESS POLK. fill temperament and sunny heart, adorned witli all the accomplishments that the attention of parents and teachers could bestow, she was a bright ornament in her home, and a pleasure to her friends and society. At the early age of nineteen she was married to James Knox Polk, in Murfreesboro, The wedding was a festival of rejoicing, at which many friends of the bride and groom assisted, and was characterized by the abundance and merriment customary at that day. Mr. Polk had recently entered j^ublic life, and was then a raeml:>er of the Legislature of Tennessee. In the following year, he was elected to Congress from the district, at that time composed of the counties of Giles, Maury, Lincoln and Bedford. During fourteen ses- sions he continued the representative of that district. After having served on the most important committees in the House, he was, in 1836, elected Speaker of the House of Representatives, a position for which his stu- dious and industrious habits, together with his con- stantly increasing popularity peculiarly fitted him. Mrs. Polk did not fail to accompany hei' husband to Washington, every winter except in a single instance. She occupied there a conspicuous place in society, and by her polite manners and sound judgment made her companionship pleasant and inspiriting, not only to Mr. Polk but to the friends by whom he was surround- ed. Mrs. Polk was a highly cultivated, without being a literary woman. Being interested in all that related to her husband, she took pains to inform herself fully in political affairs, and read all the news and discus- sions of the day relating to the ^vell•being of the coun- HER MENTAL STATUS. 349 try, siibjects wliicli to most ladies of that day proved wearisome and hard to uuderstand. Living in the atmosphere of politicians and surrounded by public men, she however avoided the maelstrom upon which ladies are often strauded, and never discussed a subject in relation to which her sex were expected, to be en- tirely ignorant. Women were then as now, supposed to be too weak to understand the mighty problem of Government, and they evidenced their acquiescence in such a supposition by remaining entirely unacquainted with the politics of the country. Not so Mrs. Polk, who however was no politician, for her visitors were not aware of the depth of her understanding, nor were they offended by the recurrence to a subject deemed out of her sphere. There was an intuitive feeling in her heart of what was due to her delicacy, and she was wise enough to be consistent and appropriate in all her actions. Yet her mind was strengthened by careful reading and intimate intercourse with many of the finest minds in the country. Mr. Polk's residence was at Columbia, Tennessee, where the intervals between the sessions of Conoress were spent among his relatives. In the year 1834, Mrs. Polk joined the Presbyterian Church of that place. Since that time her character has been entirely a Christian one. Faithful and devout, consistent in her conduct to every rule and requirement of her sect, she has exemplified in her life the punctual observance of a vow, to serve her God through the acknowledged tenets of the Presbyterian orthodoxy. On the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Polk from Wash- 350 SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. iiigton, in 1839, Mrs. Polk received the graceful com« jjliment of a copy of verses, addressed to lier by the eminent jurist, Hon. Joseph D. Story. In the same year, Mr. Polk was made the Governor of Tennessee, and removed his residence to Nashville, in order to fulfil the duties of his new position. Mrs. Polk, always amiable and animated by the truest fidel- ity to her husband's interests, exerted a wide influ- ence in the new circle into which her life had been cast. By the winning gentleness which ever accom- panied her fine social qualities, she attracted even those members of the Legislature who were among the op- ponents of Mr. Polk. And this is saying a great deal when it is remembered that the political campaign of 18-40 was the most fierce and exciting one in the his- tory of the country. It is known as the " hard cider and log-cabin campaign." Politiciil rancor and animos- ity prevailed to an unprecedentd degree. But the lady-like affability and high and exalted virtues of Mrs. Polk, won universal admiration from friend and foe alike. She lived above the warring elements that surrounded her. The calm and charminac bearing: of the Governor's wife was a source of constant praise. From the sister states of Tennessee and Kentucky, came the opposing Presidential candidates in 18-44. Henry Clay the idol of the Whig party, and the most popular public man in the Commonwealth against the champion of Democracy James K. Polk. The election was keenly contested, and the result most damaging to the Whig party. March 4th, 1845, Mr. Polk was inaugurated. The day was very disa^ IN THE PRESIDENTIAL MANSION. 351 groeable, rain and mud rendering much of a display out of the question. He was accompanied from the Capitol to the White House by the retii'ing President, who there took a kindly leave, wishing him prospeiity and happiness in his new and exalted position. Mrs. Polk immediately assumed the agreeable duties of the lady of the White House, and having no children to occupy her time, she devoted herself entirely to the pleasures of her new station. She held weekly recep- tions, and it was customary for her to receive her com- pany sitting. The extreme formality required now, was not practised then. The crowds that attend the few levees held by the President's family, renders every- thing like sociability out of the question. Farther and farther from the old landmarks we are drifting. In Mrs. Washington's day, the company were seated, and herself and the President passed round the company. Later in the history of the Chief Magistrates, President Adams dis23ensed cake and wine to the guests, and General Jackson cheese. As the throng grew more numerous, Mrs. Polk did away wdth refreshments, and now policemen are stationed in the Mansion dur- ing receptions, to keep the crowds from crushing the President and family, who are compelled to stand and shake hands the entire evening. Verily we are a pro- gressive people. The reputation which Mrs. Polk had acquired was nobly sustained, even when subjected, as one might say, to the gaze of the whole world. Every circum- stance, whether of embarrassment, perplexity, or trial, added to the undiminished lustre of her name. She 352 SAEAH CHILDRESS POLK. maintained the dignity of tlie President's Mansion, which, in this country of rejiublican freedom and sim- plicit}^, was often in danger of being lowered. Her parents were of the old school, high-toned in manners and principles, and she had imbibed from them what may be called the aristocracy of virtue ; an idea that, whatever the mass of society might consider themselves at liberty to do, it was indispensably due to her station to preserve inviolate the strict laws of decorum and of the purest principles. Hence it will not be surprising that during her occupancy of the White House, the practice which had formerly obtained, of dancing there, was discontinued ; a practice which was evidently out of all harmony with the place, and more suitable any- where else. The return of Mrs. Polk to Washington was anti- cipated by her friends with the liveliest gratification. She was ■ considered, by those who knew her, remark- ably fitted to fill and adorn the high seat to which she was bidden. The following extracts will show the feelino; which was rife : " We have recently noticed in our exchange papers, of both political parties, the most respectful and flat- tering compliments paid to the amiable and accom- plished lady who is shortly to take charge of the White House. We cannot refrain from copying the following complimentary tribute to Mrs. Polk, which is taken from the Southern (Miss.) Reformer, and we are sure that in this community, whei'e Mrs. Polk is best known, the compliment will be duly appreciated. ■ — Tennessee Democrat. NEWSPAPER MENTION OF HER. 353 ' Tliis lady is one of the most sensible, refined, and accomj)lislied of her sex, and will adorn the White House at Washington, over which she is destined to preside, with distinguished honor to her country. All who have mingled in her society know well how to appreciate the gracefulness of her disposition. We have seen few women that have developed more of the genuine republican characteristics of the American lady. She has had her admirers not only in the high- est, but in the humblest walks of life. The poor know her for her benevolence ; the rich for the plainness of her equipage ; the church for her consistency ; the un- fortunate for her charities ; and society itself for the veneration and respect which her virtues have every- where awarded her. We feel proud that the southwest can boast of such a noble offspring.' " "Washington City, February 24, 1845. "My Dear Sir: — The advent of our President elect has concentrated everything to and about him. The prudence that he observed before he reached here in reference to the formation of his Cabinet, still exists. He keeps his own counsels, and no tie of personal or political friendship, as far as we can learn, has been enabled to get from him a glimpse of the future. It is generally believed here tliat Mr. Polk will be influ- enced by no ultra party considerations; that he will look to the great interests of the country as a whole, and study, with the incentives of a statesman and a patriot, so to administer the Government. Should he prescribe to himself this policy, those who know him 354 SAEAir CHILDRESS POLK. best know tliat lie lias firmness of purpose commensu rate to its fulfillment. "Whatever the diversities of opinion that divide politicians, and whatever the asperities of feeling engen- dered by the conflicts to w^hich they lead, they seem, by common consent, to he surrendered npon the altar that is reared in every chivalrous heart, to the meed most justly due to elegance and excellence of female charac- ter, in the person of the lady of the President elect. " All approach her with the tribute that is due to her exalted station, and all leave her with the pleasing impression that the refinement and blandishments of her manners, the gentleness of her disposition, and unostentatious bearing, fit her eminently for the place and part she is to occupy for the next four years. At home and abroad, the influence of her character will do honor to our country. These are the impressions of your friend." '' l*^ot long since, in the Nashville Union appeared a communication in which the writer very justly ap- plauds the lady of the President of the United States in consequence of her dignified and exemplary deport- ment since her occupancy of the Presidential Mansion. Among other remarks, the following occur : ' She is a consistent member of the Presbyterian Church, and therefore has abolished dancing and other light amuse- ments in her house.' Assuredly nothing more effectu- ally commends the religion of the Bible, than the holy and consistent conduct of those who j^rofess to be gov- erned by its precepts. "A professor of religion, doubtless Mrs. Polk IIEIl KELIGIOUS EXAMPLE. 355 deeply realized the responsibility of her position. Ex- posed to the temptations of fashionable life in their most alluring forms, it required no trivial amount of gracious influence to enable her to abjure the maxims and customs of an ungodly world. The friend's of re- ligion anxiously looked forward in regard to the course she might think proper to adopt in that re- spect, and thanks to Providence and lier own pious heart, their hopes and expectations have not ^een dis- appointed. By lier consistent and exemplary conduct she has secured the gratitude and respect of the friends of religion of every name, yea, of all whose good opinion is most worth enjoying; while, in the mean- time, the friends and advocates of the rejected pastimes, nolens volens^ will even on that account feel constrained to accord to her the homage of their augmented re- spect. '•' The example of Mrs. Polk can hardly fail of ex- erting, in various respects, a salutary influence. Espe- cially does it rebuke the conduct of those ladies who, professing godliness, nevertheless dishonoi' its profes- sion by their eager participation in the follies and amusements of the world. However politicians may difter in regard to the merits of Mr. Polk's administra- tion, there can be no difference as respects that of his lady, in her department of the Presidential Mansion. All will agree that by the exclusion of the frivolities spoken of, and her excellent deportment in other re- spects, she has conferred additional dignity upon the executive department of our government, and may well be considered a model worthy of imitation by the 356 SAKAII OIULDKESS POLK. ladies wlio may hereafter occupy tlae elevated position from wliicli she is about to retire. This excellent lady, ere long, it is jDresumed, will return to the society of kindred -and friends, among whom, it is sincerely hoped, she may long live to receive and confer happi- ness upon all around, and as hitherto, continue to be an ornament to the religion and church her example has so signally honored." In her elevated and conspicuous situation, the state- liness of Mrs. Polk's bearing was strikingly becoming and appropriate. With this an English lady was im- pressed, who averred that not one of the three queens whom she had seen could compare with the truly femi- nine yet distinguished and regal presence of Mrs. Polk. She says : " Mrs. Polk is a very handsome woman. Her hair is very black, and her dark eye and com- plexion remind one of the Spanish donnas. She is well-read, has much talent for conversation, and is highly popular. Her excellent taste in dress preserves the subdued though elegant costume which character- izes the lady."" The same feeling of admiration seemed to inspire the graceful writer, Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, in the fol« lowing tribute. *' Lady, had I the woalth of earth To.oftcr freely at thy slirine, Bright gold and buds of dewy birth, Or gems from out tlie teeming mine, A thousand things most he.uitiful, All sparkling, precious, rich and rare, These hands would render up to thee, Thou noble lady, good and fair I POETICAL TRIBUTE. 357 For as I write, sweet tliouffhfs ai-ise Of times when all thy kindness ]eiit A thousand hues of Paradise To the Heet moments as they went; Then all thy thoughts were winged with light, And every smile was calm and sweet, And thy low tones and gentle words Made the warm lieart's blood thrill and beat. Tliere, standing in our nation's home, My memory ever pictui-es thee As some briglit dame of ancient Rome, Modest, yet all a queen should be ; I love to keep thee in my mind, Thus mated with the pure of old. When love, with lofty deeds combined,, Made women great and warriors bold. Wlien first I saw thee standing there. And felt the pressure of tijy hand, I scarcely thou.^^ht if thou wert fair, Or of the highest in the land ; I knew thee gentle, pure as great. All that w;i.s lovely, meek and good ; And so I half forgot thy state In love of tliy bright womanhood. And many a sweet sensation came, That lingers in my bosom yet. Like that celestial, holy flame That vestals ti-emble to forget. And on the earth or in the sky, There's not a thought more true and free, Than tiiat which beats within my heart, In pleasant memory of thee. Lady, I gladly would have brought Some gem that on thy heart may live, But this poor wreath of woven thought Is all the wealth I have to give. All wet with heart-dew, flush with lovo, I lay the garland at tliy feet. 358 SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. Praying the angel-forms above, To weave thee one more pure and sweet." The receptions of the President were always large- ly attended, and were made agreeable to everybody by the spirit of livelirijess as well as of courtesy that prevailed. A visitor says, " Last evening I had an opportunity of seeing the members of the royal family, together with some choice specimens of the Democracy, in the " circle-room " of the White House. It was re- ception night, and the latch-string, in the shape of a handsome negro, was ' outside the door.' On entering, I found a room full. Mr. Polk is so affable as to pre- vent one from feeling any awe that he is in direct com- munication with the concentrated majesty of the whole United States and Territories. " The wife of the President was seated on the sofa, engaged with half a dozen ladies in lively conversation. Ill and clumsy as I am at millinery, yet for the sake of my fair readers, I will try to describe her toilet. A maroon colored velvet dress, with short sleeves and high in the neck, trimmed with very deep lace, and a handsome pink head-dress was all that struck the eye of the general observer. Mr. Willis would, no doubt, have noticed many other little accompaniments, inter- esting to ladies, but I never could indulge in any such familiarity. Who would think of plucking at an an- gel's wing in order to give an analysis of its fibre ? Mrs. Polk is a handsome, intelligent and sensible wo- man, better looking and better dressed, than any of her numerous lady visitors present on the occasion. " Among the guests of distinction, were the Hon. PUBLIC EECEPTIONS. 359 Cave Joliiison, Post-Master General, wlio bears a strong resemblance about the head to Mr. Greeley, of the Tri bune ; Mr. Vinton, of Ohio, Commodore De Kay, Mr. Rockwell, of Connecticut ; and a Wall Street financier, who can draw a larger draft on London than any other man in the country. There were two or three pairs of epaulettes ; a couple of pretty deaf and dumb girls, who only talked with their fingers ; and scores of others who talked with their eyes, while a whole regiment of the ' raw material ' of the Democracy in frock coats, stood as straight as grenadiers around the outer circle of the room, gazing in silent astonishment at the Pres- ident and the chandeliers." On one of the reception nights, a distinguished gen- tleman from South Carolina, remarked in a loud tone of voice to Mrs. Polk, " Madam, there is a woe pro- nounced against you in the Bible." Every one ceased conversing for a moment, when Mrs. Polk inquired what he meant. " Well, the Bible says, ' Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you.' " A general laugh followed, and the remark was considered very appropriate. Durino- President Polk's administration, the war with Mexico was inaugurated by a difficulty about the boundary line of TcxXas. The country is acquainted with the brilliant successes of the American troops in Mexico, and of General Scott's glorious successes, whereby he reached and revelled in the halls of the Montezumas. The war ended in 1 848, the year before Mr. Polk's retirement. President Polk's easy, courte- ous manners, went far toward allaying the opposition 360 ^AEAII CHILDRESS POLK. which is ever apparent in times of national troul)le, and the affable manners of Mrs. Polk rendered his^ efforts the more successful. With the exception of th^ summer of 1847, spent in Tennessee, Mrs. Polk remain ed uninterruptedly at the White House ; the visits of members of her family cheering the otherwise monoto- nous routine of her life there. A gentleman who called at the White House one evening in the fall of 1846, writes in the following terms of his visit 1 — " We were met by Mr. Walker, the Private Secretary, with much politeness, the Presi- dent being absent, and were received by Mrs. Polk in the kindest, and at the same time most graceful, man- ner. It may be said with truth, she is a lady of com- manding dignity at all times ; and her conversation, generally of the most agreeable character, is always happily directed. In my judgment, at no period in our history have we seen the hospitalities and ceremo- nies of the White House more handsomely dispensed, or displayed with greater republican simplicity than at the present time. If my observation be correct, no invidious or improper distinction seems to be made in the circle of visitors. There is no imposing movement or extra formality exhibited when a Secretary or some other high officer of Government presents himself. The quiet and unheralded citizen receives a polite and cordial salutation, as well as the haughty millionaire, or some proud Minister of State. And this is 23recisely as it should be, a just and beautiful commentary, alike upon our noble institutions, and the charming social qualities of the President and his family. HER MANNER OF RECEIVHSTG GUESTS. 361 " I was struck not only with tlie easy and fascinat- ing manners of Mrs. Polk, but equally with her patri- otic sentiments and feelings. A gallant Lieutenant just from the bloody but glorious conflict at Monterey, was there also ; and as Mrs. Polk gracefully carried back his thoughts to the distant field of his early fame, he caught the inspiration at once, and dwelt briefly for her entertainment upon some of the thrilling incidents of those scenes. In the course of this animated con- versation to which I was a favored listener, the mod- est young officer remarked, in a playful manner, that somethino; which I do not now recollect was rather too democratic ; to which Mrs. Polk replied, that ' what- ever sustained the honor, and advanced the interests, of the country, whether regarded as democratic or not, she admired and applauded.' The sentiment was a truly noble one." A correspondent of the New York Journal of Com- merce has also given to the public a sketch of a visit to Presidential Mansion, which is interesting. "These the musings were soon interi'upted by the entrance of Mrs. Polk who, with an easy smile and a graceful simplicity of manner, bid me welcome as an American citizen, and partaker of a common faith. She bears her hon- ors meekly, and surely it is no mean elevation to be the wife of an American President ; an elevation to which many fond and ambitious aspirations are doubt- less secretly cherished in the bosoms of high minded American women, but which only one, now and then, can enjoy. And this one, probably, was among the last to expect it, till the news came tc distui'b the quietude of her hapj)y domestic life in Tennessee, in 862 SAKAH CHILDRESS POLK. " Mrs. Polk mnj be considered a felicitous speci men of the intelligent, i-efined American lady, avIio, without artificial airs, without any assumption of stato liness of manners, without any ambitious ornaments of dress, exchanges the courtesies of social life, and demeans hei'self in public, with a sincerity somewhat rare in the current circles of fashion. " I cannot but think that the basis of her style of character is laid in a true and unaffected piety. She is regular in her attendance on divine worship and on the communion of the Lord's supper. In our conversation, she expressed her great delight, among similai' things, in having recently witnessed and welcomed the admis- sion of three or four interesting youths to the commu- nion of the Presbyterian Church, of which she is a member. Unlike some of her predecessors, Mrs. Polk has no taste for the gay amusements of the lovers of pleasure." In the early fall of 1847, the illness of Mrs. Polk threw a cloud of sorrow and apprehension over many hearts ; but it was only a cloud, and the recovery of this beloved and honored lady was hailed with delight and thanksgiving. Some one writing to the Baltimore Sun, says, " This fall we have a peculiar sorrow, in the dangerous illness of the honoi'ed lady of President Polk. She came among us almost a stranger, respected on account of her station, but unknown to most of us ; she is now the pride of society, as well as the object of our tender affection. The social circles of Wash- ington gi-atefuUy acknowledge the happiness she has diffused through them ; the needy and suffering bless FAREAVELL TO WASHINGTON. 363 God for sueli a friend. All admire liei' character, all revere her vii'tues, and all with one consent join in sup- plicating the Father of mercies to spare her long, very Iohg: to her distinj^nished husband and the friends to whom she is so dear." A few days before the close of his admijiistration, a splendid dinner party was given by the Pj-esident to General Tayloi*. At the levee, the same evening, a great concourse of persons — acquaintances, admirers, and friends — assembled to pay their last respects and take their last adieu of the President and his wife. On Sunday afternoon, in the Fii'st Presbyterian Church, Mrs. Polk participated for the last time in the solemn services of the communion. The Kev. Mr. Bal- lentyne addressed the distinguished lady in a most ap- propriate manner ; and on the conclusion of the cere- monies, the pastor and a large number of the commu- nicants approached and bade her an affectionate fare- well. The following morceau appears in the Washington Union : — A FAREWELL TO MRS. POLK. "Lady, farewell ! amid the gloom of grief, How many a heart will utter that sad sound! Farewell ! for theo. a thousand hearts will mourn ; So much of friendsliip lost, of sorrow found. And thou slialt leave a void iu Friendship's hall, Where joyous notes were once so wont to rise, Like that fair Pleiad which forsook its home. And caused to mourn the sisters of the skies. But thou must go : yet with thee thos shalt bear A stranger's hope upon the distant way, And only fade to give a calmer day. 3G-1 SAKAIl ('IHM)RESS POLK. A wolconio, too, IM fi'iva tlu'O to my liomo, My .siiiiiiy lioino, tho old Palmetto soil; "Wlioro m;my a Iicart, nil warm and true and kind, Shall cha«o away tho ^!;loom of Iravors toil. And may life pass aa soft as snnsct hour, When gcMillo rays gloam on tho skies ahovo. And may each pulse in sweetest union heat To tho soft music of tho har[) of love "Constancy." Tho (Icp.'U'turo from Wii^-^liingtoii niul return to Nnslivilli'! was a continiuMl scoiu; of ovaiion and tri- umpli. Evorywliei'e along tlio route, deiuourttrationH of rert})oct and oHteoui grcM'tod the; nohlc traA^cUcrs. Arriving at liotne, tlio citizens of Nasliville sliowod them every possil)le mark of regard. Befoi'O the expiration of Mr, Polk's pnsidential term, \\c had purchased a house in Nasliville, from the Hon, Felix (li'uudy, in the most C(mimanding })osition in the city. It wa?5 eidarged and ornamented and put in the most complete and elegant order. l<]ver since it has heen known as " Polk Place". The surrounding grounds arc tastefully and elaborately arranged and .adorne(l with ilowers and shrul)V)ery, They extend from Vine striiet on the east, to S])ruce street on the wCvst ; and from Unl(^n street on the north, to Polk avenue, which leads from tju^ mansion to Chni'ch sti'eet, t)u the South. The dwelling is largxi and imposing, and the grounds ample, forming on(^ of the most attractive places in the city. This was the choscMi spot foi- the decliniug days of the recent occupants of the Whiti; House. Soon after theii' return iVom Wasliiugton, tin; ex- President and his wife contemplated a tour in r]uroi)e; 1)i;a'1'1i ok mi;, polk. '>(>;") tluMi a nnu'li mow serious iiiHliMinkini^' tliaii at tlui jirosoiit (lay, ITo (>V(M1 imio'M^'imI a oouriiM' \y]io oould speak and wriic^ S^'reiu'li and (u'nua!i, to obviate many difficnilties of the journey. ImiI ill-]u>altli and (he speedy t, of native niarMe, was erected on the c;rouiuls, on the (>ast(M'n front, heneatli uhieh lie the I'emains oi' the distinsi;uished statesman. On three sides of a mon- ument within the temple, theri^ are full and lengthy nisei'iptions, reeordinji; the i)i-in('i])al events of n nseful and luMiored life. The death o[' \\cv husltand was (he oidy allliclion o\' Mi-s. Poik's lif(>. It had Ixmmi invari- ably calm, cheerful, and happy. '' In (his o-reat trial ami deep di'aui;h( o\' iho wateis i)\' bitterness, she was sustained and consoled b)' the divine principles and ])recious ])i'omises oi' hov religion. She was (uia.blcd by faith to look forward \o a reunion in (he better land, with him on whosc> sti'om;; arm she had so lonj^" l(>an(Ml, and to whom her attachnuMit and companion- ship had biHMi so {\i'-Av. She had rcmo\'cd hei- mcm- bershi[) from the church in Washington, and ha.d be- come connected with the l^^'irst Presbyterian ('iiurch of Nashville, of which t.lu> lanuMited Dr. John T. hMj^ar was so Ioul;- (lu! l)(dovr wide acquaintance she received letters of condolence and consolation. The study of tlu^ President, a large room in (heseo 366 SAEAH CHILDEESS POLK. ond story, commanding a view of tlie Capitol, is kept by Mrs. Polk just as lie left it. Here are liis books, his pajjers. Lis pen and all the little articles that be- token an apartment in daily use ; as if he had just stepped out and would soon return. It is kept in order by her own hands. Such public marks of respect have been shown to Mrs. Polk as it has been no other lady's fortune to re- ceive. Prominent men of all classes and callings rarely visit the city without paying their respects to her. It was for years the habit of the Legislature to call upon her, in a body, on New Year's Day. Large delegations of Masons, of Odd Fellows, and of Sons of Temperance, at the various meetings of their societies, have done themselves the honor to be presented to her. Num- bers of the members of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church have, at different times, visited Polk Place to evince their sincere respect for her whose life has been so pure and blameless, and whose Chris- tian character is so shining an example. During the Confederate days of Nashville, Mrs. Polk received the kind attentions of the supreme offi- cers ; among others of Gen. Beauregard, of Gen. Ereck- enridge, and of Gen. Preston. Afterward, Gen. Buell, Gen. Thomas, Gen. Nelson, Gen. Mitchell, Gen. Crit- tenden, Gen. McCook, Gen. Sherman, Gen. Wood, and many others, and staff officers innumerable, called to pay tlieir duty to the distinguished mistress of Polk Place. In a letter from a visitor at Melrose, the residence of Mrs. Gov. A. V. Brown, in the vicinity of Nashville, HER RESIDENCE IN NASHVILLE. 367 is tlie following pleasant description : — " Among tlie pleasures that we most value and trust never to lose, was meeting and becoming acquainted, while at Mel- rose, with one of Nashville's most valued residents — Mrs. President Polk. By far the most interesting spot in that city is Polk Place, this lady's home, an elegant and stately erection, the portico of the noblest archi- tecture, exquisite in design and proportion. The house has large, lofty rooms, a noble hall, rich in presents received by Mrs. Polk during the presidential career of her husband. Among them is a beautiful drawing of Niagara, a fine oil painting of De Soto, and walking sticks in curious shapes and of precious looking wood. Besides these, the walls are hung with portraits of illustrious men, and fine likenesses of the President, repeated- at different ages. In this cherished retire- ment, enlivened by the pi'esence of a sweet little rela- tive, an adopted daughter of Mrs. Polk's, men of all parties meet, forgetting their political differences in social enjoyment. " But the house, noble as it is, is not the goal of the visitor's pilgrimage. As at the Hermitage, the true shrine is to be found in the shade, the verdure, the fragrance of a sloping garden, amid dazzling masses of verbena, geraniums, heliotrope, and jessamine. In the centre of this lovely mosaic is a fine monument, erected over the remains of him whose brief and bright career was cut suddenly short, enriched by an elegant inscription from Mrs. Polk's pen ; a true and noble record, honorable alike to the departed and to the sur- vivor. Here, amid the song of birds and the odor of 368 SAIJAII CHILDRESS POLK. flowers, we paid willing liouiage to all that remained of one who died lamented by liis countrymen of every sect and party. " His mourners were two parfcs, Lis friends and foes. He Lad kept tLe wLiteness of Lis soul, and tliusmen o'er Lim wept. " Meeting Mrs. Polk was like seeing tLe original of a ftmiiliar picture, and in a few moments after seeing Ler, we were surprised to find ourself forgetting, in a confiding feeling, tLat we were conversing witL a lady wLo Lad presided at tLe Executive Mansion, witL a wider popularity tLan Las since been attained by any of Ler successors. SLe seems to Lave a warm and un- envying sympatLy in tlie success of otLers, and in Ler conversation tLei'e is an exj^ression of tLose affectionate sympatLies wLicL made Ler beloved in a more elevated spLere. SLe Las a pleasing figure, wLat we call lady- like, delicate, erect, and graceful, witL a great deal of manner, in tLe last respect resenil^ling tLe late Mrs. Madison. Mrs. Polk's mental endowments, as well as Ler personal qualities, combine to render Ler a general favorite, wLile Ler manners and cLaracter give a per- manence to Ler social success by converting admirers into friends." In a pecuniaiy point of view, Mrs. Polk's life Las passed in ease and afiluence. Her fatLer was compar- atively wealtLy, and Mr. Polk's circumstances were always good. In addition to Lis property in Tennes- see, Le owned a large and flourisLing plantation in Mississippi. CLief Justice Catron, Major Daniel Gra- ham, and otLer clistinguisLed personal friends Lave mm HOME LIFE. 369 attended to Mrs. Polk's financial affairs during her widowhood, and have thus relieved her from all care. Mrs. Polk, though ever willing to converse, and always enriching the conversation from her ready store of information and observation, is remai'kably reticent in regard to her own life. Her most familiar friends fail to persuade an account of incidents I'elating purely to herself; and it is only by the casual letters of visitors and the few descriptions of some friends, that any thing is known. She is never seen in pul )lic except at church. The visits of chosen friends are grateful to her, but she does not return them, and no attraction is sufficient to draw her away from the home where cluster so many dear and sacred memories. Occasionally she spends a few days with her relatives in other counties. Having no children, Mrs. Polk some time after the death of her husband adopted a niece, who has ever since been an inmate of her house. No employment could have served better to console the many lonely hours, that must be the inevitable heritage of a wid- owed heart, than the charge of a daughter. As Mrs. Polk grows older her life becomes more devout and retired. She is not, nor ever has been, an active worker in any thing, for the system under which she was reared, in common with the higher class of southern people unfitted her for the pursuits of in- dustry. Accustomed from infancy to be served by the hands of slaves, she found no stimulant to develop the muscular oi'gans, without which there cannot exist the highest order of mentality. In her daily life she 24 370 SAKAII CHILDRESS POLK. illustrates the effects of lier early ti-aining; gentle, re- fined, and exclusive, slie lias no conception of the depths of human character nor the scope of human experience, and has not found the sublime heights to which a human being through suffering can attain. She does not possess that most contagious and popu- lar of elements — cheerfulness, nor yet is she generous and wai-m-hearted. In her presence one is impressed with the repose and dignity of her bearing, and the entire refinement of her ladylike deportment ; but the life-giving principles of impulsive affection and open- lianded liberality, which keep the heart young long after the bloom and elasticity of youth have departed forever, are not characteristics of hers. Mrs. Polk's position in her native State and in the South were such that her means of doing good were immense ; holding a position such as no other woman of her section has, until recently, held — that of a President's wife — it has been in her power to wield a mighty and beneficial influence. Had she chosen any art (H- mode of ameliorating the condition of those about her, or of adorning and rendering attractive social life in her own circle, in the numberless ways which to one in her situation were easy and practical, the good she might have done would have been incal- culable ; but her morbid exclusiveness rendered her unsociable, and her Christian virtues, too much in- clined to austerity, closed her house to every form of gayety. She might have been a Roland or a Nightingale. She chose rather to be the representative of her hus- HER LATER YEARS. 371 band's name and greatness, and was satisfied to rest in the shadows thereof. She was born in the dawn of the nineteenth centu ry, and is a pure type of a class which is rapidly becoming extinct. With her will pass away many of the excellences and not a few of the foibles of a class modelled after the aristocracy of the old world on their graftings in the new. Her life has been spent in an age and country where chivalric honor to woman is a matter of national pride, yet in a land of slaves and slavery. The young and middle-aged of our day will never know the opportunities of time and means which she, half a century ago, enjoyed; for the South is changed, and verily old things have passed away and all are new. The present generation, thrown more upon their own resources and passing through the perplexities of change and misfortune, will grow away from the old regime, and may perhaps lose many of their virtues with too few of their faults. During the late civil war, she suffered in common with the people of the South, losing much of her valua- ble property, but was fortunately left with sufficient means to enable her to live in her usual style of com- fort. Her sympathies were with the section of coun- try in which she was reared, but her conduct was throughout befitting her station, and no expression or action of hers is a reflection of aught save refined bear^ ing and high-toned sensibility. Surrounded with comforts and luxuries, and enjoy- ing the companionship of her relatives and friends, Mrs. Polk glides calmly down the vale of years, witli 372 THE END OF A PURE LIFE. tlie m(3moi'y of a past all brightness, and the hopes of a future all peace. The life-time imitation of a pure and useful standard of excellence has rewarded lier witli a glorious fame, and she dwells among the friends of lier youtli, honored and respected, trusted and beloved. XVI. MAKGARET TAYLOR. The imj)ortance attached to Presidential honors ia not in our country the inheritance of persons born to the wearing of them. Monarchial governments, by tra- dition and Law, designate not only who is the " chief magistrate," but also provide candidates in advance for the succession. People, therefore, born to such high estate, are always, from infancy onward, objects of world-wide interest ; and the minutest acts of their lives, before they achieve their inherited position as well as after, are subjects of note from a thousand pens. In our own country, the popular will selects its candidates for the highest office within its gift as often from ttiose who have suddenly received popularity, as from those who have, by antecedent history, become known to fame. It is probably true that, just before the breaking out of actual hostilities between this country and Mexico, there was no military officer — his long and faithful public service considered — who was as little known to the country at large as General Taylor. That the future Mistress of the White House who was buried in the seclusion of his retired private life, should be little known out of her domestic circle, is therefore not surprising ; and that a family, the mem- bers of which had ahvays courted seclusion and were satisfied ^vith making perfect the narrow circle of their accepted duties, should shrink from publicity and no- 374 MAEGAEET TAYLOR. tice, is not to be wondered at; and, as a consequence, there is but little left to afford material for the pen of the historian. Mrs. Taylor and her daughter " Betty, " who for a while shone forth as the acknowledged " first ladies of the land," never sympathized with the display and bustle of the White House, and they always performed such official duties as were imperatively forced upon them, by theii" exalted position, as a task that had no com- pensation for the sacrifices attending it. The key to Mrs. Taylor's life was touched by General Taylor himself, who, when receiving from an appointed speaker, at Baton Kouge, the official an- nouncement that he was elected President of the Uni- ted States, among other things said : " For more than a quarter of a century, my house has been the tent, and my home the battle-field." This statement, which might have been used with propriety as figurative language by any officer who had l)een, foi* more than a quarter of a century on active duty, was litterally true of General Taylor's experience. He was emphatically a hai'd-working officei* : either from choice or accident, his public life was never varied by thoi^e terms of " official repose " which give officers a rest at Washington, at West Point, or at head-quar- ters in some large city. On the contrary, General Taylor, from the time he entered the army as a lieutenant until he laid aside his well-earned commission as a Major-General to assume the highest responsibility of Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy, had never been out of what might be termed the severest tVontiei' duties. LIFE ON TJIE FKONTIER. 375 He was known as having acquired the largest ex- perience as an "Indian fighter." He was alike the hero of the "Black Hawk," as he was the most promi- nent officer in the Seminole war. Hence it is that Mrs. Taylor, more than any other mistress of the White House, had seen more army service, and passed througli more varied frontier experiences; for she would never, under any circumstances, if she could avoid it, separate herself from her husband, no matter how severe were the trials resulting from wifely devo- tion. This heroic spirit, that gives such grace and beauty to useful qualities, carried her cheerfully to Tampa Bay, that she might be near her husband when he was endeavoring to suppress the wily Scminoles in the swamps and everglades of Florida ; and as the long previous years in the Western country made her fomi- liar with the attributes of savage triumphs, so the final defeats that eventually secured our settlers a peaceful home on the rich plains of Mexico, and laid the foun- dation of the prosperity of the great West. Iji all this quarter of a century General Taylor so feelingly alludcnl to, when his house was a tent and his home the battle-field, it was seldom that Mrs. Taylor was not at his side, bearing her share of the hardships incidental to her husband's life, and cheerfully attend- ing to the duties which fell to her to perform. All this while, the modost accommodations were acceptable, the log cal)in in winter, the tent if necessary in sum* mer, with the coarse but substantial food of the sol- diers, and often even this not in abundance. Deprived o76 MARGARET TAYLOR. of tlie little elegancies which are so necessary for a woman's comfort — separated from the society of hei- children, who were almost always away at school — nothing stood in the wny of her fealty to her hnsband, and she was content thus to live. Through all these trying circumstances Mrs. Taylor, by her good sense, her modesty, her uncomplaining spirit, her faculty of adding to the comforts and sur- roundings of her husband's life, — fdled the measure of her duty and set an example of the true woman, espe- cially a soldier's wife, that her sex for all time can ad- mire and point to as worthy of imitation. Her domestic duties, so far as they related to the comfort of her family, she would never intentionally abandon for a single day to menial hands. Especially was she carefid in the pi'epai'ation of the food for the table, and hov/ever sini})le the meal might be, she saw tliat the material was carefully prepared. And this home training General Taylor displayed wher in North- ern Mexico, away from this domestic care ; for while he was indifferent to a degree about luxuries, yet what he did eat, he peristed in having carefully sel -cted and prepared with due regard to healthfulness; and his tent was ever a model of neatness and rude comfor< Mrs. Taylor's maiden name was Margaret Smith. She was born in Maryland, and came of a family iden- tified for their substantial qualities which distinguished intelligent agriculturists. She received such an educa- tion as was at the command of female pupils in the beginning of the century. An education which con- sidered the practical, rather than the intellectual, and lIKli J)()MKS'n(J A.'iy, Jiiid aiiioiig those examples of domestic perfection in ii(!i' State, M r-s. Tay- loi" wasemin(!nt. And to ]>o, moj-(; than this, — to ni.'ike h(!r home happy, — slu; (ivid(!ntiy had no ambition. jMjirrying an officer of tint United States Army, who wus I)()rii ill Kentucky, mix! was appointiid fi-om " j)ri- vate life," her hushand had no associations that t(Kjk him to the North, which ind(;pendent of official oj)[)Oi'- tunities, are increased by a student's career at W(;sb l*oint. "Captain Taylor," was tli(!r(3foi'(^, fi'om tli<; Ix;- giiming of his jjublic lif(;, confined to the frontiers, and was known as one of the '' hard working," and "figlit- iiig ollicers."- Ilis boyhood days wcj'e made up of adventures with Indians, anloody ground," To accept with j^leasure the incidents of tin; conse- cpieut life, was the true spirit of the American heroine. and to adorn it through long years of pi'ivations a,n(l 378 MARGARET TAYLOR. sufferings as Mrs. Taylor did, is the noblest tribute that can be paid to her virtues. For sixteen years after the conclusion of our second war with England, the time indicated in history as the " treaty of Ghent," Major Taylor spent an active life in what was then known as our western frontiers. He established forts and corresponded with the Government on Indiar affairs. His custom was to personally superintend the varied and difficult labors imposed upon him. All this while he was literally in the savage wilder uess, and Mrs. Taylor, then a young wife, persistently accompanied him. To her attentions to her husband the country was largely indebted for his usefulness, and by her influence and example the subordinates who were attached to the pioneer army, were made contented and uncomplaining. This era of Mrs. Taylor's life, she was wont always to speak of with subdued enthusiasm. It was while thus living that her children were born. They followed her fortunes as long as a moth- er's care was absolutely necessary for their safety ; but the moment they were sufficiently matured to leave her protection, she submitted to the painful sacrifice of havijicr them sent to her relatives in the " settle- ments," for a less perilous life and the enjoyment of the facilities of educational institutions ; but she never thought of abandoning her husband, her lii'st duty being for his interest and comfort. It is not surprising that when the "Florida war" began, that the Captain Taylor of twenty years previous was now a Colonel, and that his past services should have secured for him AT TAMPA BAY. 379 the difficult and dangerous honor of taking command against the treacherous Seminoles of the Everglades. True to the characteristics of his whole life, he quietly proceeded to this new field of action, and to the sur- prise of the country, the people of which now began to know Colonel Taylor, it was heralded in the papers tliat Mrs. Taylor had established herself at Tampa Bay. It was looked upon at the time as a piece of unpardonable recklessness that she should thus risk her life, when to the outward world the odds at the time seemed to be against her husband's success. But she evidently knew his character and her own duty best, and through the lasting struggle, made so terrible and romantic by the incidents of the battle of Okee- Cliobee, Mrs. Taylor was of immense service in super- intending the wants of the sick and wounded, but more especially so by shedding over disaster the hope- fulness created by her self-possession, and seeming insensibility to the j^robability of the failure of her husband's final triumph over the enemy. At the conclusion of active hostilities, the then Secretary of War, addressing Gen. Jesup, said : " You will establish posts at Tampa, and on the eastern shore, and wherever else they are in your opinion necessary to preserve the peace of the country ; and I would suggest the propriety of leaving Col. Zachary Taylor, of the First Infantry, in command of them." Agreea- bly to this order, General Taylor in time of peace repeated his previously pui'sued life on the north west- 3rn frontiers, of forming new military stations in the wilderness and paving the way for the amelioration of 380 MAKGARET TAYLOR. peaceful populations. If he Lad one tliouglit that ho needed repose, or that his patriotism was overtaxed by such a continued demand on his time, he had the com- forts of a home and a devoted wife with him, and thus cheered and sustained, he patiently performed his severe duties ; thus the country was indebted to Mrs. Taylor for the constant services perlbrmed by her gallant husband. In the year 1840, General Taylor, who now had almost become forgotten in this obscurity of the Flcn'ida swamps, asked to be relieved of his command, and soon afterward arrived with his fsimily in New Orleans. The " Old Colonel," as he was called by the citizens of Louisiana, came unostentatiously, and was permitted much to his own gratification, to proceed quietly to Baton Rouge, which place should be for awhile, at least, the headquarters of his family. With this un- derstanding, Mrs. Taylor joyfully established herself with surroundings more comfortable than were afforded in the Florida swamps. This idea encouraged her to arrange a home which she hoped would only be abandoned when the " Gen- eral " had selected some quiet place, where they would together peacefully end their days. The barracks at Baton Rouge are picturesquely sit- uated upon the high land, that here, in a sort of a l)euinsula, rising out of the surrounding level, reaches the river. The soldiers usually quartered at Baton Rouge were mustering along the banks of the Red River, and the buildings were left, save a single com- pany of infantry, without occupants, and Mrs. Taylor HER COTTAGE AT BATON IIOUGE. 381 could select her " quarters" with all the facilities the place afforded. Leaviug the imposing brick buildings, with their comfortable arrangements for housekeeping, to the entire possession of one or two officers' families, Mi's. Taylor selected a little tumble-down cottage, sit- uated directly on the banks of the river, which was originally erected for, and inhabited by the Captain- Commandant, when the post belongc.'d to Spain. In the long years of its existence, the cottage, consist- ing only of a suite of tliree or fjur rooms, inclosed under galleries, had become quaint in appearance and much out of repair, and was hardly considered else than a sort of admitted wreck of former usefulness, left because it was a harmless familiar o})ject, entirely out of the way of the lawn and parade ground. To Mr . Taylor's eye, this old cottage seemed to possess peculiar charms, for she promptly decided to give up the better quarters at her disposal, as the wife of the Commander-in-Chief of the military department, and move into this cottage. With the aid of her own servants, two in number? and the usual assistance always afforded by invalid sol- diers unlit for military duties, she soon put the neglected place in proper order. It was remarked by the people of Baton Rouge, how rapidly the old " Spanish Comman- dant's cottage" became transformed into a comfortable dwelling under the superintendence of the new occu- pants. And in a country where so nmch is left to ser- vants, and where the mistress and daughters had so many at command, they set the noble example of doing much themselves. The work em]>loyed their minds, and they were 382 MARGARET TAYLOR. happier in the perfornnnce of the details of Iheii' well di]'ected mdustry. It is certainly true that Mrs. Tay- lor and her daughter, Miss Betty, wei-e evidently too much en2:a2:ed in niana2:in2: their household duties to have time for unhappiness or regrets, if they had cause to indulge in them. The house had but four rooms, surrounded on all sides by a verandah, and thus in the hottest weather there was always a shady side, and in the coldest, one most sheltered ; and so cozy and comfortable did the house become under the management of its new mis- ti-ess, that Mrs. Taylor was most thoroughly justified in her choice by the universal commendation of the citizens of the town, — that it was now the pleasantest residence in all the country round, and its inmates were probablj'^ as contented and happy as people can be. General Taylor himself was not idle, but was kept busy visiting Fort Gibson and Fort Smith, until finally, to be near his family, was at his own request trans- ferred to Fort Jesup, Louisiana. He bought the house selected by his family within his militaiy de- partment. The domestic life of General Taylor's family was now complete. He had performed public duties enough his friends thought, to permit him to in- dulge in the luxury of being left quietly at the head' (|uarters of a frontier department, where he could en- joy repose fi-om severe military duties, look aftei- his neglected private interests, and for the few years that remained live a kind of private life. Alas ! how the dream was to be dissipated. Texas was at this time a State, acting independently SURROUNDED BY FAMILY AND FRIENDS. 383 of Mexico, yet unacknowledged as such by the mother country. The Texans, inspired by the difficulties of their situation, and surrounded by political influence in the United States, agitated the question of conaing into the Union. The result was that General Santa Anna, then President of Mexico, made preparations which contemplated, the reassertion of the national government in the revolted province. This naturally made the southern border line of Louisiana, the Sabine., an object of attack, and as Gen- eral Taylor had, with the idea of being left in peaceful retirement, asked to be in command in Louisiana, he unconsciously placed himself in the very position that was to call him into a more active and important field of duty than had yet been entrusted to him. Mrs. Taylor, meantime, painfully unconscious of the drama that was opening before her, calmly, and full of content, Avent about her domestic duties. A garden was planted, and she cherished the first signs of the gi'owing vegetation with almost childish delight. Her old friends araons; the citizens of the neisfhborhood made friendly visits. Miss Betty, who was now in the very perfection of her blooming womanhood, was pop- ular with the young ladies of her age and station. The " old General " was here and there, according to his habits ; one day away attending to some military matter, then enjoying what seemed to him an endless source of interest, the examination of the w^orkings of plantation life. He began, in fact, to assume the airs of an agriculturist ; invested what means he had in a cotton farm on the Mississippi, and looked forward to 384 MAHGARET TAYLOU. the time \vlien his income wonhl be laretty remained in the little cottage on the banks of the Mississippi, each hour becoming objects of greater in- terest, juid from their quietness and unobti'usive life making themselves dear to tlie nation. But the applause and flattery that began to reach the inmates of the old Spanish cottage made no appar- ITER ]Mly\ose. 386 MARGARET TAYLOR. 81ie superintended with others the labor necessary to fit up a chapel, then used her intluence to secure the occasional services of a rector who resided at some distance away. Meantime her expressed wish that " the service " be I'egnlarly read was responded to, and thus was secured to Baton Rouge a commencement of a religious movement that in a few subsequent years crystallized in the building of a handsome church, and the establishment of a permanent and intelligent congregation. This garrison chapel in time became a place of great interest. Owing to active hostilities in Mexico the number of officers' wives increased, and it included, as may be supposed, some of the most accomplished and elegant ladies in the land. Their husbands, gal- lant and noble soldiers, were involved in the duties of actual war, and they, brave-hearted and courageous, comforted each other. As the news came that actual collision was threatened, some of these ladies, unable to control their anxiety for the safety of their husbands, would be overcome witli suppressed emotion, and grow for the moment, wild with terror. It was on these occasions thnt Mrs. Taylor and Miss Betty nuiintained their self-possession, and had kind words and hopeful suircfestions for those sufferinsf sisters. And when at last some rumors reached Baton llouge of battles fought, of blood being shed, of men and officers falling in the sti'ife ; when those heart-stricken wives and daughters of the soldiers engaged were left to the agony of apprehension, Mrs. Taylor still always calm and cheerful was a constant source of comfort, and shed MAllRIAGE OF HER DAUGHTER. 3.87 around her an atmospliere of hope, an inspiration of true courage. At last, when names were given of those who fell on tlie fields of Palo Alto and Eesaca de la Palraa, the stricken ones of the garrison suppressed their wild sorrow, lest they should wound the feelings of their superior in rank and influence, and in the little chapel founded by Mrs. Taylor, sought through the holy influences of religion that consolation that could reconcile them to the irretrievable loss of friends, brothers, fathers, and husbands. There was, at thia time amid these scenes of actual war, a bit of domes- tic history revived in Mrs. Taylor's mind that no doubt made a strong impression. General Taylor was a great admirer of business men, and was opposed to his daughters marrying offi- cers of the army. He condemned his own life by say- ing that soldiers never had a home, and in this senti- ment was cordially sustained by Mrs. Taylor, who no doubt in her heart reviewed her varied life from place to place on the frontiers, and her constant separations from her husband, with a regret she could not conceal. It was this cause that called forth so much opposition from the family to Lieutenant Jefferson Davis marry- ing the second daughter, Sarah, which opposition re- sulted in an elopement and runaway marriage. Gene- ral Taylor at the time this occurred was away from home on military service, and when he heard of it, he expressed himself in the most unmeasured terms of disapprobation. He seemed utterly insensible to the feelings which inspired the young people in such an adventu.e, and persisted in looking upon " young Da« 3SS ^lAEGARET TAYLOR. vis " as liaviiig done a dishonorable tiling, and hia daiieliter as beino- entirely re^'ardless of her filial ob- ligations. To all protests calculated to lessen his in- dignation, he would make the invariable replies, " that no honorable man would thus defy the wishes of pa- rents, and no truly affectionate daughter be so re- gardless of her duty." General Taylor, though a man of strong impulses, and possessed of but little training to conceal his feelings, except what military discipline enforced, was at heart of a generous and forgiving na- ture ; and no doubt time would have brought about its softening influences, as the usual ending which follows all runaway matches, would have taken place, — recon- ciliation and entire forgiveness. But ere this occurred, within a few short months of her marriage, Mrs. Da- vis suddenly died, and a beloved child upon whom he had garnered all his affections, passed forever away, the last words she had from him being those of re- proof and condemnation. This incident and the sud- den death of her daughter left a deep impression upon Mrs. Taylor's life. Naturally of a quiet disposition and living from necessity almost entirely away from influ- ences of society, this sad domestic history was left to make the greatest possible impression upon her mind. That General Taylor keenly cherished for long years his sense of sorrow was destined to be most romantic- ally displayed. His call for volunteer troops at the time he believed his little army was imperilled, on the eve of its memorable march from Corpus Christi to the Rio Grande, was answered promptly hy Louisiana and Mississippi. The last named State piomptly organized GEN. TAYLOR AND COL. DAVLS AT BT'ENA VISTA. 389 a splendid regiment, composed of the very elite of the native young men, and Jefferson Davis was elected its commander. At Monterey, the l.st Missis'sippi regiment was sta- tioned at one of the forts in the suburbs of the city, and in the battle that ended with the defeat of Am- pudia, its Mexican defender, Jefferson Davis received a slight wound. Before this event, at the time and subsequently, it was noticed that Colonel Davis and Genei'al Taylor had never met, and it was evident that this was designed, and not the result of accident — there was an understanding seemingly that kept them apart. The cause of this was freely discussed, and it came to the surface that a reconciliation had never taken place between General Taylor and Colonel Davis on account of the elopement, and so things remained until the close of the three days' struggle that ended in triumph at Buena Vista. It was on the occasion when victory seemed hesitating where she should bestow her wreath — when the men of the Xorth and the West had ex- hausted their eneigies — when Clay, Crittenden, Yell, and their brave compatriots slept in death on the bloody field — at this moment, when Santa Anna be- lieved and announced himself the hero of the field, and when he concentrated his favorite troops to make a last charge upon our dispirited and exhausted col- umns, that Colonel Davis, at the head of his Mississippi regiment nobly sustained the shock, and sent the foe back disappointed and dismayed. Then it was that " Old Zach," seeing tliat he had saved himself, his gal- lant men, and his country's honor, that his heart had 390 MAIKJARET TAYLOR. no place but for gratitude, and the long estranged em- braced each other and wept tears of reconciliation upon the battle-field. Time passed on, and General Taylor completed hig brilliant campaign. Our country had then, for nearly two generations been unused to war, and the magnifi- cent achievements of " old Rough and "Ready," filled the hearts of the people with the intensest admiration. The old cottage on the low bluff at Baton Rouge, gradually became of classic interest. Grateful people traveling along the highway of the great Mississippi, rep- 2-esenting every State in the Union, and every civilized nation of the earth, would admii'ingly point out General Taylor's residence. If any of those great western floating palaces stopped at Baton Rouge, some of the passengers would climb up the hill and visit the " gar- rison grounds," and the young ladies especially would make the pi-lgrimage in hopes they might see Miss Betty, whom they with woman's (piickness of percep- tion, felt was to be the first lady of the land, by pre- siding at the White House. How much the neatness of that home, its character- istic simplicity, its quiet domestic comforts, the self- possession and unpretending, yet lady-like manners of its inmates, impressed themselves on the public, and. prepared tlie way for that popular affection that greet- ed General Taylor on his return from Mexico, and cul- minated in his triumphant election to the Presidency, is difficult to decide ; but that it had an element of strength and of vast importance is certain, and pre- sents in a strong view how much can be done by the HER HUSBAND RETURTsTS HOME. 391 devoted, sensible wife, in aiding her husband in achiev- ing: success. Meantime, General Taylor returned thetrium[)liant soldier to the United States. However wonderfnl were the subsequent victoi-ies achieved over the Moxi cans, in the brilliant niarcli from Vera Cruz to tlie City of Aztecs, the novelty of the war when this was enact ed, was gone. The first impressions I'emained vivid the subsequent ones were received with gratification, but . not enthusiasm. General Taylor returned, not oidy a militaiy liero, but over his head was suspended the wreath of an approaciiing civic triumph ; and the little cottage on the bank of ihe Mississii)j)i that Mrs. Taylor selected for her strictly private residence, be- came a Mecca for pilgrims fiom all lands, and for more than a year was the centre of interest, where patriot- ism, intellect, and beauty paid homage. In recalling the impressions made upon the public through the j)i-ess, it is well remarked vvdiat a full share of compli- ments were paid to Mrs. Tayloi*, and how grateful was the task of every one to j^raise Miss Betty for her agreeable manners, her hospitality, and her resemblance to her father in matters of good sense, and the further possession of all accomplishments that adorn her sex. But this flow of visitors, this public ovation, this con- stant Vmstle about Mrs. Taylor was submitted to and borne, but never received her endorsement and sym- pathy. Her heart was in the possible enj(jyment of a quiet household. She saw nothing attractive in the {surroundings of the White House. All this " worldly glory " defeated her womanly ambition, and her life- 392 IMAr.GAKET TAYLOR. long dream that, at some time or another, " the Gen* eral" would be relieved of his })ul)lic duties, and that together in the retirement of their own estate, unno- ticed and unknown except to their friends, they might together peacefully end their days ; and that the rea- lization of her modest ambition was due to her, for the separations and wanderings that had characterized all her early married life. General Taylor was by habit a public servant, and his future, as shaped by circumstances, he quietly ac- cepted. But Mi-s. Taylor oppi)sed his being a candi- date for the Presidency. She spoke of it as a thing to be lamented, and declared when such a position was first foreshadowed, that the General's acquired habits would not permit him to live under the constraints of metropolitan life; and to those of her intimate friends who spoke of his being President, she sadly I'eplied, ''That it was a plot to deprive her of his society, and shorten his life by unnecessary cai-e and responsibility." With the announcement that General Taylor was PresideMit elect, came his resignation as an officer of the army. It was after all a sad day for him and his fam- ily, when he severed a connection that had lasted so long, and had been made so memorable by a life of conscientious duty. Miss Betty now appeared on the scene as an agent of national interest. The White House under Mrs. Polk had been grave and formal. There was a cold respectability and correctness about it, that was somewhat oppressive to the citizens of Washington ; and there was a dc^gree of earnest pleas- ure created in the public mind when it was understood BETTY TAYLOR BLISS. 393 tltat as a consequent of General Taylor's election, tliero would ])rL'si(le over the White House a lady eminently attractive in hei* personal appeai'ance, young in yeai-s, accomplished in mind, and made more interestiiig, if possible, by being the bride of Major Bliss, who had served so faithfully under her father as his acconi- ] >1 ished Adj utant-Gcneral. Eliza})eth Taylor, tliird and youngest daughter of President Taylor, was twenty-two years of age, when, as Mrs. Bliss, she assumed the formal duties of Host- ess of the White House, her mother, fi-om disinclina- tion, refusing to accept the responsibility of official re- ceptions. Mrs. Bliss, or Miss Betty, as she was popu- larly called, -was at this time admired by all who saw her, and had the distinction of being the youngest daughter of any chief magistrate who had honored our Presidential receptions with her presence. Her fjice was pleasant, her smiles exceedingly attractive, and her eyes beamed with intelligence. She had been through- out her life but little with her parents. While not among her relations in Virginia or Kentucky, she was at some boarding school. Her education was complet- ed at Philadelphia, after which she resided with her parents. No inauguration of any of the later Presi- dents was more enthusiastically celebrated than Gen- eral Taylor's. He was at the time the nation's idol. Everything in his history charmed the popular mind, and the ftict that he was a total stranger to Washing- ton — that his family were unknown, gave a mystery and novelty to the whole proceeding quite different to common place precedence. 394 MARGARET TAYLOR. For this reason, more than ordinary encoura^'eraent was given to the celebration of the occasion by a grand ball. A wooden building of enormous size was erected, which at the time was considered an " immense affair." It was tastefully decorated with flags and other proper insignia; in the enthusiasm of the hour, many articles were loaned for its decorations by citi- zens, who ordinarily took no interest in these "stated occasions." The best music that could be obtained was in attendance, and to give the crowning zest, " Miss Betty " was to be present. The Lady of the Man- sion for the next four years, young, handsome, and hopeful, was to be presented to the admiring public. There was the usual crowd and the characteristic confusion ; but nevertheless there pervaded the multi- tude an intense desire to behold the new occupant of the White House. There was a " Hero President." There was a charming young bride, a young and grace- ful lady to do the honors of the public receptions. " At eleven o'clock. General Taylor entered, leaning on the arms of Major Seaton and Speaker Winthrop." His fine eye was bright, his step was elastic, he was brave, he was a conqueror, he was President, and the gentlemen expressed their feelings in spontaneous cheers, while ladies waved their handkerchiefs and many wept for sympathy. A silence ensued, a move- ment at the head of the room indicated a new scene was to be enacted. The throng pressed back, and Mrs. Bodisco, then the young and handsome wife of the Kussian Minister, enveloped in a cloud of crimson satin and glistening with diamonds, supported by two HER LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 395 ambassadors emblazoned in gold bice and orders, came forward, — just behind were two " Louisiana beauties,*' a blonde and a brunette, whose brilliant charms subse- quently divided the gentlemen in perplexity as to which should be acceded the palm of the belle of the evening. "Which is Miss Betty?" whispered the throng as these queenly creatures, by their native ch irms, without the aid of dress, eclipsed the more glowing splendor of the Russian court. Then behind these came " Miss Betty," plainly dressed in white, a simple flower in her hair, timid and faltering, yet with, an expression in her eye that showed she was Zachary Taylor's favorite child. The expectations of the vast crowd were for the moment realized, and then follow- ed expressions of enthusiasm that were overwhelming. The reaction that followed the inauguration in Washington was, as usual, intense. The season was more than usually warm, and the Congress fled from the Capital. Mrs. Taylor was never visible in the re- ception-room ; she received her visitors in her private apartments, and escaped all observation from choice. Once established in her new home, she selected such rooms as suited her ideas of housekeeping, and, as far as was possible, resumed the routine that characterized her life at Baton Kouge. As was her merit, she at- tended personally to so much of it as affected the per- sonal comforts of the General, and it was not long be- fore the '' opj)osition " found fault with her simple habits, and attempted, but without effect, to lessen the public esteem felt for General Taylor, by indulging in offensive personalities. 396 MARGARET TAYLOR. General Taylor was, from principle and choice, an abstemious man. On the sixtli of July, tbe dullness of Washington was enlivened by the presence of Father Matliew, the Apostle of Temperance. To know him, General Taylor invited him to the White House, The ]3ress discussed this honorable notice of the great philanthropist, and spoke of "Miss Betty" as presiding at the reception with unusual grace and affability. The winter following oj^ened officially and fashion- ably with the commencement of Congress. There was then in the Senate, Clay, Webster, Calhoun, Benton, Cas«, and lesser- but still shining lights. Mr. Fillmore presided over the body with dignity, and such an ar- ray of talent and statesmanship divided the public mind with the claims of the White House. Few official receptions were given. The excitement attending the admission of California — the fiery elo- cpience of Mr. Clay — the attack of Mr. Calhoun or Mr. Benton, and the growls of disappointed office- seekers, divided the current that might have otherwise ilo^ved on to the Executive Mansion, and it is apparent that this created no regrets in the minds of the ladies of the President's House. It was soon understood that set, formal, and official dinnei's were not coveted, and they weie not encouraged. But social and unceremo- nious visits prevailed l^eyond any precedent, and Miss Betty was always ready to dispense the honors of her exalted position, with a grace and frankness that was constantly securing for her a wide circle of admiring friends. Thus the first Avinter of General Taylors tei]ii passed away. A CHANGE IN HER SOCIAL LIFE. 397 To those wlio were familiar with the actual life of the White House, it was a23parent that a change had gradually taken place in the feelings of the female in- mates. Mrs. Taylor had gradually abandoned much of her personal superintendence of domestic matters, and Miss Betty had assumed the manner of one who began to appreciate the importance of her social eleva- tion. The embarrassments that General Taylor suf- fered from the betrayal of "false friends" had the double effect, to make the members of his family more devoted to each other, and at the same time created a re- solve to more ostentatiously perform the duties of their high social position. A revolution, political and social, had been resolved upon without the parties interested beino; awai'e of the cbano-e. This new era was inaug-u- rated by the ladies of the President's House having a reception on the 4th of March, 1860, in honor of the inauguration. The affair was of singular brilliancy. It was remarked at the time that the ladies never ap- peared to better advantage ; the rustling of costly dresses, and the display of diamonds were paramount, while the gentlemen, for the time being, eschewing the license of Republican institutions, accepted the laws of good society, and appeared in dress coats and white kid gloves. General Taylor surprised his friends by th© courtliness and dignity of his manner. Some of his soldiers Avho saw him in his battles said there was mischief in his eye. He was evidently attempting a new role, and doing it with success. Miss Betty, as hostess, was entirely at her ease, and made the ladies by her affability feel at home in the 398 MARGARET TAYLOR. National Mansion. For tlie first time, at tlie public recej^tions, slie led off in conversation, and her re* marks were full of quiet liumor and good sense. The following day, the papers expressed their admiration in different ways. "Miss Betty" was complimented with the remark that, in manner and grace at a public reception, Victoria could not surpass her. General Taylor, it was said, " had at last determined to open the campaign for the second term, and those about him, who were intriguing for the succession for others than for himself, would have to stand aside." These suspicions were justified by constantly repeated rumors that Cabinet changes would be made that would en tirely change the character of the general Administra- tion. Mr. Webster began now to visit the White House, and was treated with marked consideration by its female inmates. The influence of the ladies of the White House began to be felt in political circles, and what had been for the preceding year a negative, now became a j^ositive jDOwer. Gentlemen who had dis- tinguished themselves for the early advocacy of Gen- eral Taylor's election, bat who had received no I'ecog- nition, were now welcomed to the White House. It was evident that a radical change had come over its inmates. General Taylor seemed at last to begin to understand his duties, and knowinor them, he com- menced their performance with the same zeal and determination that marked his military career. Four months of spring and summer passed away. The seventy-fourth anniversary of our national Fourth of July was approaching. It was decided that the event ILLNESS OF PRESIDENT TAYLOR. 399 sliould be celebrated by the hijing of the corner-stone of the Washington Monnment. . General Taylor ac- cepted the invitation to be present withont hesitation, and surprised his friends at the pleasure he evinced at the opportunity. The day was unusually warm and oppressive for Washington City. The procession out to the banks of the Potomac moved slowly, and General Taylor suffered with the intense heat. Upon taking his seat upon the stand, he remarked that he had never before experienced such unpleasant sensations fi^om the sun, much as he had borne its unshielded rays in the swamps of Florida and Mexico. General Foote was the official orator, and Washington Parke Custis took part in the proceedings. It was noticed that Gen. Foote addressed many of his most pointed remarks in praise of Washington to General Taylor. The papers of the day said that " when the orator quoted from a letter of Hamilton to Washington, protesting against his refusing to serve a second term. President Taylor, who sat on the left of the orator, roused fi'om his list- less attitude, as if desirous of catching every word." " Perhaps," added a reporter, " General Taylor was thinking what would be his conduct in a similar emergency." From the celebration the President returned to the White House, and to relieve himself fi'om the terrible thirst the heat had occasioned, in accordance with his primitive tastes, he partook freely of cold water and ft'uit. In less than an hour he was seized with symp- toms of a fearful sickness. The announcement that 400 MARGARET TAYLOR. the President was prostrated by indisposition, strucli the people of Washington with proj)hetic terror, for the news went from house to house, as if presaging the fatal result. General Taylor, after the first parox- ysms were over, seemed to anticipate that he would never recover. He yielded to the solicitations of Lis physicians, and the efforts of his afflicted family to assist him. On tlie evening of tlie third day of his suflerings, he said : " I should not be surprised if this were to termi- nate in death. I did not exj)ect to encounter what has beset me since my elevation to the Presidency. God knows, I have endeavored to fulfil wliat I considered to be an honest duty ; but I have been mistaken, my mo- tives have been misconstrued, and my feelings grossly betrayed." Mrs. Taylor, wlio heard these remarks, for the first time admitted to herself the possibility of her hus- band's death. She then recalled, in the bitterness of her soul, the remark she made when it was announced to her that possibly General Taylor would ])e President : " It was a plot to dej^rive her of his society and shorten his life by unnecessary care and responsibility." This was indeed about to happen, and in the agony of that hour she prostrated herself at her husband's bed- side, while her children clung around her. The sun, on the morning of tlie 9th of July, 1850, rose gloriously over the White House. The Presi- dent's family and Colonel Bliss had remained by his bedside all night, refusing the indulgence of necessary repose. Each houi' it was evident that the catastrophe DEATH OF THE PRESIDENT. 401 was nearer. Mrs. Taylor would not believe that cleatli was possible. He had escaped so many dangers, had been through so much exposure, he could not die sur I'oundpd with so many comforts and loved so intensely by his fanuly and friends. The emotions of apprehen- sions were so oppressive, that opposed nature Avith Mrs. Taylor found relief in fits of insensibility. At tinrty-five minutes past ten, p. m., the President called his family about him, to give them his last earthly advice and bid them his last good-by. No conventional education conld restrain the naturally ex- pressive grief of the members of this afflicted household, and their lieart-rending cries of J^gony reached the sur- rounding street. " I am about to die," said the Presi- dent, firmly, "I expect the smumons soon. I have en- deavored to discharge all ray official duties faithfully. I regret nothing, but that I am about to leave my friends.'' Mrs. Taylor and family occupied the White House until the sad ceremonies of the funeral ended with the removal of the late President's remains. The bustle and the pomp was now painful to her sight and ears, and she realized, in the fearful interval of time, how truly he was dead, who, though the nation's successful Gieneral and a President, was to her only a cherished husband. It can easily be imagined that, as the glit- tering, heartless display of the Executive Mansion com- menced fading away from her sight, that she must have legretfully turned to the peaceful era of her last home at Baton liouge, and the nnpi-etentious cottage, the neglected garden ; and the simple life connected with 402 MARGARET TAYLOR. these associations, must have appeared as a dream of happiness when contrasted with the fearful year and a half of sad experiences in Wasliington. From the time Mrs. Taylor left the White House, she never alluded to her residence there, except as connected with the death of her husband. Accompanied by her daughter, Mrs. Bliss, after leaving Washington, she first sought a home among her relations in Kentucky, but finding it oppressive by per- sonal utterances of sympathy, she retired to the residence of her only son, near Pascagoula, Louisiana, where, in August, 1852, she died, possessed of the same Christian spirit that marked her conduct througliout her 1; e. The sudden and lamented death of M;ijor Bliss soon fol- lowed, and witliont children by her marriage " Miss Betty Taylor," as she must ever be known in history, studiously sought the retirement of j)rivate life, and found it in the accomplished circles of the "old fami- lies of Virginia," with whom she was by ties of blood so numerously connected. By a second marriage, her historical name passed away. But when the traditions and histories of the White House have the I'omance of time thrown around them, Miss Betty Taylor will be recalled to mind, and for her will there be a sym- pathy that is associated with youth, for she was the youngest of the few women of America who have a right to the title of Hostess of the President's House. WII. Ain(!AlL KII.LMOKK I AiuoAii, rowKijH, \\u\ youiiii^csf, oliild of* IjOIIUIcI P()\v(M's, ;i pi'omiiu'iit l?;i])list I'lcrn'ymMH of lliat d.-iy, Av.'is l)()rn in Stillwater, Snnitoi!,";!. (\)unt.y, New York, JMaivIi, IT US. Dr. Powers w;is of M:iss;ic]iusetts tlosciMil, beiiiij; one of the nine thousand six hundred and twenty-four deseeiulanls M' Ili'ury Lehmd, of Sherhiirne, .*ind a eousin and lit'e-loni!; iVieud of tiu; cH'centric and tal- ented .loliu Leland. Thoui^h not a wavdthy man, lio yet possessed a. eonipetence, miuI his prolession was tlio most honored and respeeicd ol' all j)nrsuits. Oidy a sliort decades I'rom tlie martyr memories of JNew l<]iii;'land, and not entirely removed from tlu^ in- lluenccs of that severely reli<:;i(»us section, lie was yet without the stei'uness and rigor usual to individuals holdiuLi: his hii>h ollice. He died while yi^t his daughliu- Avas in her inlaiiey, leaving (o the care of a watchful mother her education and training. Sooji al'terward, Mi'S. Powers, fmding that her in- conu^ would not justify her in liberality ol' expeiuli- ture, determined to renu)vc with her l)i-other and sev- er;d families of relations and friends to a, iVontier st'tt-lemeut, and thus, at the early ag(^ oi' ten, we llnd our little heroine established in Ium- new home in Cayuga Ct)unty. Here began the stei-n lessons which 404 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. ultimately educated tlie picueer cliild, and from this point may be dated the foundation of her noble char- acter, made strong through discipline and spiritualized through sorrow. She was studious and ambitious, and with her mother's assistance, rapidly progressed in knowledge ; her improvement must have been very rapid, for at an early age she assume the duties of a teacher, and for many years continued her chosen avo- cation. Her mother, after the settlement of her fath- er's estate, being greatly reduced in outward circum- stances, was compelled to use the most undeviating industry and economy ; and she, feeling the necessity of relieving her of the burden of her education, began to teach, during the summer months, to pay her winter's tuition. Thus, alternating: between teachino;; and stu- dying, between imparting and receiving instruction, she became a thorough scholar and remarkable woman. There are circumstances of j)overty which throw an interest around those involved in them far greater than the noblest gifts of prosperous fortune could confer. The sight of a young aspiring woman actuated by the loftiest, purest desire implanted by nature, overcoming obstacles, laughing to the winds the remonstrances of weak and timid natures, and mounting, by patient toil and unceasing labor, the rugged hill of wisdom, — is calculated to dignify humanity and render homage to God. Man may at once determine his calling and assei-t his place — woman has hers to seek, and however reso- lute she may appear, with all the dignity she may as- sume, there are hours of fearful despondency, and IIEK PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 405 moments when, in the crowded avenues of trade, the craving for solitude and aloneness absorb the energies of her nature, and still the voice of ambition. Yet the example of this young life is proof that woman's de- pendence is more the result of custom, than the fiat of nature, and the record of her trials and final success is a testimonial of virtue's reward, and energy's omni- potence. Varied as were the experiences of Miss Powers' life, they only served to develop all the latent strength of her body as well as mind ; her singular embodiment of the physical was not less remai'kable than the depth and research of the intellectual. Commanding in person, for she was five feet six hiches in height, of exceeding fairness of complexion and delicacy of features, hers was a harmonious blend- ing of beauty and strength. But she did not j)ossess that mere superficial beauty which cannot retain if it awakens admiration. Hers was no statue-like perfec- t on of figure, nor classically symmetrical face. Gen- uine kindliness of heart beamed through her light, ex- pressive eyes, and her brow was the throne of pure and lofty inspirations. Perhaps, if any one of her features was more universally admired than the others, it was her lio-ht luxuriant hair, which fell in flowing curls CD 7 O round her finely-shaped head. Thus particular in describing her personal appear- ance, a circumstance never to be omitted in sketches of women, I but recognize this fact — that the fiice is the manuscript of the soul, and that the law of uner- ring nature is, the exterior is symbolical of the inner beins;. 406 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. In tlie backwoods of New York State, where tLfi borders of the adjoining county were the limits of civil- ization, accustomed only to the society of the village people, Miss Powers passed the iirst twenty-eight years of her apparently uneventful life, but in reality, the in- tensity of her moral and affectional nature gave breadth and depth to her every-day existence, and in the quiet recesses of her heart she Kved life over more than once. Her occupation as a teacher was continued after her mother's second marriage, which occurred about this time, and henceforth her home was in the family of a much loved relation. It was while in this home that she first met Mr. Fillmore, then a clothier's ap- prentice, and during the winter months a teacher in the village school. His father's unwise choice of a profession for his son but added to his all-absorbino; desire to become a lawyer. But he was not yet twenty, his time was his parents', and his poverty compelled him to serve out his apprenticeship, and, even after he had commenced the study of law, to desire to return to his trade. The assistance of a gentleman who became much interested in the ambitious youth, enabled him to buy his time and devote himself to study. Thus he over- came the adverse circumstances which denied him free- dom of action, and attained for himself leisure to lay the foundation of future usefulness. His subsequent removal to Erie County deprived him of the society of Miss Powers — his now promised wife, and so limited were his means, that for three HER MARRIAGE. 407 years lie was unable to travel a distance of one hundred and fifty miles to see her. In February, 1826, they were married, at the resi dence of her brother, Judge Powers, in Moravia. Erie County was as much a wilderness to the young wife, as Cayuga had been years before, but the obstacles to be overcome were not considered by the affectionate couple, and they started out in their married life buoy- ed by a confidence in their own strength, and a reli- ance on a higher power. Into the small house built by the husband's hands, the wife carried all the ambition and activity of other days, and at once resumed her avocation as a teacher, whilst performing the duties of maid-of-all-work, house- keeper, and hostess. Mr. Fillmore was thus enabled to practise his pro- fession, relieved of all care and responsibility by his thoughtful wife, and so rapid was his progress that in less than two years he was elected a member of the State Legislature. Mrs. Fillmore rendered her husband most efficient help in his struggle for eminence, and was the wings by which he soared so high. Instead of clogging his footsteps by her helplessness, she, with her intellectual strength, relieved and sustained his every effort. So enthusiastic and unchanmno- was her attacliment to him, that no duty was burdensome, no privation suffi- cient to cloud her brow. The strusrorles, those first years, with poverty and increasing cares wei'e fearful, but ber dignity never forsook her — her chosen path never became distasteful. Many are noble from choice, 408 ABi(;rAiL fillmoiie. sLe was so fi'om necessity. The greatness of soul, and devotion to principle inherent in her nature, left no othei- course. A lettei' written in her neat style, now old and worn, has been placed in my hands hy a member of that happy household in which she resided so long. It was addi'essed to one of the sisters, now dead, and cherished by another for the reminiscences it recalls of the beautiful attachment which existed through life between these two friends. "Aurora, 2T^7i August, 1826. "Dear Maria: — Although I have been guilty of breaking my promise to you of writing, and treated you with neglect and indifference, still you are dear and near to me, still you are remembered with that affection which one must feel after being so long an inmate with so kind a girl, one who has bestowed upon ma so many acts of kindness and friendship. No, Maria, I feel that I can never forget your family. My mind often reverts to tlie plea^nt hours I have passed at your house. Many friendly conversations I have had witli your mother after the family had retired to rest, — but those hours are gone never to return, yet llie remembrance of them is sweet. Oh, that I nuiy again have the pleasure of spending a happy evening in your family with the little children sitting near me, asking a thousand interesting questions. Perliajis I may see that time next winter — I hope so. " Would you like to know how I am pleased with the country ? It does not appear to me as pleasant as REMOVAL TO BUFFALO. 409 Cayuga, bnt perhaps it may in time. I enjoy myself as well as I expected to; the inhabitants, as far as 1 am acquainted, appear friendly. I am not yet house- keeping, but am teaching school. But Mr. Dunning will give all these particulars more full}' than I can -vrite on this sheet of paper. You will have a pleasant visit with his sister Emily, I think her an amiable girl. " Maria, if you can forgive me for not writing, I hope you will let me hear from 3'ou by the bearer of this. Write me all the news. You cannot imagine how any little circumstance concerning my friends interests me, when absent so far from them. Ask Olive to write to me if she can find leisure. My best respects to your parents, and affectionate remembrance to your brothers and sisters, and believe me your sincere friend and cousin. "Abigail Fillmore. "Mr. Fillmore wished me to present his respects to yourself and parents. "To Miss Maria Fuller." In the spring of 1830, Mrs. Fillmore removed with her husband to Buffalo. In the enjoyment of her children's societj'-, her husband's prosperity, and the pleasure of entertaining her friends, she found great happiness, and as the years passed by, they were noted only for the peace and contentment they bi'ought her. As her life previous to this time had been spent in comparative seclusion, so now it was a scene of gay society. The social element was very largely develoj)ed in her nature, and constant practice rendered it a 410 ABIGAIL FIJ.L.MORE. marked cLaracteristie. All the associations of her youth liad been those of the conutiy, and in its fre^li ness and beauty, as well as its drearier garb she liad revelled. Now, in her city home she was the same artless, warm-hearted woman of other years, basking in the brightness about her and reflecting upon others her own quiet peace. Well-balanced and self-reliant, affectionate and happy, there was wanting nothing to complete her character. The domestic harmony of her life can be partly appreciated from the I'emark made by her husband after her death. " For twentj^-seven years, my entire married life," he said, '^ I was always greeted with a Jiappy smile." The result of such unusual evenness of disposition was owing, in a great measure, to the tender sympathy and ennobling affectiou of her husband, whose ambition was only gratified when he saw that she was content. With her there was no variation or change, no de- spondency or doubt as to his success in any avocation ; she hovered round his pathway, a beacon, and the light never grew diui. True and faithful in all things, at all times, she ever was; but there was even more of ceaseless vigilance than mere faith implies, where he was concerned. To him who shielded her in her sensitiveness and overHowing affectional natui-e, and, by his gentleness and unremitting watchfulness, guarded every avenue of her heart from sorrow, she meted the wealth of her love, and fondness — and existed in the sunshine of his presence. After her husband's acces- sion to the Presidency, she went to tlie White House ; but the recent death of a sister kept her from entering HER DEATH I^NT WASHINGTON. ~ 411 into the gayety of tlie outer world. As nuK^h as pos siWe she screened herself from public observation, and left to her daughter the duties devolving upon her. Her health had become impaired, and she rather shrank from the necessity of appearing before the world in the position in which she was more than competent to acquit herself. In such a formal routine of life she did not delight; hers was a confiding nature, and to her family she always turned for the happiness the world could not give. But only l>y the most exact details, by endless par- ticularities, breathing out her whole life and giving evidence, by their nature, of the depths from which they spring ; only by such means is it possible, in a degree, to give some perception of her remarkable life — the fountain can only be judged of by the channel througli which it flows. She died at Willard's Hotel, Washington- City, on the 30th of March, 1853. In testimony of respect to the memory of the de- ceased, the public offices were closed, both houses of Congress adjourned, and other marks of respect wei'e adopted. Her remains were conveyed to Buffalo, where, on the 2d of April, they were laid to rest. The accompanying letter, written by a well-kno^vn lady of Buffalo, who was much of the time an inmate^ of the White House during Mrs. Fillmore's stay there, is replete with interest, and gives us an insight into the home life of this noble woman, we could in no other way obtain. " The great interest I feel in your undertaking haa 412 ABIGAIL fill:moke. outweigbed my diffidence and decided me in accord* auce with your request to state briefly some of my re- collectious of the habits and social traits of my hate friend, Mrs. Fillmore, with incidents of life at the White House. " The retiring modesty of manner so inseparable from the idea of a perfect lady, was eminently characteristic of ]\Irs. Fillmore. Although well qualified and, when occasion required, ever ready to act her part in the position which Providence assigned her, she much pre- ferred the quiet of domestic life. Her home was pleasant, and while she was a woman of strong common- sense, her tastes were highly refined. Especially was she fond of music and of flowers. Her love for the former received o-reat 2:ratificatiou from her dauo-hter's musical attainments, and her fondness for flowers amounted to a passion, and much of her time in her own home was devoted to their culture and care. " Mrs. Fillmore read much and carefully, and being possessed of excellent powers of observation, was con- sequently a well-informed and cultivated woman. With qualities like these, it is superfluous to say that, when she was called to preside at the AVhite House, she did it with dignity and proi)riety. She was not strong in health, and had sufl:ered much from a sprained ankle, from which she ne\ er iiilly recovered. Fortu- nately for her, the etiquette of Washington did not require the President and his wife to return visits or to attend parties, though I believe the President did sometimes dine with a cabinet minister. All the claims of society were met and attended to by the "RECOLLEOTTOT^S OF ITER LIFE. 41.*^ dangliter, and liow well slie, a yonng girl just from school, acquitted herself in this trying position, all wil] remember Avho were fortnnate enough to come within the circle of her happy influence. " When Mr. Fillmore entered the White House, he found it entirely destitute of books. Mrs. Fillmore was in tlie habit of spending her leisure hours in read- ing, I might almost say in studying. She was accus- tomed to be surrounded with books of reference, maps, and all the other acquirements of a well-furnished li- brary, and she found it difficult to content herself in a house devoid of such attractions. To meet this want, Mr. Fillmore asked of Congress and received an ap- propriation, and selected a library, devoting to that purpose a large and pleasant room in the second story of the house. Here Mrs. Fillmore surrounded herself Avith her own little home comforts, here her dau<2:hter had her own piano, harp, and guitar, and here Mrs. Fillmore received the informal visits of the friends she loved, and for her the real pleasure and enjoyments of the White House were in this I'oom. With straus^ers she was dignified, quiet, and rather reserved ; but with her friends, she loved to throw aside all restraint and enjoy a good laugh and indulge in a little vein of hu- mor which lay quietly hidden under the calm exterior. " Mrs. Fillmore was proud of her husband's success in life, and desirous that no reasonable expectations of the public should be disappointed. She never ab- sented herself from the public receptions, dinners, or levees when it Avas possible to be present; but her delicate health frequently rendered them not only irk 414 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. some, but very painful, and she soiuetimes kept lier bed all day to ftivor that \^'eak ankle, tliat slie niiglit be able to endure tlie fatigue of tlie two Lours she would be obliged to stand for the Fridciy evening levees. " The President iind Mrs. Fillmore received on Tues- day mornings, fi'om twelve till two o'clock. The levees were on Friday evenings, from eight till ten, and at these there was generally a band of music, but no dancing. Every Thursday evening there was a large dinner party, and frequently another on Saturdays. Then there were often smaller dinners in the family dining-room, which were more sociable and agreeable, as the invitations were usually confined to the personal friends of the family. " But what Mrs. Fillmore most enjoyed was to sur- round herself with a choice selection of congenial friends in her own favorite room — the library, where she could enjoy the music she so much loved, and the conversation of the cultivated society which Washing- ton at that time certainly ^afforded. One of these evenings I remember with more than ordinary pleasure. Mr. Webster was there, and Mr. Corwin, and Mrs. A. H. H. Stuart, of Virginia, Judge Hall and his wife, and possibly some other members of the Cabinet ; Mr. and Mrs. Brooks, of New York, Miss Derby, of Bos- ton, then a guest at the White House, Mr. and Mrs. Carroll, and several others of the distinguished resi- dents of Washin2:ton. Mrs. Brooks' dauo-hter, then quite too young to appear in general society, was there by special request of Mrs. Fillmore, who so enjoyed RECOLLECTIONS CONTITTUED. 415 her wonderfully sweet singing, that she relied upon lier as one of- the attractions for this evening. Miss Fillmore j^layed the piano with much skill and exqui- site taste. Indeed, few ladies excelled her in this ac- complishment ; and this evening she "was particularly successful in her efforts to please. Mrs. Brooks accom- panied her upon the harp, ^vhich instrument she played with much grace. Altogether, the music, the conver- sation, and the company made it an occasion long and pleasantly to be remembered. "One of the events of Mr. Fillmore's first winter in the Executive Mansion was a visit from his father. It was .the first time any President had ever entertained his father in the White House, and Mrs. Fillmoi-e \yas very anxious lest some unlooked-for event might pre- vent this anticipated pleasure. But he arrived in safety one Monday night. Tuesday was reception day. The morning papers announced that the vener- able father of the President arrived in town the even- ino; before. There was an unusual attendance at the reception that day, and it was interesting to watch each person, as they cast their eyes about the room, unable to light upon any one who answered to their idea of the " venerable father of the President," and when they were presented to him, as he stood before them, tall and perfectly erect, and with hair but little whiter than the President's, there was a general expres- sion of surprise. They had evidently expected to see an infirm old man, bent with years and leaning upon a cane, and Mr. Nathaniel Fillmore, at the age of eighty, did not answer to that description. Senaitors 410 AiUCJAll. KILLMOUE. and Judges, and Foi'cign Ministers cauio tliat niornin;:^, all anxious to pay their respcKits to the President/i? father. One gentleman from New York, desii-ous of drawing liim into conversation, said to him, ' Mr. Fill- jnore, you have been so very successful in l^ringing up sons, I wish you would tell me how to raise my little boy.' ' Cradle him in a sap-trough, sir,' said the old gentleman, always ready with an answer. That was an interesting reception, to the President and to all, and wluni it was over, Mr. Fillmore the elder said to me, ' If I had had the power to mark out the path of life for my son, it would never have led to this place, Init I cannot help feeling a kind of pride in it no^v that he is liere.' " The routine of life at the White House which came under my observation, did not vary materially from week to week. The social habits of both Mr. and Mrs. Fillmore were simple and in accordance with those of well-bred people everywhere. Without ostentation or arrogance, they maintained the honor of the high position they were called to occupy, with quiet dignity and ease. "I was not in Washington the winter Mrs. Fillmore died, and therefore know nothing, except from others, of lier illness and death, but I know that she died la- mented by all who knew her well, and leaving behind her many pleasant memories. " Her death was a terrible blow to her family, and to none more than to her daughter, a young lady whose beautiful life and sad death, following so soon upon her retuNi to her own home, made such an indelible im- LINES ON THE OCCASION OF HER BURIAL. 417 pi-ession upon her friends, and for whom all her native city so justly mourned. " The reverence her son had for her memory, proves her to have been a devoted mother, and how tenderly Mr. Filhnore cherished that memory is shown in the sacredness with which he treasures every memento of lier. I have heard him say that he has carefully pre- served every line she ever wrote him, and that he could never destroy even the little notes she sent him on business to his office. " Such aflPectionate regards from the living speak volumes for the dead." Lines on the death of Mrs. Millard Fillmore, by Miss Matilda Stuart, on the occasion of her burial at Forest Lawn, April 2d, 1853. Give room, give room, a friend is here, She comes to tarry with us now, — And though no greeting on her lips, No light of gladness on lier brow, Yet this is home — that hallowed place Where she had fondly longed to rest. Here were her earlier, fresher joys. Here was the hearth-stone love had blest. Though she had moved 'mid stranger scenes, To share the honor and the strife Of him whose life was dearer far Than friend or kindred, home or life, — Though she had tasted pleasure's cup, While it was sparkling to the fill, And seen what few may ever see, Hope's brightest dreams grow brighter still; Yet there were places in her heart Where love could rest and fi-ieiirds an instructive lesson upon tlie use of time to know, that she had perfected her- self in all these stiulicis and accomplishments since her fatlier's accession to the Presidency, and in the leisure moments of a life almost devoted to society. In Washington, the etiquette of the phice and her moth- er's feeble liealth combined to devolve upon her, al- most unaided, the entire performance of the social duties incident to her father's station. She was but a young girl fresh from school; but all admired the self-possession, the tact, and the kindness with which she filled the position allotted to her; and how, young and retired as she was, society in her presence 1) 'caine something more genuine and hearty, as if ashamed of its false mockeries in the light of her sagacious mind and honest heart. "She was eminently social, and latterly her conver- sational powers were of the first order. She had read much; her advantages had been great, and she had reaped their entire fruit. She was a keen but kind ob- server of character, had been familiar with men and 42(5 'MARY ABIGAIL FILLMORE, women of very various ranks and ilescriptions, and she would ]iaint to tlie life tlie very inteiesting events wliich ^Le had witnessed, and the character of the many distinguished persons with whom her fortune had made her acquainted. Full of information and of spirits, more anxious always to listen than to talk, yet never at a loss, even with the dullest, for something pleasant and entertaining to say, with a countenance Learning wit'i honesty and intellect, and with a sweet cordiality of manners which invited at once confidence, affection, and respect. No wonder that wherever she went she became the centre of a circle of friends who loved her most tenderly, and at the same time looked up to her as one of a stronger mind and heart, as a guide and confidante. " She was a genuine tender-hearted woman. Obser- vant of all the forms of elegant life, yet with the most utter contempt for its mere fashions ; kind and atten- tive to all, yet without one point of sympathy with merely worldly peoj)le, she loved her friends with all the afiection of a strong and ardent nature. She never saw or read of a kind or noble deed that her eyes did not fill with tears. " She clung to her old friends without regard to their position in life, and her time and talents seemed devoted to their happiness ; she was thinking constant- ly of some little surprise, some gift, some journey some pleasure, by which she could contribute to the enjoyment of others. ' Blessing she was, God made her so ;' and with her death, with many of her friends is dried up forever the richest fountain of their happi ness. CONCLUSION OF OBITUARY. 427 " She was reserved in the expression of her religious views. As is natural with youthful and independent minds, she had little comparative respect for creeds and forms, perhaps less than she would have mani- fested in maturer years, but her intimate friends knew that she was always governed by a sense of religious duty, that her relations to her Creator and her Savior were the subject of her constant thought, and that she trusted for her future happiness to the kind mercies of a benevolent Father, to the conscientious improvement of all her talents, to a life devoted to deeds of kind- ness, and to a lieart as pure and unspotted as a child's. At home — ah ! that house, all ' emptied of delight,' over whicli she presided with so much dignity and kindness, that forsaken parlor where all the happi- ness that social life can give was wont to be so freely and hospitably enjoyed ; the weeping servants — those bleeding and broken hearts — let these tell what she was at home ! " But she is gone ! and young though she was, she has accomplished much. She has done much to lay the foundation in our midst of a mode of social life more kind, genuine, and cultivated than most of what is called society ; and she has left behind her the exam- ple of her life, which, though most private and retired, will always be a blessing to her friends, and through them, we trust, to a wider circle for many coming years. "Farewell! "Forgive our tears for one removed, Thy creature whom we found so fair, We trust she lives in Tliee, and there Wo find her worlhier to be loved." XIX. JANE APPLETON PIERCE. There are two classes of ladies, of whom tlie bio- grapher is compelled to write, and both are alike interesting. One includes those whose lives have been passed in the sunshine of prosperity and allurements of fashionable society, who have been widely known, and who have mingled with the leading characters of this country. The lives of such women include innuni* erable incidents of public and private interest and are, in fact, necessary to a perfect history of their time. Like the mosaic settings of a piece of century work, or a gallery of portraits of famous personages, which is complete only as it is a reflex of the lives of all who are il his tr ions. The other class is composed of those of whom the world knows little ; whose perfect seclusion even in a public position has given but little evidence of their abilities, and the world, with its eager curiosity, has been but imperfectly apprised of their merits. Such natures, howsoever cultivated and developed, receive but a small portion of that admiration awarded to the first-mentioned class. Their lives are only known to the inmates of their home, and thou^'h cherished there as a beautiful harmony, and their memory as a holy, sealed book, the inquirer after facts and incidents is dismayed with the small amount of material to be gathered from such an existence. Such an one waa HER EARLY ASSOCIATIONS. 429 Mrs. Pierce ; and with feelings of deep regret am I compelled to acknowledge the meagre particulars ob- tained of her life, for the little learned is sufficient incentive to desire a more thorough acquaintance with the history of one so pure and elevated. Of the minute details of her life, I am entirely ignorant, of partial f^icts, but imperfectly informed. Jane Means Appleton was born at Hampton, New Hampshire, March 12th, 1806. She was but one year of age when her father, Kev. Jesse Appleton, D.D., assumed the presidency of Bowdoin College. Reared in an atmosphere of cultivation and refined Christian influences, the delicate child grew in years, unfolding rare mental qualifications, but fragile and drooping in health, developing year by year the most exquisite nervous organization. Naturally inclined to pensive melancholy — the result, partly, of her physical condi- tion, she was from her childhood the victim of intense sensibilities and suftering, and was during her life the unfortunate possessor of an organism, whose every vibration was wonderfully acute and sensitive. The world of suftering locked up in the hearts of such persons it is impossible to estimate ; but happier by far is the day of their deaths than the years of their lives. Blended with a naturally strong mind, Miss Appleton possessed a quick appreciation of the beauti- ful, which in the later years of her life was of priceless value to her own heart. Thrown by her marriage into the political arena, and much in the society of public men of note, she yet soared to a higher theme, and when not incompatible with politeness, discovered to 430 .lANK AIM'LKTON TlKliOK. her company tlie luitiiral olcvation of lior iiatiim Politics, n thome most generally nninterestini^- to \vo« mnn, was peculiarly so to lier, and it was in Iht presence impossihle to sustain a conversation on the suhject. [n 1834, at the ai^'c of twt'nty-eii^'ht, she was married to lion. Franklin Pierce, then of llillshoi'ough, and a member of the lower house of Congress. The match was a pleasing union of kindred natures, and was a source of deep and lasting happiness. Tlio wealth and tendt^rness of Mr. Pierce's nature, appr(H'i- ated to its fnlhvst extent by her, had its reilex in the urbanity and courteonsness with winch his conduct was ever characterized toward others. He is spoken of in a recent publication as the nu>st popular man, personally, in the District of C(.>lnmbia, who ever occupied the position he tilled. To a person organized as was Mrs. Pierce, public observation was extremely painful, and she shrank from it always, preferi-ing the (]uiet of her New Eng- land home to the glare and glitter of fashionable life in Washington. "How well she tilled her station as wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend, those only can tell who knew hei* in these private relations. Tn this quiet sphere she I'ouud her joy, and here her gentle but })owerful inllucnce wfxs deeply and constant- ly Celt, through wise counsels anil delicate suggestions, the purest, fniest tastes anil a devoted lite." '' She was not only ministered to, but ever minister- ing,'' and there is so nmch of the spiritual in her life tiiat iVoni Uulwer we gather a n^tVain most applica- ble to hei'. "The cast of Ium' hcautv was so dream i)i;Arii oi'' iiK.ii si'X'oisrn son, 431 like jiiid y('t. so rMHi^iiii;- ; her tein])or was so littlft mlni^li'd \vitl> I lie eoimnon characteristics of women ; it had so litlh' of caprice, so litMt> of vanity, so uttci' :in absence of .-vll je;iK)nsy and all ;ini;-er ; it was so made n|> o\' tenderness and devotion, and yet so imno-iiiative and fairy-like in its fondness, that it was dilUcnlt to l)t>ar onI\- the s(Mitiments of eartli for one wln^ had so Jittlo of earth's clay/' Tn 18:^8, Mr. Pierce removed from Hillsborough to Concortl, where ho lias since continned to reside. lA)nr years later, he resigned his seat in the Senate to practice^ law, and thereby make provisions for the futui'i*. A btM'cavement, the second of its kind, oc- curred two years later in the loss of his second sou, r'i-;vnk Robert. When President Polk tendered Mr. Pierce the po- sition of Attorney-(u^neral, it was the illness of his wife which divw from him his reply declining it. I le says : " Although the early years oi' my manhood were (h* voted to public life, it wjis never really suited to my taste, T longcnl, as I am sure you must often have (U>ne, tor the cpiiet and independence that belong only to the private citizen, and now, at forty, I feel that de- sire stronger than t^ver. '' Ct>ming so unexpectedly as this (^tVer does, it would be tliiUcult, if not impossible, to arrange the business ot' an extensive practice, between this auvl the lirst of November, in a manner at all satisfactory to myself, or to tliosi^ who have committed their interests to my care, and who rely on my , services. Besides, you know 4o2 JANE APPL1:T0N J'IKKCE. that Mrs. Pierce's health, while at Washington, was very delicate. It is, I fear, even more so now ; and the res})onsibi]ities \vhich the proposed change wonld neces- sarily impose upon hei', oni-ht, probably, in themselves to constitute an insurmountable objection to leaving our quiet home for a public station at Washington.'" Mrs. Pierce was not called upon to leave her pleas- ant home, and for another year she passed her time in tranquil happiness, little dreaming that her conntry would so soon demand the sacrifice of him who thought not of public honors when she was concerned. The declaration of war with Mexico found him ready and willing to serve tlie best interests of his •State and Government, by enlisting as a private soldier in a company raised in Concord. He was subsequently appointed Colonel, and finally Brigadier-General, which position he filled with honor and distinction. He sailed fi'oni Newport, the 2Tth of May, 18-47, and re- mained in Mexico nine months, during which time Mrs. Pierce and her son, continued at their home in Concord. Her health during his absence was not more frail than usual, but anxiety and sus])ense, watching yet fearing to hear of the absent one, kept her from re- gaining or improving her impaired constitution, and of renewing the slender chord by which her life was held. Mrs. Pierce attained, through sorrow, the perfection of many of her most ennobling ti'aits, and in the words of her obituary, "her Christian character was formed and developed undei- the constant presence of infirmities, with frequent heavy trials." VIOLENT DEATH OF HER LAST SUEVlVINa SON. 433 The mother of three chiklren, none survived her, and the death of the last, under circumstances so pe- culiar, shattered the small remnant of remaining health, and left her mother's heart forever desolate. On the 5th of January, previous to the inauguration of Mr. Pierce as President, an accident occurred on tlie Boston & Mtiine Railroad, which resulted in a great calamity ; among the passengers were the President elect, his wife, and only son, a bright boy of thirteen years. The family were on their I'eturn to Concord from Bos- ton, and it was between Andover and Lawrenoe that the axle of one of the passenger-cars broke, and the cars were precipitated down a steep embankment. Mr. Pierce, sitting beside his wife, felt the unsteady move- ments of the train and instantly divined the cause. Across the seat from them sat their son, who but a mo- ment ago was amusing them with his conversation. A crash, a bounding motion as the cars were thrown over and over down the hill, and men began to recover from their fright and assist in aiding those injured in the fearful accident. Mr. Pierce, though much bruised, succeeded in extricating his wife from the ruins, and bearing her to a place of safety, returned to hunt his bo}'. He was soon found ; his young head crushed and confined under a beam, his little body still in death. Even now it is a subject too painful to dwell upon. What must have been the feelings of those grief-stricken parents, in a moment bereft of their all ! The remains were conveyed to Andover until ar* rangements could be made for their removal to Con cord. 434 JANE APPLETON PIERCE. Under such a bereavement, in feeble health and exhausted vitality, came Mrs. Pierce to the White House. « Through the season, before her great trial was sent upon her, she had been nerving herself for the unde- sired duties and responsibilities of her public station at Washington ; and with the burden of that crushing soiTow she went forward, with the noblest self-sacrifice, to do what was to be done, as well as to bear what was to be borne. That she performed her task nobly and sustained the dignity of her husband, the folloAving letter will prove. " My Dear Madam : I learn that Prof Aiken's notice of Mrs. Pierce, that appeared in the Observer, has been sent to you, and I pi'esume it does not con- tain information on all the points you desired to reach particularly. Hence this note. The idea has some- how gone out that Mrs. Pierce did not participate in the receptions and entertainments at the White House. Mr. Gobright, in his book recently published, ' Recol- lections of Men and Things at Washington,' makes the statement that Mrs. Pierce did not, until the close of the administration of President Pierce, appear at the receptions. This is an inexcusable blunder, for Mr. Gobright was here on the spot, and should have known better. The fact is, Mrs. Pierce seldom omitted attendance upon the public receptions of the Presi- dent. She was punctually present also at her own Friday receptions, although at times suffering greatly. HOSTESS OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSIOIsr, 435 Often in tlie evening of the President's levee, slie would allow herself to be conducted into the Blue Room, and there remain all the evening: receivino:, with that quiet ease and dignity that characterized her always : a duty which few ladies, indeed, would have had the courage to perform in her then delicate state of health. She presided, too, with the President at the State dinners, as well as those of a more social character, anvd certainly never before or since, was more hospitality dispensed by any occupant of the White House, The most agreeable memories of Mrs. Pierce at the Presidential Mansion, and such only, are re- tained and cherished in this city. The days of that period when a quiet and dignified but heai'ty hospi- tality signalized the Executive Mansion, and the pro- tection of the Constitution, which diffused a sense of all-pervading security, were indeed the bright days of the Republic. This is the view of our own people, and who are better judges than they who have seen so many Administrations here ? " Every one knew and respected the enfeebled con- dition of Mrs. Pierce's health, and felt that the sad event which happened only a short time before she came to Washington, on that fatal railroad train, might have shattered a much hardier constitution than was .hers, and at least have unfitted her, physically as well as mentally, to discharge the duties of the Lady of the White House. Yet she suppressed her inward grief before the public eye, and overcame her debility in deference to what she believed to be her dut} toward he-r distinguished husband's exalted position. Those 430 JANE APPLETON PIEPvCE. wlio knew Mrs. Pierce well at this time eulogized her heroism. " No lady of the White House left more warm friends in Washington among our best people, and sho had not a single enemy. What I have written above, you are at liberty, madam, to use (if you deem it worthy) in your forthcoming work. It has the merit at least of being the testimony of ' one who knows.' I give it in order that the grievously wi^ong state- ments in Mr. Gobright's work, concerning Mrs. Pierce, may be corrected, and the error exposed before it passes into history. " I am, my dear madam, with the highest considera- tion, your most obedient servant, "J. D. Hoover. " It is no disparagement to others who have occu- pied her station at the White House, to claim for her an unsurpassed dignity and grace, delicacy and purity, in all that pertains to public life. There was a home, a Christian home, quietly and constantly maintained, and very many hearts rejoiced in its blessings." Mrs. Pierce was always extremely delicate, and was reduced to a mere shadow after the loss of her son. I have heard a gentleman say, who was a mem- ber of Mr. Pierce's family at the time, that " it was with the utmost diificulty she could endure the fatigue of standing during a reception, or sitting the tedious hours of a dinner party," and her courage must have been all-powerful to have sustained her under the most uncongenial of all things to an invalid — the TOUR TO ISLAND OF MADEIRA. 437 presence of comparative, and in many cases entire, strangers. Her pious scruples regarding the keeping of the Sabbatli were a marked attribute of lier life. Each Sunday morning of her four years' stay in the White House, she would request, in her gentle, con- ciliatory way, all the attaches of the Mansion to go to church, and on their return, would make pleasant in- quiries of what they had heard, &c. " Many a time," remarked Mr. Webster, the Private Secretary, " have I gone from respect to her, when, if left to my own choice, I should have remained in the house." In her unobtrusive way, ever thoughtful of the happiness of those about lier, she diverted their minds to the ele- vated and sjjiritual, and sought, in her own life, to be a guide for the young with whom she was thrown. How rare are these exquisite organizations, and how little do we know of them, even though they have lived in our midst, and formed a part of us ! Awhile they linger here to learn the way to brighter spheres, and when they vanish, naught is left but a memory fragrant with the rich perfume of a beautiful, unself ish life. In the autumn of 1857, Mrs. Pierce, accompanied by her husband, left the United States on the steamer " Powhatan " for the island of Madeira, and passed six months in that delightful place. The following eigh- teen months were spent in Portugal, Spain, France, Switzerland, Italy, Germany, and England. Of her appreciation of this lengthy sojourn in the most his- toric and renowned countries of the old world, we have no evidence save in the supposition, how one of her 438 JANE ArrLETON PIERCE. line nervous nature must liave enjoyed tlie bygone splendors of Spain, tlie ever-ranging panorama of lux- urious Paris, and the snow-capped mountains of Italy and Switzerland, of tlie Alps, of Mont Blanc, and the tamer scenery of German towns and cities ! Would that it were possible to present even one of her letters to the American public who have ever evinced their regard and admiration for Mrs. Pierce, through the sym- pathy extended to her now desolate husband. But that repugnance to publicity, so characteristic in life, is respected now by the few of her family who have survived her, and the painful recollections of what she suffered, are as yet too fresh in the minds of her friends to desire them to be recalled. From a member of her family, who has very kindly replied to several inquires, I have gained all the infor- mation contained in this brief sketch. He will pardon me, if I quote from his last letter these few lines. " If your attention has been called to the obituary notice of Mrs. Pierce, published in the Boston Record- er, of January 8th, 1864, and reproduced in the New York Observer within two or three weeks of that date, you may have been impressed with the sentences, ' She shrank with extreme sensitiveness from public obser- vation.' I cannot help being influenced by that very controlling trait of her character, and this, I am sure, is true of all her relatives. Hence, and indeed, in consult- ing our own tastes, we were thoroughly satisfied with the sketch from the hand of one who knew her inti- mately, from his early manhood, and loved her welL "Mrs. Pierce's life, as far as she could make it so, was HER DEATH AT ANDOVER. 430 one of retirement, Slie very rarely participated in gay amusements, and never enjoyed what is sometimes called fashionable society. Her natural endowments were of a liigli order, recognized by all persons with whom she ^v'as, to any considerable extent, associated. She inherited a judgment singularly clear and correct, and a taste almost unerring. She was carefully and thoroughly educated, and moved all her life, prior to her marriage, very quietly in a circle of relatives and intimate friends of rare culture and refinement." « * * * -X- * On the 2d of December, 1863, at Andover, Massa- chusetts, she died. Many of her kindred and all her children had gone before her, and she was ready to join them. But she was patient, and had " learned to wait, with growing confidence and love for the revealing of her Heavenly Father's will." Among her last words was the familiar line, " Other refuge liave I none," repeated with all the emphasis of which she was then capable. Now she has reached that refuge. On the. 5th of December, she was buried by the side of her children in the cemetery at Concord, New Hampshire, " Her husband moves on in life's journey alone. What this means to him, will be in a measure under- stood by those who know the wealth and tenderness of his affections, the peerless devotion with which he has lived, especially since his release from public du 4-10 JANE ArPLETON" PIEROE. ties, and lier wortliiiiess to be the object of such n \ovq aud service." '-'' Those who knew her will be ghui, glad just in jn-o- portion to the intimacy of tlieir acquaintance with her, to be reminded of the qualities in whicli they found so much delio'ht. To otliers who have onlv known of her, and that mainly in connection with lier sorrows, it will be just to present very briefly other aspects of her life. Her fine natural endowments "were developed by a careful and generous culture, not merely under the forms of education, but tlu-ough tlie agency 6f all the examples and influences of her early home and tlie circle of related families. No one knew better how to make tributary all the experience of life. All her in- stincts and choices drew her toward, and attracted to- ward her, whatever was refining and elevating. Her tastes were of exceeding delicacy and purity. Her eye apju-eciated, in a remarkable degrees, whatever was beau- tiful in nature and art. During the last )^ears of her invalid lite, she found" not merely physical relief, but the deepest gratification in foreign travel, and in resi- dence near her own New England mountains and sea- shore. This contact with nature's freshness and variety and beauty often renewed lierstrength when the minis- tries of human affection and skill w^ere alike powerless. The folloAving touching tribute was written by a friend whose affection for Mrs. Pierce kno^vs no change. He sent it carefully w^ra])ped in many covers to pro- tect it. Oft used and much worn as it is, he prizes the pa])er, from tlu^ associations clustered with its appear- * Mr. Pierce diwl Uic Sth of October, 18G9. A TUTIUITK TO llEU ]\lEMOKY. 441 ance, and tlie circumstauces imder wliicli it was written Its beauty is its truth and simplicity. " The distinctions of eai'th fade away in the pres- ence of death ; l)ut the memory of de])arted excellence comes forth fresh and perennial from the very j^jortals of the grave. "To-day this paper records the lamented decease of one who has filled the highest station in the land with dignity and propriety unsurpassed, and who has adorned private life with every estimable quality which could become a true Christian gentlewoman. " The many who have esteemed and respected her throughout life will deeply deplore her loss, and will sincerely sympathize with him who has been thus called to submit to one of the severest of human afflic- tions. "His beloved companion has passed through great sufferings, bearing always Avith him the memory of a creat irrief : and she has doid)tless ejone to that rest which we know * remaineth foi- the people of God.' " XX. HARRIET LANE. The name of Harriet Lane is so nearly associated with the latest and most illustrious years of her uncle, James Buchanan, that it is quite impossible to write a life of the one, in which the other shall not fill some space. Of all his kindred she was the closest to him. Given to his care when she was scarcely past infancy, she took the place of a child in his lonely heart, and when she reached womanhood, she repaid his affection by minis- tering, with rare tact and grace, abroad and at home, in public life and in private, over a household which would otherwise have been the cheerless abode of an old bachelor. The sketch of her history which we propose to give will, therefore, necessarily involve many recollections of the great ex-President, dead so recently that we can hardly realize that he is gone. HaiTiet Lane is of Pennsylvania blood, of English ancestry, on the side of her father, and Scotch-Irish on that of her mother. Her grandfather, James Bu- chanan, emigrated to America from the north of L-eland, in the year 1783, and settled near Mercers- bui-g, in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. In the year 1788, lie married Elizabeth Speer, the daughter of a substantial farmer, a woman of strong intellect and deep piety. The eldest child of this marriage was James, the late ex-President. He spoke uniformly '^Igr-avBd bjr J.CBattre ./^<=^-^-^^^^ 0^ ^^'^^:^^ /^j -^r^* ^^f^^^::^ EAKLIEE YEAES. 443 witli tlie deepest reverence of l)ot]i his father aud inothei*, and took delight in ascribing to the teachings of that good woman, all the success that he had won in this world. Jane Buchanan, the next child after James, his })laymate in youth, his favorite sister through life, known as tke most sprightly and agreeable member of a family all gifted, was married, in the year 1813, to Elliot T. Lane, a merchant largely engaged in the lu- crative trade at that time carried on between the east and the west, by the great highway that passed through Franklin County. In this trade, James Buchanan the elder had accumulated his fortune, and on the mar- riage of his daughter with Mr. Lane, mucli of his busi- ness passed into the hands of the latter. Mr. Lane was descended from an old and aristo- cratic English family, who had settled in Virginia dur- ing the Revolution, and he was connected with some of the best names of this land. His business talents were well known and trusted, and all who enjoyed his ac- quaintance, testify to the uncommon amiability of his disposition. Harriet, the youngest child of Elliot T. Lane and Jane Buchanan, spent the first years of her life in the picturesque village of Mercersburg, in the midst of a society distinguished for its intelligence and refine- ment. She inherited the vivacity of her mother, was a mischievous child, overflowing with health and good humor. Her uncle James, then in the prime of life, and already an illustrious man, paid frequent visits to 44-i HARRIET LANE. Lis birtb-pliice, and tlio impression wliioli his august presence and charming talk made upon little Harriet, was deep and lasting. She conceived an affection and reverence for him which knew no abatement till the hour of his death. Her mother died when she Avas bnt seven yeara old, and her father survived but two yeai-s longer. She was left well provided with money, and with a lai-ge family connection, but at his solicitation, she ac- cepted as a home the house of her nncle James, and sought his guardianship in preference to that of any of her other relatives. Although Mr. Buchanan was not particularly fond of children, he was attracted toward this frank and handsome clxild from her earliest infancy. Her ex- uberant spirits, love of mischief, and wild pranks, called forth from him daily lectures and severe re- bukes, but his acquaintances all knew that he was well pleased to have been singled out by the noble and affectionate girl as her guide, phik^sopher, and friend. No doubt that even at that early age, he i-ec- ognized in her a kindred spirit, and his good angel whispered to him that the boisterous child, wlio some- times disturbed his studies, and mimicked his best friends, would one day be to him a fit adviser in diffi- culty, a sympathetic companion in sori'ow, the light and ornament of his public life, and the comfort, at last, of his lonely hearth. Mr. Buchanan was reticent in speaking the praises, however well deserved, oC his near i-elatives, ])ut lie ANECDOTE TOLD OF HER. 445 has been known, especially of Late years, to dwell with a delight he could not conceal, upon the admirable qualities displayed by Miss Lane in childhood. Said he, "She never told a lie. She had a soul above de- ceit or fraud. She was too proud for it.'" During the earliest years of Miss Lane's residence with her uncle, in Lancaster, she attended a day-school there, and, thougli she evinced much more than the usual aptitude for stud}', she was chiefly distinguished as a fun-loving, trick-playing romp, and a wilful do- mestic outlaw. There was one anecdote her uncle liked to tell of her, as an evidence of her independent spirit and her kind heart. When she was about eleven years old, she was well grown and, indeed, mature looking for her age. Unlike most young ladies at that ambitious period of life, she was entirely unconscious of her bud- ding charms, never dreaming that men must pause to wonder at and admire her, and that her actions were no longer unimportant as those of a chihl. One day IMr. Buchanan was shocked upon beholding from his window Miss Harriet, with flushed cheek and hat awr}^, trundling along, in great haste, a wheelbarrow full of wood. Upon his rushing out to inquire into the cause of such an unseemly and undignifled proceed- ing, she answered in some confusion, that she was just on her way to old black Aunt Tabitha, with a load of wood, because it was so cold. In administering the reproof that followed, Mr. Buchanan took good care that she should not see the •ii<> HARRIET LANE. amused and gratified smile witli wliicli be turned away from the generous culprit. About tills time, her uncle executed a threat which he had long held suspended over Harriet. Tins was to place her under the tender care of a couple of eld- erly maidens of the place — ladies famous for their strict sense of propriety and their mean domestic econ- omy — just such rule as our high-spirited young lady would chafe under. She liad never believed her uncle to be in earnest about the matter, and her horror at finding herself duly installed in this pious household, under the surveillance of these old damsels, must have been comical enough to Mr. Buchanan, who was never blind to the funny side of any thing. He was in the Senate at the time, and she was in the habit of pour- ing out her soul to him in childish letters that com- plained of early hours, brown sugar in tea, restrictions in dress, stiif necks, and cold hearts. The winter passed slowly away, only solaced by the regular arri- val of fatherly letters from her uncle, or by an occa- sional fi-olic out of doors — to say nothing of pockets- ful of crackers and rock-candy, with which the appe- tite of the young woman was appeased, her simple fare being, if not scanty, unsuited to the tastes of one who had sat at Mr. Buchanan's table. The next autumn, when she was twelve years old, she was sent with hei- sister, a lovely girl but a few years Harriet's senior, to a school in Charlestown, Va. Here they remained three years. Harriet was not a student, but she knew her lessons because it was AT GEORGETOWN COTSTVENT. 447 rio troul)le for her to learn them. She was excessively fond of music, and made great progress in it. Her vacations were spent with Mr. Buchanan ; but the great event of those three years was a visit with him to Bedford Springs. It was a glorious time, which even now the woman of the world looks back upon with her own bright smile of pleasui-e. She was next sent to the convent at Georgetown — a school justly celebrated for the elegant women who have been educated there. Miss Lane went over to Washington every month, and spent Saturday and Sunday with her uncle, then Secretary of State. These visits were, of course, delightful. Without seeing any gay society, she always met at Mr. Buchanan's house such men as few young girls could appreciate, and listened to such conversation as would improve the taste of any one. Miss Lane at once became a great favorite with the sisters, who constantly expressed the highest opinion of her talents and her principles. Before Mr. Buchanan had decided to send her to the convent, he had asked, "Do you think you would become a Roman Catholic?" She was anxious to go, but she answered, " I can't promise ; I don't know enough about their faith." " Well," said he, " if you are a good Catholic, I will be satisfied." She did not change her religious opinions, but her intercourse with the good sisters has always made her respect the old church, and has taught her sympathy and charity for all God's people. t4o IIAliPJET LANE. Here sue became very pi-oficient in music, an accom- plishment whicli, unfortunately for her friends, she liaa much neglected, owing to her constant engagements in social life and her disinclination for display in her public position. The nuns were anxious to have her learn to play upon the harp, not only on account of her musical taste, but because of her graceful person and exquisite hand. For some reason, however, she never took lessons upon that beautiful instrument, so well calcu- lated to display the charms of a graceful woman. Her uncle once asked in a letter what were her favorite studies. She answered, " History, astronomy, and especially mythology." Mr. Buchanan did not forget this avowed preference, and in after-years grati- fied his natural disposition to quiz those of whom he was fond, by appealing to his niece as authority on mythological questions, in the presence of company before whom she would have preferred to be silent. Miss Lane was exceedingly quick and bright. She never applied her whole mind to study except the last of the two years she spent at Georgetown. The result of that effort was that she won golden opinions and graduated with great honor. She left the school, loved and regretted by the sisters, with some of whom she has been on terms of close friendship ever since. They always speak of her with pride, and have followed her career with an interest they seldom evince in any thing outside their sphere of seclusion and quiet. At this time, Miss Lane's proportions were of the most perfect womanliness. Tall enough to be com- PERSONAL APPEARANCE. i40 mantling, yet not higli cnongb to attract observation — liroposed was on account of estraordinaiy military or naval services, the proper reference would 1,e to the military or naval committee. Under all these circuiu- stances, the committee have no alternative but to re- poi-t against the passage of the general resolutions " XXIL ELIZA McCARDLE JOHNSOK. In the autumn of 1824, the term of a fatlierlesg boy's apprenticeship expired, and he entered the world rich only in energy, and a noble ambition to provide for a widowed mother. But he was sensitive and anxious to enlarge his facilities for an education, and his strong mind grasped and analyzed the fact that to succeed he must form new ties, and find a broader field of action. Tennessee was the land of promise which attracted his attention, and, accompanied by his mother, who justly deserved the aifection he bestowed upon her, he reached Greenville in 1826. Young, aspiring, and ambitious, he was not long in making friends, and among them a beautiful girl evinced her appreciation of his character, by becoming his wife. Eliza McCardle was the only daughter of a widow, whose father had been dead many years, and v/liose life had been spent in her mountain home. When she was married, she had just reached her seven- teenth year, and her husband was not yet twenty-one. Education in those days did not comprehend and embrace the scientific accomplishments it does now, but a naturally gifted mind, endowed with much common «euse, received a broad basis for future development. She was well versed in the usual branches of instruc- tiLii, and possessed, in an extraordinary degree, that •^"'rj MmSoJ^J?IE)IEIE>^^ jr(D)ISIMS?(D)M. HEE ASSISTANCE TO HER HUSBAND. 491 beauty of face and form which i-endered her mother one of the most beautiful of women. It is a mistiiken idea that she tau2"ht her husband his letters ; for in the dim shadows of the workshop at Raleigh, after the toil of the day was complete, he had mastered the alphabet and made himself generally ac- quainted with the construction of words and sentences. The incentive to acquire mental attainment was cer- tainly enhanced when he felt the superiority of her ac- quirements, and fi'om that time his heroic nature began to discover itself. In the silent watches of the night, while sleep rested upon the village, the youthful couple studied together ; she ofttimes reading as he completed the weary task before him, oftener still bending over him to guide his hand in writing. He never had the benefit of one day's school rou- tine in his life, jet he acquired by perseverance the benefits denied by j^overty. What a contemplation it must have been to those mothers who watched over their children as they struggled together ! Let time in its flight transport us back thirty years, and see what a scene was being then enacted there. In that obscure village in the mountains, three strong, yet tender- hearted women watched over and cherished the bud- ding genius of the future statesman. History, in pre- serving its record of the life and services of the seven- teenth President of the United States, rears to them a noble tribute of their faithfulness. Thirty years ago, the young wife, thrifty and indus- trious all day, worked patiently and hopefully as night brought her pupil again to his studies, and punctually 492 ELIZA m'oAKDLE JOHNSON. completed her womanly duties, tliat she might be ready for the never- varying rule of their lives. Much of latent powers does he owe to her indefatigable zeal and encouragement, and he cannot forget those evening hours, years ago, when the mighty scintillations of na- tural genius first began to dawn, which ultimately con- verted the tailor boy into tlie Senator, and subsequently into the President of his country. Year after year she has watched him, as he has risen step by step, and is with him now, willing and earnest as when in life's bright morn they were mar- ried. The later years of Mrs. Johnson's life have been crowned with the honors lier husband's successes have won, but her younger days are fraught with most in- terest to all who can appreciate true woi'th and genuine greatness of soul. In her girlhood, she was the purest type of a south- ern beauty, and like her mother, was very graceful and agreeable in her manners. I have beard persons say her mother was the handsomest lady in all that region of country, and her old neighbors stoutly maintain that Mrs. Johnson is the image of her. Her extreme modesty denies the imputation that she was the belle of the county. While their means increased as time passed, and the caroling of their little children gladdened their home, Ml. Johnson received his first substantial proof of the confidence of the community in which he lived, in his election as "alderman." How intense must have been the joy of the good wife as she saw her pupil progress- ing in a career he was so well fitted to occupy ! HER HOME LIFE. 493 At this time, their residence was situated on a hill, just out of Greenville, simple and plain in its surround- ings, yet the resort of the youug people of the village. The college boys, as they passed to and fro on errands, always stopped to enjoy a chat with their " Demosthe- nes," and were ever welcomed by the genial, frank manners of the gentle wife. Fresh laurels crowned the alderman's brow when he was chosen Mayor, and for three terms he filled the position with credit, winning for himself an enviable rQf)utation for honest deeds and correct principles. Little has been written of Mrs. Johnson, mainly from the fact that she always opposed any publicity being given to her private life, and from the reluctance of her friends to pain her by acceding to the oft-re- peated requests of persons for sketches of herself. In a conversation not long since, with her, she remarked "that her life had been spent at home, caring for her children, and practising the economy rendered neces- sary by her husband's small fortune." An impartial writer cannot be swayed by such na- tural and creditable sentiments, nor is it just that a woman who has been the means of advancing her hus- band's interests so materially, and occupying the posi- tion she does, should be silently passed by. She de- serves, as she receives, from all who are fortunate enough to know her, the highest encomiums ; for by her unwearying efforts she has been a stepping-stone to her husband's honors. Patient and forbearing, she is uni- versally liked, and if she has an enemy, it is from no fault of liers, noi* does she number any among the ac- quaintances of a lifetime. 49 -i ELIZA m'cAKDLE JOHNSOlSr. Like Mr. Johnson, she has very few living rela^ tives; her children having neither aunts nor uncles, and years ago deprived of both grandmothers. Mrs. Johnson's mother died in April, 1854, and his parent lived until Februaiy, 1856 ; each having been the ob- ject of his tenderest care, and living to see him hold- ing the highest position his native State could bestow. There was not two years' difference in the deaths of these two mothers, and it is the unspeakable happiness of their children to know that as the wick burned low, and the lamp of time went out, all that peace aiid plenty could devise for their happiness they received, and their departure from earth was rendered calmly serene b}^ the assurance that their work was well done and finished. When the civil war, which snapped the cords of so many old persons' lives and hurried them to premature graves, sounded its dread tocsin through East Tennes- see, it was a source of mournful satisfaction to know that those two aged mothers lay unconscious of the ap- proaching conflict which was to bathe that section of the State in blood. The tall grass grew unharmed, and no impious hand desecrated the resting place of de- parted virtue. During the meetings of the Legislature to which Mr. Johnson was repeatedly called, Mrs. Johnson re- mained at Greenville ; and while he sought honors and support away from home, she found compensation for his pi'olonged absence in the knowledge that she best })romoted his interest when she lived within their still slender means. Her children received the benefit of HER RESIDENCE IIST aREET^^VILLE. 495 her ripe, matured experience, until one by one they left their home ; two to many and dwell near her, and tl^e youngest to be a comfort in her days of suffering. Her home in Greenville was thus desci'ibed in 1865: " Just down there, at the base of this hill, stands a small brick building with a back porch, and around it the necessary fixtures. It stands on the corner of the square, near where the mill-i-ace passes under the street on its way down to the little mill. That is the first house Andrew Johnson ever owned. It now belongs to another person. Almost directly opposite the mill, whose large wheel is still moving, but whose motion is scarcely perceptible, you will see a rather humble, old-fashioned looking, two-story brick house, standing near the south end of Main street. It has but one entrance from the street. In front of it stand three or four small shade-trees. The fences of the lot and windows of the house show evident signs of dilapi- dation, the consequences of rebellion and of rebel rule. Like many other windows in the South, a numbei' of panes of glass are broken out and their places supplied with paper. Glass could not be obtained in the Con federacy. As you pass along the pavement on Main street, by looking into the lot you will see several young apple-trees, and in the spaces between two of them are potatoes growing. In the rear of the kitch- en stands a small aspen shade-tree, and down there in the lower end of the lot is a gi-ape-vine trained upon a trellis, forming a pleasant bower. Scattered over the lot are a number of rose, currant, and gooseberry bushes. At the lower end of the lot, and just outside, 496 ELIZA m'cardle joiiisrsoisr. stand two large weeping willows, and under their shade is a very beautiful spring. This is the residence of Andrew Johnson, President of the United Stat^ Uj) the street stands his former tailor shop, with the old sign still on it. And in an old store-room up the street are the remains of his library. At present, it con- sists principally of law books and public documents, most of his valuable books having been destroyed by the rebel soldiers." In the spring of " '61," Mrs. Johnson spent two months in Washington with her husband, then a Senator, but failing health compelled her early return to Ten- nessee. Long and stormy were the seasons which passed before she again met Mr. Johnson, and how changed were all things when they resumed the broken thread of separation, after an interval of nearly two years ! At her home quietly attending to the duties of life, and cheered by the frequent visits of her children, she was startled one bright morning by the following sum- mons : " HEADQrAETEE8 DePAETMENT OF EaST TENNESSEE, ) " Office Peovost Maeshal, April 24th, 1862. ) " Mrs. Andrew Johnsot^, Greenville, "Dear Madam: — By Major-General E. Kirby Smith I am directed to respectfully require that you and your family pass beyond the Confederate States' line (through Nashville, if you please) in thirty-six hours from this date. " Passports will be granted you at this office. " Very respectfully, " W. M. Chukchwell, '' Colonel and Provost Marshal." HER TRIALS DURING THE WAR, 497 This v/as an impossiljility, hoth on account of ber very poor health, and the unsettled state of her affairs. Nor did she know where to go; rumors reached her of the murder of Mr. Johnson in Kentucky, and again at Nashville; then again she would hear that he lad not left Washington. She knew not what to do, and accordingly wi-ote to the authorities for more time to decide on some definite plan. The military movements delayed the execution of the next order sent her, and the continued illness of Mrs. Johnson distressed her children, who knew that a change of residence would sooner or later become necessary. All the summer she remained in Greenville, occasionally visiting her daughters, and hoping daily to hear of her husband. September came, and knowing she would be compelled to leave East Tennessee, she applied to the authorities for permission to cross the lines, accompanied by her children and her son-in-law Mr. Stover. ' ' Finally, after numerous endeavors, the cavalcade set out. A few miles out from town they were ovei'taken by an order to return. Reaching Murfreesboro, exhausted and weary from the long trip, the little band were told they could not go through the lines. The Confederate troops occu- pied this once beautiful town, and no accommo- dations were to be obtained. Wandering from one house to another after the long walk from the depot, in the night-time, without food or shelter, Mrs. Johnson and her children despaired of securing any more invit- ing abode than the depot, and that was a long dis- 498 ELIZA m'cAKDLE JOHNSON. tance from the centre of tLe town. As a last resoi't, a woman was requested to sliare her home with the tired refugees, and she consented with the undei'staneling that in the morning they would depart. Next day they returned to Tullahoma, l)ut on arriving there I'e- ceived a telegram to retrace their steps, as arrangements had been made for their passage through to Nashville. A former friend of the family obtained this favor for them, and, nothing daunted, night again found the same band at Murfreesboro. No effort was made to secure lodgings, all preferring to stay on the cars, rather than undertake the expe- riences of the previous night. The eating-house near by was vacant, and into this Colonel Stover conducted the tired party. Without fire or food, or any kind of beds or seats, they determined to stay as best they could ; and but for the thought- ful, motherly care of Mr,^. Johnson, it would have been a night of horrors. She had provided herself with candles and matches before starting, and the remnants of an old lunch satisfied the hunger of the little ones, and rendered less cheerless their lonel}^ abode. Thus, from one trouble to another, subject to the commands of military rulers, liable to be an'ested for the slightest offence, and ofttimes insidted by the rab- ble, Mrs. Johnson and her children performed the perilous journey from Greenville to Nashville. Few who were not actual participators in the civil war can form an estimate of the trials of this noble woman. Invalid as she was, she yet endured exposure and anx- iety, and passed through the extended lines of hostile TIER ARRIVAL AT NASHVILLE. 409 armieSj never uttering a hasty word or by lier looks be* traying in tlie least degree her harrowed feelings. Wherever she passed, she won kind words and herirty pravers for a safe journey, and is remembered by friend and foe as a lady of benign countenance and sweet, winning manners. The following day Mrs. Johnson received the fol lowing note : "MuRFEEEBBORO, Octobcr 12tli, 18G2. " Mrs. Andrew Johnson : Gen'l Forrest sends a flag of truce to JSTashville to-morrow morning, and he wishes you and your party to make your arrangements to go down with, the flag, at seven o'clock a.m. to- morrow. " The General regrets that he has no transportation for you ; he will send a two-horse wagon to carry your baggage, &c. By remaining until to-morrow, you can go the direct route to Nashville ; by going previous to that time, the route would be necessarily circuitous. " Respectfully, "IsHAJi G. Harris." A diary kept by a citizen of Nashville at this time, contains the following : " Quite a sensation has been produced by the arrival in Nashville of Governor Johnson's family, after incurring and escaping numerous perils while making their exodus from East Tennessee. The male members of the familv were in dana:er of beinc; liuno- on more than one occasion. They left Bristol, in the extrerne 500 ELIZA m'cakdle JOIIlSrSON^. northeastern section of the State, on the Virginia line, by permission of the Rebel War Department, accom- panied by a small escort. Wherever it became known on the railroad route that Andrew Johnson's family were on the train, the impertinent curiosity of some rebels was only equalled by the clamor of others for some physical demonstration on Johnson's sons. Ai'iiving at Murfreesboro, they were met by General Forrest and his force. Forrest refused to allow them to pro- ceed, and they were detained some time, until Isham G. Harris and Andrew Ewing, noted rebels, telegraphed to Richmond and obtained peremptory orders allowing them to proceed. The great joy at the reunion of this long and sorrowfully separated family may be imagin- ed. I will not attempt to describe it. Even the Gov- ernor's Roman firmness was overcome, and he wept tears of thankfulness at this merciful deliverance of his be- loved ones from the hands of their unpitying per- secutors." Nashville and comparative quiet were at last reach- ed, and the long separated family hoped their trials were over. Mrs. Johnson had exhausted her streno;th, and for many months kept her room, too feeble to ven- ture out. But her little grandchildren enjoyed the freedom of play once more, and their haj)py faces are remembered by sti'angers and friends who watched them in their gambols about the capital. But all missed the pleasant companionship of their little cousins, and longed to have " Belle " and " Andrew," to share their sports. By-and-by Mrs. Patterson joined the family in the DEATH OF HER OLDEST SON. 501 safe asylum tliey had found in Nashville, and young and old were happy in the reunion. But trouble, never far from Mrs. Johnson, came very near in the cruel death of her eldest son. Not long after receiving his diploma as physician, he was appointed a surgeon in the First Tennessee Infantry. One bright spring luorning, he started on his rounds of professional duty. In the exuberance of health, youth, and spirits, he sprang upon the horse of a brother officer. He had gone but a short distance, when the high-mettled creiature reared upon its hind feet suddenly ; the young man was thrown backward, and falling upon the frozen earth, was instantly killed. The concussion fractured his skull. Mrs. Johnson has grieved for this son as did Jacob for his beloved Joseph, and ijot only the mother, but the whole family have mourned with unusual poignanc}^ his untimely death. Any mention of " Charlie's " name brings to their eyes the hot tears, and a sadness hard to dispel, gathers about their lips, when some familiar object recalls their loved and early lost one. The Convention, in 1864, nominated Andrew John- son, then Military Governor, for the Vice Presidency, on the ticket with Mr. Lincoln. In March, 1865, Mr. Johnson left his family in Nashville and went on to Washington. It was theii' intention to vacate the house then occupied by their fiimily and remove to their home in Greenville, but the events of the coming month caused them to form other plans. President Lincoln was assassinated the 14th of A])ril, and the Vice President was immediately sworn into office. A 503 ELIZA m'cATIDLE JOHNSON. telegraphic notice in the Xashville papers the next morning contained the following : " The Vice President has already assumed tlie au- thority which the Constitution de^^olYes upon him, and vve feel doubly assured that he will so conduct himself in his high office as to merit the affection and applause of his coimtrymen." As this was the first murder of a ruler in the experience of the Republic, it will ever occupy a prominent place in the history of America, and, involving as it did the result of civil war, will live a silent monitor to all democratic countries. Had the conspii'acy, which had been carefully planned, been successfully executed, the Government would have been paralyzed. Even as it was, and there was but one death, when many others were meditated, the shock was terrible and lasting. It was a humiliating calam- ity to our free government, and a source of national sorrow and mortification. Men and women, reared to idealize ratlier than ponder on the principles of the system under which they had lived ; educated to give a ready assent to the hero worslup of the signers of the Declaration, and voluntary adoration to the First General of our army, and the first President, rudely awakened from their dream of a perfect Government, became discouraged and dismayed at the unexpected, . never to he thought of, murder of a President. It may not be amiss to give a few facts in connection with this unhappy afi'air, relative to the husband of Mrs. Johnson, which, afi'ecting her interests materially, are not out of place in this brief sketch of her life. After her ari'ival in Washington, a beautifully MR. John-son's escape. 503 bound album, containing tlie letters of the Wisconsin State Historical Society, to Senator Doolittle, and the replies of himself and Ex-Governor Farwell, was pre- sented to her. The letters were inscribed by an ex pert penman, and are prized by the family as a truth ful account of their father's narrow escape from death^ together with the main incidents of the assassination conspiracy. The Historical Society of Wisconsin, through Hon. L. C. Draper, its* Secretary, wrote to Senator J. R. Doolittle for a full account of the circumstances; to which he replied, that " by the sagacity, presence of mind, courage, and devotion of Governor Farwell, our own distinguished fellow-citizen, Mr. Johnson, was ap- prized of his danger, and his life secured, if not al)so- lutely saved from destruction ; " " aud it is a matter of congratulation to ourselves and our State that a former Governor of Wisconsin was successfully efficient in securing the life of the nation's Chief Magistrate." Governor Farwell's letter, in reply to the request of the Society, through Senator Doolittle, is perhaps the most authentic statement ever made in regard to the unfortunate affair. It is as follows : " Washington, February 8, 1866. " Hon". James E,. Doolittle, United States Senate. " Dear Sir : I have received your favor of the 22d ult., requesting, on behalf of the Wisconsin State His- torical Society, a statement of my connection with the occun'ences that took place in this city on the night of the assassination of President Lincoln. It is a 50-4 ELIZA m'cakdle JOIINSOlSr. mournful task to recall tlie terrible scenes that I then witnessed. Yet in order that the expressed wishes of that Societ)^, of which from the time of its formation I have been a member, and in which I have always taken a deep interest, may be gratified, and a truthful account of those events, so far as I witnessed them, may find its way into liistory, I comply with the request. " At the time of tJie assassination of President Lin- coln, I was boarding at the Kirkwood House, my fam- ily being then in Wisconsin. The Vice President had rooms, and was boarding at the same place, and I there came to know him, and occasionally passed an evening in his toom. " Early in the evening of April 14th, 1865, I called to see Mr. J. B. Crosby, of Massachusetts, and found that he had but a short time to stay, and was very de- sirous of seeing the President before his return. Hav- ing noticed in the papers a statement that Mr. Lincoln was expected to be present at Ford's Theatre on that evening, to witness the play entitled ' Our American Cousin,' we concluded to go thither for the express purpose of seeing him. This we did, and procured seats, having tlie President's ])ox in full view on our right. When the fatal shot was fired, we involunta- rily turned our eyes to the box from wliich the sound ])roceeded, and at the same instant the horrible vision of J. Wilkes Booth flashed upon my eyes, brandishing a knife, and jumping fi'oni tlie President's box, repeat- ing the words, ' Sic Semper Tyrannis.' I had scarcely seen and heard him before he had vanished from the stage. As the President fell, and the cry ran through GOVEKNOE FAinVELL's LETTER. 505 tjie liouse that lie was assassinated, it flasliecl across ni} mind tliat there was a conspiracy being consummated to take the lives of the leading: officers of the Govern- ment, which would include that of Mr. Johnson. The cause of this suspicion and of my alarm for the safety of Mr. Johnson was, prol^ably, the fact of my having read in some newspaper the article copied from the Selma (Ala.) Desjiiatch, being an offer by some fiendish rebel to aid in contributing a million of dollars for procuring the assassination of Lincoln, Johnson, and Seward. While some seemed paralyzed by the bold- ness of the deed, and others intent upon knowing how seriously the President was injured, I rushed from the theatre and ran with all possible speed to the Kirk- wood House, to aj)prise Mr, Johnson of the impending danger, impelled by a fear that it might even then be too late. Passing Mr. Spencer, one of the clerks of the hotel, who was standing just outside the door, I said to him, ' Place a guard at the door. President Lincoln is murdered;' and to Mr. Jones, another clerk, who was at the office desk as I hurried by — ' Guard the stairway and Governor Johnson's room, Mr. Lincoln is assassinated ;' and then darting up to Mr. Johnson's room, No. 68, I knocked, but hearing no movement, I knocked again, and called out with the loudest voice that I could command, ' Governor Johnson, if you are in this room I must see you.' In a moment I heard him spring from his bed, and exclaim, ' Farwell, is that you?' 'Yes, let me in,' I replied. The door opened, I passed in, locked it, and told him the terri- ble news, which for a time overwhelmed us both, and 50G ELIZA M'CARDLE JOHNSON. grasping hands, we fell upon each other as if for mutual 'iupport. But it was only for a moment. While every sound suggested the stealthy tread of a conspirator, and every corner of the chamber a lurking place, yet Mr. Johnson, without expressing any appre hension for his own safety, and with that promptness and energy which has always characterized him, at once deliberated upon the proper course to meet the emergency. But the moment of danger had passed. The officers of the hotel, as requested by me, had sta- tioned guards, who in a short time were released by Secretary Stanton. Soon many personal friends of Mr. Johnson arrived, anxiously inquiring for his safety. . In the mean time, the news of the murderous assault upon Secretary Seward and his son Frederick had reached us, and justified our fears as to the general purpose of the conspirators. Mr. Johnson was desir- ous of knowing the real condition of the President and Mr. Seward, and requested me to go and see them personally, and not to credit any story or rumor that might be flying about the city. This was no easy task. Distrust and horror seemed to fill every mind. The very atmosphere was burdened with stories of dark conspiracies and bloody deeds. Thousands of ex- cited citizens, soldiers, and guards, blocked up every avenue leading to Mr. Peterson's house. No. 453 Tenth Street, to which the President had been carried, and in which he was dying. None but prominent citizens, either known to the officers of the guard, or who could be generally vouched for, were allowed to pass, and it was with the utmost difficulty that I succeeded in THE ASSASSIlSrATION" OF LIiSrCOLl^. 507 working my way tlirougli the crowd and past the guards to the house, and then into the room in which the President had been i^h^ced. The uey/s was all too true. There he lay, evidently in the agonies of death, his medical attendants doing all that human zeal or skill could devise, and many of his friends had gathered about him, some in tears. Turning away from this sad sight, I worked my way to the house of Secretary Seward, and there, too, I found that the vil- lains had done their work. I then returned and re- ported to Mr. Johnson the disastrous doings of the conspirators. In a short time Mr. Johnson resolved to see the President himself. His friends thought he ought not to leave the house when there was so much excitement in the city, and when the extent of the conspiracy was unknown. President Lincoln had just been shot in the presence of a crowded assembly, and his assassin had escaped. Secretary Seward had been stabbed in his chamber, and the minion had fled. But he determined to go. Major James R. O'Beirne, com manding the Provost Guard, desired to send a detach- ment of troops with him, but he declined the offer, and, buttoning up his coat, and pulling his hat well down, he I'equested me to accompany him and the Major to lead the way, and thus we went through the multitude that crowded the tstreets and filled the pas- sage-way, till we joined the sad circle of friends who were grouped around the bedside of the dying Presi- dent. It is unnecessary to add any thing more to thia account of my connection with an event which forms, with the rebellion plot, the darkest chapter iu our eounti'v's liistory. 508 ELIZA m'cAEDLE JOHNSON. " If it is true, as regarded by many, that the life of President Johnson was saved by the timely arrival of citizens at the Kirkwood, at the risk of their lives, then such risk was properly, and so far as I am con- cerned, joyfully incurred, and this statement may be worthy of ^^reservation. Trusting that tliis may meet the wishes of the Society as expressed through you, " I have the honor to be, " Respectfully, " Your obedient servant, "L. J. Faewell." The Washington correspondent of the Chicago Re- publican thus speaks of Mrs. Johnson : " Mrs. Johnson, a confirmed invalid, has never ap- peared in society in Washington. Her very existence is a myth to almost every one. She was last seen at a party given to her grandchildren. She was seated in one of the Republican Court chairs, a dainty affair of satin and ebony. She did not rise when the children or old guests were presented to her ; she simply said, ' My dears, I am an invalid,' and her sad, pale face and sunken eyes fully proved the expression. Mrs. Johnson looks somewhat older than the President, and her age does exceed his by a few swings of the scythe of time. She is an invalid now, but an observer would say, contemplating her, 'A noble woman — God's best gift to man.' Perhaps it is well to call to mind at this time that it was this woman who taught the President to read, after she became his wife, and that in all their earlier years she was his counsellor, assistant, and guide. IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 509 None but a wise and good mother could have reared such daughters as Mrs. Patterson and Mrs. Stover. When Mrs. Senator Patterson found herself 'the first lady in the land,' she made this remark, which has been the key-note of the feminine department of the White House from that day to the' present time: ' We are plain people, from the mountains of Tennessee, called here for a short time by a national calamity. I trust too much will not be expected of us.' When Anna Siirratt threw herself prostrate upon the floor of one of the ante-rooms of the White House, begging to see Mrs. Patterson, she said : * Tell the girl she has my sympathy, my tears, but I have no more right to speak than the servants of the White House.' When the 'pardon brokers' trailed their slimy lengths every- where about the Mansion, they never dared to cross a certain enchanted pathway; and the face of any lobbyist set in this direction has always brought up in the end against a stone wall." Mrs. Johnson shared as little as possible in the honors accorded her famil}^, as well after as during their stay in the White House, and gladly turned her face homeward, to find rest and repose so necessary to her feeble condition. Once more quietly established at home, she antici- pated renewed happiness in the presence of her re- united family, and reasonably hoped to have much happiness in the future. Death hovered near her when least expected, and one night, as the servant entered the room of her son (Col. Eobert Johnson), he was discovered in a dying 510 ELIZA m'cardle johnsoit. condition, and in an unconscious state passed from eartli. From a tear-stained letter, we gather these sad particulars. " He was well nnd on the street at five o'clock, and at dusk, as the servant went as usual, to light his lamp, she discovered that he ^yas in a deep sleep. He was never aroused from it. All the physi- cians of the village were immediately called in, but alas ! too late to do any good. He breathed his last at half-past eleven that night, without a single groan or struggle. " I do not suppose he ever made an enemy in his life. He w^as certainly the most popular boy ever raised in this part of the country, and continued so after he became a man. Oh, if he could only have spoken one word to us ! but he passed into the tomb, unconscious of all around him. He was buried wdth Masonic honors, and the largest funeral ever before seen in this village accompanied his remains to the grave." After seven years of wanderings he was permitted to accompany his parents to theu' home, and die sur- rounded by the friends of his youth. Thus in the prime and vigor of manhood, he has descended to the tomb, regretted by all who knew him, and deeply lamented by his mother, who has in a few short years lost two grown sons. But one is left to her, and at the time of his brother's death (which occurred on the 22nd of April, 1868) was at school in Georgetown. Three children are spared to cheer her saddened age, and sustain her in her deep grief. Tennessee is proud to have her children return to their home in the midst of her grand old mountain RETUEN TO TEJN'N'ESSEE. 511 scenery, and Tennesseeans deliglit to honor and accord praise to Mrs. Johnson and her daughters, who, through so many difficulties, and the most stormy period of the country's experience, so conducted themselves as to compel the fiercest opponents of the Administration to acknowledge their superior merits. To the family of President Johnson Americans point with just pride, and their native State responds to the harmonious voice of the country. XXIII. MARTHA PATTERSON. The resemblance to lier fatlier is a marked attril^ute of Mrs. Patterson's face ; a reproductiou, though mould- ed ill a softer cast, of his distinct and reguhar features and expressive eyes. She possesses his executive abihty, his comprehensiveness, aud many of his characteristic peculiarities. Her countenance denotes strength, and the organs of the head indicate a harmonious and perfect blending with the finer sentiments of the heart. Eyes large and full discover her power of language, and the development of form, color, size, and weight, attest her ability to judge correctly and estimate pro- portions unerringly. Viewed from a phrenological stand-point, hers is a remarkable organism. The head is symmetrical, tending u|)ward from the brow, indi- cating spirituality, and gently sloping to the ears aud neck, embracing in its outlines the faculties of firmness, generosity, and benevolence. Never led off by persuasion from what her judg- ment decides correct, she rarely makes a mistake in re- gard to persons or places, and is the firm advocate of those less fortunate than herself. Like her heart, her mouth is lai"ge, the lips partaking more of the intellec- tual than of the sensual. The length, prominence, and compression of the uj)per lip, bespeaks the firmness and strength of character which stamps her, wherever she ^^^^-^^^IZ^i- (_y t^;^ PERSONAL CIIAKACTERISTICS. 513 goes, a woman of rare powers. Adapting herself to circumstances, she quickly masters any situation in which she is placed, and controls rather than follows the will of others. The intellectual lobe is large, the per- ceptive and reflective faculties are harmoniously blend- ed, and withal hei'S is an educated intellect, with an available mind. She is possessed of almost sleepless energy, and her slight, frail form seems knitted for en- durance. Never restless or impatient, she compre- hends at a glance her position and requirements, and by the force of her will overcomes obstacles and bears up with fortitude under accumulated trials. Reared in the mountains of East Tennessee, her na- ture is untrammeled by artistic contortions, and her manners are as free from ostentation as are the feelings "which prompt them. The eldest of five children, she was to her mother an efficient aid in the care of her brothers and sister, and in the management of her house. When she was old enough to attend school, it was her task to assist in keeping house, and no duty was neQ:lecte:l. It has been remarked that she never had time to play. While other school-girls amused themselves in the sports of the season, the pale, quiet Martha Johnson hastened back to relieve her mother, and by her indeftitigable industry performed the many deeds so grateful to a parent, when offei-ed by a child. The neighbodfs called her a strange, silent being, indif- ferent to the ordinary amusements of the young, but she felt herself ennobled by the work she daily made a part of her life, and passed these younger years in her own. earnest way. 514 MAETHA PATTERSON. She was placed by her father, who was then t\ member of Congress, at school in Georgetown, where she remained three terms, and there laid the foundation of the structure which, as she grows older, develops her native strength of mind. It happened that, during her school-life in George- town, President Polk, of Tennessee, occupied the White House, and she became his frequent guest, spending most of her holidays in the mansion in which, later in life, she was to preside. Her own accounts of her so- journ are amusing, deprecating as she does the awk- ^^^ard conduct of the timid, bashful girl, in the stately residence, through which the voices of children never resounded. She was shy and distant, and the stately kindness of the hostess could not overcome her shrink- ing reserve ; it was her greatest delight then to observe persons, and the opportunity afforded was not lost upon her. She returned home in 1851, and was married to Judge David T. Patterson, on the 13th of December, 1856. No wedding festivities marked the occasion, it being congenial to her habits to have a quiet ceremony. After which she visited Nashville, where her father was residing as Governor of the State. Extending her tour through the southern cities to New Orleans, she returned to her old home in Tennessee, where she con- tinued to live until the war in 1860 disturbed the pri- vate relations of the entire family. Throughout the stormy years of '61 and '62, she remained in East Ten- nessee, nor did she leave there till, late in the next year, slie visited her mother's family at Nashville. It was hrr intention to remain several months and then go back HER DISMANTLED HOME. 515 to her home ; bat before she again crossed its threshold, the two contending armies had passed through the place, leaving nothing but the empty house. Every particle of furniture, every prized relic of her own and her children's infant years were gone, and their home was desolated. She trod its familiar apartments where she had left so many mementoes of a happy past, and nothing remained save the bare walls. Well she remembered the arranging and adjusting of every thing before closing it up, and as she gazed upon its comfortless appearance, her mind dwelt upon the time she had spent in adding to its adornment. The family were in Nashville when the nomination of the father, then Military Governor of Tennessee, as Vice-President was announced, and they witnessed the delight of the Union men of the Capital, as the news spread of his success. Early in February, the Vice-President proposed to leave Tennessee, and his childi-en decided to seek once more their home in Greenville. The news of the assas-^ sination of President Lincoln flashed over the wires on the morning of the 15th of April, as the drums were beating and soldiers parading for a grand review and procession in honor of the recent victories. It reached the family of Mr. Johnson as they were preparing for their removal home, and awakened in their breasts anxious fears for the fate of the husband and father. Assurances of his safety calmed their minds, and with deep thankfulness that he was spared, they sorrowed for the untimely death of the President. The Nash- ville papers of the 19th of April, thus speak of the 516 MARTHA PATTERSON. funeral procession in honor of the murdered Chief Magistrate : " All places of business were closed, and every store and dwelling appropriately draped in mourning. The pi'ocession numbered upward of fifteen thousand per- sons ; among them were Generals Thomas, Miller, Whipple and Donaldson, and in the line of civilians which swelled its length was seen the carriage of Mrs. James K. Polk, occupied by herself and Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson." The family of the new President reached Washing- ton in June, and soon after took up their residence in the White House. Here was a new field entirely for the diffident woman who was compelled to do the honors in lieu of her mother, vv^ho was a confirmed invalid. After the harrowing scenes through which the former occupants had passed, the House looked any thing but inviting to the family. Soldiers had wandered unchallenged the entire suites of parlors ; and the East Koom, dirty and soiled, was filled with vermiu. Guards had slept upon the sofas and carpets until they were ruined, and the immense crowds who, during the preceding years of war, filled the President's house continually, had worn out the already ancient furniture. No sign of neatness or comfort greeted their appearance at their new home, but evidences everywhere of neglect and decay met their eyes, 'i o put aside all cereriiony and woi'k constantly, was the portion of Mrs. Patterson, under whose control were placed the numerous servants connected with the establishment. HOSTESS OF THE EXECUTIVE MANSION. 517 " The first Reception held by President Johnson was on the 1st of January, 1866, assisted by Mrs. Pat- terson and Mrs. Stover, his two daughters. Their soft- ness and_ease of manner had an eloquent external ex- pression in the simple neatness of their apparel, and surpassed in quiet dignity all who gathered to see them. The house had not been renovated, and the apartments were dingy and destitute of ornament, save two kinds, which are more touchiugly beautiful than gems of the east. Natural flowers were in profusion, and left their fragrance, while the little children of the house wei"e living, breathing ornaments attracting every eye. The old injured furniture of the East Iloom was re- moved, and the worn-out carpets covered with linen. The supervision of Mrs. Patterson made the house quite presentable. Mrs. Patterson was attired in a blue velvet, white Lace shawl, and point lace collar. Her dark hair was put back from her face, with pendant tresses, and adorned with a single white Japonica. Mrs. Stover, who was yet in half-mourning for her gallant husband, wore a heavy black silk, with no ornaments in her light hair." During the early spring, an appropriation was made by Congress, of thirty thousand dollars to refur- nish the Executive Mansion, and during the long and warm summer succeeding, she struggled unceasingly with the atlas-heaps of lumber and old furniture scarcely worth repairing, but which was renovated for use. The firmness and decision of Mrs. Patterson's character was fully tested in this trying ordeal, but she triumphed over every difficulty, and so maudged the 518 " MAKTHA PATTERSON. amount appropriated that tlie Executive Mansion was once more comfortable, and more beautiful than ever before. Appreciating the condition of the country just emerging from a long strife, she determined to make the funds voted sufficient to satisfy the demands of the upholsterer, and to do so, she constituted herself agent Hearing the pro2')osals of various firms, she found, to put the matter in other hands, she could not more than furnish the parloi-s and reception rooms, and then her determination was formed to superintend the pur- chases. By dint of perseverance and the coopera- tion of competent assistants, she had the house com- pleted when the winter season approached. Old and abused setts were repolished and covered, and the papering which she had not the means to remove entirely, was made to assume a brighter appearance by the addition of panelings and gilt ornaments. The warm weather, which had ever found her be- fore the war in her mountain home, now came upon her in its intensity, as she labored with her numerous assistants in arranging the comfortless residence over which she presided. Who, while admiring the elegant and refined atmosphere of the historic house during her fathers administration, imagined that the entire labor vv^as accomplished by the tact and energy of the dausrhter who received and entertained her visitors so unostentatiously ? Tenderly caring for her invalid mother, and her children, who grew weary of the restraints imposed upon them, she btruggled on and succeeded in making HER ADJimiSTRATION OF AFFAIRS. 519 the house not only attractive to her friends, bat to citizens and strangers, who pronounced it handsomer than it ever was in times past. The exquisite walls of the Blue Room will remain a lasting proof of her accomplishod and cultivated refinements, and the grace- ful adornments of the hitherto stiff and ungainly East Koom are living evidences of her ability. A newspaper correspondent who visited the White House compli- mented Mrs. Patterson upon the Republican simplicity of the establishment, to which she replied, " We are a plain people, sir, from the mountains of Tennessee, and we do not propose to put on airs because we have the fortune to occupy this place for a little while.'"* "There is a homeliness in this utterance," says the Albany Evening Journal, " which will shock the sensi- tive refinement of ' ottar of roses and lavender water classes,' but it has a sentiment in it which must meet with response from every true lover of democratic ideas and practices." Throughout the White House there existed not a single evidence of tawdry gaudiness or coarseness in color or quality ; and from cellar to garret it was over- hauled and adorned by the unaffected hostess, who called herself " a plain person from East Tennessee." " The reference of Mrs. Patterson to the mountain home of her family, is suggestive of the fact that when the tornado of war was sweeping over Tennessee, Pres- ident Johnson's kin dwelt where its ravao;es were most dreadful, and that while some who are now leading the shoddy aristocracy of the metropolis were coining their ill-gotten dollars from the sufferings and blood of brave 520 MARTH.l PATTERSON. men, tliey were being Iinntecl from point to point, driven to seek a refuge in the solitude of tlie wilder- ness, forced to sul)sist on coarse and insufficient food, and more than once called to bury with secret and stolen sepulture those whom they loved : murdered be- cause they would not join in deeds of odious treason to union and liberty. A family with such a record of devotion and suffering, needs for its recognition none of the adventitious aids of show and pretence. It is refreshing in these days of extravagant and pompous display, when silly pretence is made to pass current for gcntilit}^, when bombast and fustian are palmed off as good [breeding, when the shopman's wife emulates the luxury of a duke's household, when no one is presumed to be worthy the honors of good society who does not ' put on airs,' to hear that the President's daughter who, by courtesy of her new position as his housekeeper, is the first lady of the land, proposes to set the example of a truly republican simplicity all too rare among those who influence the customs of the land.'' In September, 1867, Mrs. Patterson accompanied the Presidential j^arty on their tour through the Northern and Western states, leaving her two children with her mother at the White House. Returning in a few weeks, she resumed the routine of her life, and pre- pared for the approaching season. Mrs. Patterson is tlie first instance of the wife of a Senator and a daughter of the President presiding over the Executive IMansion, President Jefferson's second daughter, Mrs. E})pes, held a similar position, but she never presided over the Mansion^ and was but once a NOT UNLIKE MRS. JOlIIf ADAMS. 521 visitor at the President's house during, lier short ]ife, after her father's election. The threefokl responsibili- ties were accepted and endured with a cahn reliance on the energies of a mind ever ready for the occasion and tne world has already rendered the verdict of • many daughters liave done virtuously, but thou ex- cellest them all." _ Simple but elegant in her apparel, never descend^ ing to a disregard of place, yet not carried away by the follies of fashion, Mrs. Patterson has pleased the eye, and gratified the pride of all who folt an interest m her success. Golden opinions of her taste were ^von by the rich simplicity of her toilet on every public oc- casion, and the beauty of her dress consisted always in the artless, unassuming manner of the wearer. In the coml)ined elements which go to form the marked character of Mrs. Patterson, she was not unlike Mrs. John Adams, and her will-power, guided by superior common-sense, recalls to mind the life of that brave woman of the Revolution ; but the current of cir- cumstances mto which she has been thrown, has been almost too strong to allow her perfect freedom of ac tion. In her life there has never come a time when she might choose between diverging pathways; l^ut if she could not alter the stern fiats of fote, she had the power of dignifying little insignificant things and, ])y her manner of meeting them, making the pleasantest side appear In an eminent degree she inherits that most marked trait of her father's character, patient en- durance, and knows " how sublime a thing it is, to suffer and be strong." Treading unmurmuringly the appoint. •^22 MARTHA PATTERSOIN". ed way of life, she depends upon her judgment to guide her bark, recognizing the fact that when nature fills the sails the vessel goes smoothly on ; and when judgment is the pilot the insurance need not be high. In the higher walks of literary pursuits she wil] never shine, nor yet as a conspicuous person in any de- partment of life. She has essentially a Southerner's love of home ; and the duties devolving upon her as a mother, daughter, and wife, fill the meed of her ambi- tion. True to principle, she will perform the duties of her station be it high or low, and the amount of cour- age hidden away in the recesses of her nature would lead her in emergencies to dare — if need be — to die. Simple to a fault in her desires, she has learnt to gather happiness from within, and to rely upon the cold charity of the world for nothing. She would not pine for luxuries which others deem necessities, but even rather scorns the value many set upon them. Keared as she was in childhood by parents remarkable for ceaseless industry, she imbibed the lessons taught her by example, and is energetic to restlessness, and vigilant in working while the day lasts. During the impeachment trial of her father, Mrs. Patterson was asked what she thought of it, and how it would terminate. " I have so much to do," she re- plied, " that I have no time to discuss the subject, and I suppose my private opinion is not worth much ; I do not know how it will end, but all we can do is to wait." And she did wait, bending every energy to entertain as became her position, and wearing always a patient, Buffering look. Through the long weeks of the trial, HEE ONEROUS DUTIES. 523 slie listened to every request, saw every caller, and served every petitioner (and only those who have filled this position know how arduous is this duty), hiding from all eyes the anxious weight of care oppressing her. If she was indisposed after the acquittal, it sur- prised no one who had seen her struggling to keep up before. There are no triumphs or displays to record of her life, no travels in foreign lands, nor novel sights of strange places. She has not stood in the Orient and watched the great stars swim down hot Southern skies, nor heard from the distant palm groves the orioles and nightingales. The even tenor of her way has been spent far from the palaces of luxury or the frivolities of fashion. She has not trodden the gilded halls of ephemeral wealth, nor basked in the sunlight of uninterrupted prosperity, but from the emanations of her father's genius she has gathered the forces which strengthen her own mind ; and the rounds she has mounted in the ladder of pro- gressive development have been won by earnest thought and the gradual experiences of a still young life. She more than any other of her name and race, has appreciated the giant efforts of her father, and upon her has he devoted most attention. The companion in childhood of the village tailor, she has become in womanhood the counsellor and friend of the successful statesman. Louis Napoleon, in his Life of Julius Caesar, says : ■ — " How little able are common men to judge of the motives which govern great souls." The history of 524 MAETIIA PATTERS0J7. Mrs. Patterson's stay in tlie Executive Mansion sug- gests the thonglit liow nnappi'eciated slie was by tliose wlio fawned around lier in lier liour of trinniDli. Possessing native intellect to a high degree, she kno^vs her latent powers, and her liead thinks and her soul feels the difference between her sound principles and })ractical sense, and the flippant, vain women who con- sider her unfashionable. . With such a class she could have no sympathy ; and it is foreign to her nature to dissemble. Circumventing all attempts at advice and assistance, she taught many who insisted upon hel])ing her, that a sensible woman is never at a loss for words or manners, and to such, Presidents' Houses are as sim- ple residences, requiring only the refinement of tlie lady and the ability of a resolute, determined person. Genial and sociable to familiar friends, she was gener- ally distant and reserved toward promiscuous visitors; while, at the same time, she had a high sense of the jus- tice due the masses from the family of the first oflicial in the nation. This feeling of duty toward others actuated her course in keeping the White House ready always to be seen by the crowds who daily throng it. Parlors and conservatories were kept open as much as consistent, though many times very annoying to the inmates, and rendering the privacy of their own apart- ments I'ather a matter of chance than of certainty. It was not unfrequent that idle curiosity-seekers ventured through the closed doors which separated the private from tlie public wing of the ])uilding, and intru