The HoMfi OF THE RE^IDENT^ C«-^ xi'«y^-ix^xi:i'i^: LINCOLN ROOM UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY MEMORIAL the Class of 1901 founded by ■;^.^i'.'. HARLAN HOYT HORNER ■.'i 'j and ^Ufe "-;:": HENRIETTA CALHOUN HORNER mt ;'tr;- V 1 . > ' . 1 1^ ^^^^ . Washington from Mount Vernon — Congress assembles — Mrs, Washington's drawing-rooms held on Friday evenings — Early hours for retiring — She tells her company that her husband retired at " ten" and she followed very soon afterward — Stiffness and formality of the drawing-rooms — How Mrs. Washington received — No handshaking in those days — The grandchildren of Mrs. Washington — Mrs. Robert Morris receives with Mrs. Washington — The Marchioness d'Yuro — The first levee in Philadel- phia the most brilliant occasion of the kind ever known in this country — Recollections of Mrs. Binney — Mrs. Washington's punctuality in return- ing calls — Her manners easy and pleasant — Makes tea and coffee for an English guest — Her plain cap and gray hairs, as described by this visitor — Return to Mount Vernon — The old life resumed — Washington lays out the future capital — The " White House " named in honor of the former home of his wife — The building afterward partly burned by the British — Anecdote of "obstinate" David Burns — "What would Washington have been if he hadn't married the Widow Custis? " — Mount Vernon thronged with visitors — Closing years of Washington's life — His death in 1799— Grief of Mrs. Washington — Refuses to be comforted — Never re-enters the chamber in which he died — Congress passes resolutions of respect and condolence— En- treats Mrs. Washington's consent to the interment of the remains in Wash- ington — She gives reluctant consent to the request — Remains interred at Mount Vernon, where they are now — Mrs. Washington's resemblance to her husband — Pier dependence upon his guidance and love — Her appearance at this time — Serene of countenance — A devoted Christian — His death a fatal blow — Her death two and a-half years later — Their bodies side by side — Visit of Lafayette to Mount Vernon in 1S26 — Visit of Albert Prince of Wales, in i860, in company with President Buchanan — Description of the place as it appeared before its restoration 39 MRS. ABIGAIL ADAMS. The daughter of a New England minister — Listructed by her grandmother — Durable impressions received from her — Never at school — Always sick- Austere religious habits and customs of her kindred — Ima£jinative faculties CONTENTS. suppressed — A great letter-writer — A reader of standard works — Not a learned woman — Her fondness for religious topics and discussions — The daugluers taught home duties — The sons sent to college — No career for woman outside the domestic circle where she toiled — Marriage of Abigail Smith to John Adams — Her parents rather opposed to the match — She was the daughter and granddaughter of a minister, and hence superior to him in social position — Incident connected with her marriage — Her Father's ser- mon — A happy marriage — The mother of three sons and a daughter — Mr. Adams a delegate to the Colonial Convention — Made the trip from Bos- ton to Philadelphia on horseback — Elected to Congress — His wife alone at Braintree — Hears news of the battle of Lexington — Manages her farm and does her own housework — Studies French at night — Long evenings alone with her four little children — Three deaths in her household — Cheers her husband at his far-off post of duty — The proclamation of the King arouses her patriotism — In sight of the cannonading at Boston, and in the midst of pestilence — Mr. Adams returns to his suffering family — Leaves, after a month's visit, for Philadelphia — The roar of British cannon before Boston — Mrs. Adams climbs a hill to watch the shells falling about the city — Writes her husband from her jx^st of observation — His long absence — No joy in his return to his wife when she learns his news — Appointed Minister to France — Sails in company with his eldest son — Mrs. Adams again alone — Manages her farm and teaches her children — Does not hear from her husband for six months — Her business ability enables her to support herself and make her home a happy asylum for family — Writes sadly to her husband — He returns after eighteen months — Ordered to Great Britain to negotiate peace — Two of his sons accompany him — " The cruel torture of separation " — Letter to her eldest son — Lofty sentiments and sound views of the self-sacrificing woman — Rather her boy were dead than immoral — A Spartan mother — Mr. Adams elected Vice-President — Mrs. Adams with him in New York — Is the object of much social attention — Dines with the President, " the ministers and ladies of the court" — Washington gives her sugar-]ilums to take to her grnndson — Mrs. Adams congratulates her husband on his election to the Presidency — Her feelings not those of pride but solemnity — She joins the President in Philadelphia — Seat of government removed to Washington — Letter to her daughter — Graphic description of Washington — The city only so in name — None of the public buildings finished — The White House cheerless and damp — Fires in every room to secure its inmates against chills — Thirty servants required to keep the house in order — Surrounded with forests, yet wood is scarce and expensive — Mr";. Adams returns the visits of George- town ladies — Inconveniences of a new country — No fence or yard about the White House, and not an apartment finished — The East Room used to dry clothes in — Only six chambers habitable — Mrs. Washington sends a haunch of venison from Mount Vernon — Invites Mrs. Adams to visit her — Mrs. Adams has no looking-glasses and not a twentieth part lamps enough to light the house — The roads intolerable — The work of a day to make a visit — Loca- tion of city beautiful — Hon. Cotton Smith describes Washington — The huts lO CONTENTS. of the residents contrast painfully with the public buildings — First New Year's reception in iSoi — The etiquette of Washington's time adopted — Guests received in the Library — Mrs. Adams ill — Returns to Quincy, Massa- chusetts — In the White House four months — Attends to her husband's pri- vate affairs — Cheerful and bright under all circumstances — Retirement of Mr. Adams from public life — Mrs. Adams the " Portia " of the rebellious prov- inces — Her marked characteristics, truthfulness and earnestness — Her place in history — Indifference to fashionable life — Seventeen years of home life — Writes her granddaughter on her fiftieth marriage anniversarj' — Thankfulness for so much happiness — Eldest son appointed Minister to Great Britain by President Madison — Appointed Secretary of State by President Monroe — Death of her daughter, Mrs. Abigail Smith — Friendship with President Jefferson broken — Political differences the cause — Silence of many years broken by the death of Jefferson's daughter — Her secoRd letter criticising his course in the appointments to office — The correspondence unknown to her husband — His later endorsement — Jefferson writes to Adams — They never meet again — Mrs. Adams' imposing appearance — Her face strongly intellec- tual, but never beautiful — Her old age possessed of the sweetness of youth — Death of Mis. Adams in 1818— A nation's private tribute to her worth — Jefferson expresses his sympathy to Mr. Adams — Buried in the Congregation- alist Church at Quincy — Her husband buried beside her $7 MARTHA JEFFERSON. Jeffei-son's wife died before his elevation to office — No fonnal receptions during his administration — Married to Mrs. Martha Shelton, of Charles City county — Marriage bond drawn in his own handwriting found — His bride a beautiful and clever woman — Exquisite form and fine complexion — A fine conversa- tionalist and musician — How Jefferson defeated his rival suitors — They listen outside while the two sing — Marriage at " The Forest " — Trip to Monticello — Travel in a snow storm — Arrived late at night — A bottle of wine serves for fire and supper — Happy married life — Mother of five children — Governor Jefferson declines a mission to Europe — Her health failing — Flies from her home with her babe in her arms — Arnold's march to Richmond — Efforts to capture Jefferson — Wife and children sent into the interior — Monticello cap- tured — Many negro slaves taken away — Caesar secretes the plate — Is fastened- under ground eighteen hours — Family return home — Mrs. Jefferson very ill — Clings to life — Intense affection for husband and children — Jefterson by her side until she dies — Beautiful and .strong character — The eldest daughter sent to school — Her youngest sister dies — Jefferson sends for Martha and Marie — Placed at a French convent — Mrs. Adams' description of Marie — A ' girl of superior beauty — Martha asks permission to remain in a convent — Taken from school — Jefferson returns to America with his daughters — Mar- riage of Martha to Thomas Macon Randolph, Jr., her father's ward and her cousin — Marie is married to Mr. Eppes, of Ei^pington — Jefferson a member of Washington's cabinet — Afterward Vice-President — Inaugurated President in iSoi — Letter of Sir Augustus Foster — Martha the mother of several chil- CONTENTS. 1 1 dren — Her home near Monticello — Washington City society — Some novel sispects — Incidents of a call — Letter from father to daughter — Death of Mrs. Eppes — Personalities concerning her — Letter from Mrs. Adams — Her at- tachment to Marie Jefferson — Jefferson's second inauguration — Martha Ran- dolph and her children at the White House — Washington unhealthy in summer — Mrs. Randolph a busy Virginia matron — "The sweetest woman iu Virginia " — Jefferson's retirement to Monticello — His daughter his house- keeper — Hundreds of guests — People watch for a sight of the ex-President — A window-pane broken by a curious woman — Men and women gaze at him as he passes through his hall — No privacy in his home — Jefferson's letter concerning his daughter — The education of girls — " The apple of his eye " — Were life to end — Loss of property — Maitha the companion and nurse of her father — Her children his idols — Mr. Randolph's ill-health and failure — Death of Jefferson — Mrs. Randolph at his bed-side — A little casket — His last pang of life is parting from her — A touching tribute to his daughter — Jeffer- son's estate insolvent — Monticello sold — Exhibition of public feeling — Death of Mr. Randolph — The flimily separated — Letter from her daughter — Inter- esting facts of her family — Death of Martha Jefferson Ra^ldolph in 1836-;- \ Buried beside her father at Monticello I26 DOROTHY PAINK MADISON, Washington Irving's letter — Mrs. Madison's drawing-room — Her two sisters — The daughter of Virginians — Granddaughter of William Coles, Esq., of Coles' Hill — Her parents join the Friends' Society — Reside in Philadelphia — Daughter reared in strict seclusion — Her sunny nature — Married at nine- teen to a young lawyer — Her sisters — Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Cults — Mrs. Paine's fascination of manner and beauty of person — Left a widow with an infant son — A general favorite in society — Object of much attention — Courted by many suitors — Marriage to Mr. Madison, then a member of Congress — The match a brilliant one — The bride of twenty-three years of age — The wedding at the residence of her sister, in Virginia — Resides in summer at Montpelier — Winters spent in Washington — Generous and hospi- table — A hapi'/y domestic life — Mr. Madison appointed Secretary of State — Removal to Washiagtoa — Gay social life — Her house a radiating point for friends — A noble, high-min to her country home — One win- ter in \Yabhington — A notable house-wife — Her home the abode of comfort and beauty — Maintained thepecuniaiy independence of her husband — A ma- tron of the old school — A letter from her daughter-in-law — Description of Mrs. Tyler and her home — Mrs, Tyler's health fails — Her husband becomes President — Removal to Washington — Her regrets at leaving her home — Be- comes the mistress of the White House — Her great fondness for flowers — Mrs. Roiiert Tyler her representative in society — Her letter to her sister — Rarely seen at the receptions or state dinners — Her daughter Elizabeth mar- ried, in the East Room — Mr. Webster and Mrs. Madison at the wedding — Mrs. Tyler present — Mrs. Semple's letter — The bride returns to Virginia to live — The youngest daughter still a child — The President gives private balls with dancing — Washington Irving appointed Minister to Spain — Letters from Major Tyler — A levee at the White House — Mrs. Tyler's health fails — Her death — Her funeral in the White House — The remains conveyed to Virginia — A committee of the citizens of Washington escort the body — The Piesident and all his family attend it to its resting-place — Her loss mourned by her old friends — The President retires to his home — Remains in seclusion until Con- gress meets — A sad return to Washington 366 JULIA GARDINER TYLER. The second marriage of John Tyler — His bride Miss Julia Gardiner— The first and only marriage of a President — The event much discussed — Miss Gardi- nera beautiful young lady — Educated in New York — A resident of Gardiner's Island, New York Bay — Travels in Europe — Her father her escort — Visits Washington with him, and meets the President — Invited to take an excursion — Captain Stockton in charge of the parly — The trip to Alexandria — Guests invited on deck to witness the firing of cannon — The President and ladies in the cabin — Gentlemen on deck — A terrible catastrophe — Piercing cries of the wounded — Mr. Gardiner among the victims — The bodies conveyed to the White House — Funeral services in the East Room — Miss Gardiner prostrated with grief — An only child — The President's interest in her — Si.x months later they were married — The ceremony performed in New York — Grand reception at the White House — A beautiful bride — Mistress of the White House eight months — Close of the administration — Ex-President a Virginia farmer — Re. sides at his estate on the James river — Mrs. Tyler the mother of many chil- dren — Death of the ex-President in 1862 — Mrs. Tyler returns to New York — Resides at Carleton Hill, Staten Island — Losses of property — Asks Congress for a pension — Subsequent residence in Georgetown, Maryland 397 SARAH CHILDRESS POLK. I'he daughter of a Tennessee farmer — Reared in easy comfort — Educated at a Moravian school — A happy girlhood — Clouds and sunshine — Married at nine- teen — The wedding of James Knox Polk and Sarah Childress — Mr. Polk a member of the Legislature — Elected to Congress — Represents his district for fourteen sessions — Speaker of the Huuse of Representatives — Mrs. Polk 22 CONTENTS. popular in Washington — Is conspicuous in society — An interested spectator of passing events — Studies poHiics — Her Tennessee home — Summers spent in it — A member of the l're>l)ylerian Church — Mr. Polk elected Governor of Tennessee — Removes to Nashville — Mrs. Polk among old friends — Devotes lier time to social duties — The Presidential campaign of 1840 — Political ran- cor and animosity — The bearing of the Governor's wife — Governor Polk the Presidential can lidate of 1844 — Henry Clay his opponent — Election of Gov- ernor Polk — Inaugurated in 1845 — A disagreeable day — Mrs. Polk mistress of the White House — Has no children to occupy her time — Her weekly re- ceptions — Received her company sitting — Great dignity of Mrs. Polk — A daughter of the old school — A woman of strict decorum — No dancing allowed in the White House — Mis. Polk's admirers — Her personal appear- ance — Excellent taste in dress — Poetical tribute from Mrs. Ann S. Stephens — The receptions largely attended — Mrs. Polk's costume — Di>tinguished people ])resent — A neat compliment — The war with Mexico inaugurated — Its con- tinuance until 1848 — President Polk's aflable manners — Newspaper compli- ments to Mrs. Polk — Dangerous illness in the Wiiite House — Taylor elected President — Ex-President Polk gives a dinner party to him — The closing levee at the White House — The farewells to the ex-President and Mrs. Polk — De- parture from Washington — Demonstrations of respect — Arrival at Nashville — ^A fitting welcome — Purchase of Polk Place — A contemplated tour to Eu- jope — 111 health of Mr. Polk — His death — Buried in the grounds of his late residence — A marble temple — Mis. Polk resides alone — Every courtesy and sympathetic attention paid her — The ex-President's study kept as he left it — Public marks of respect paid Mrs. Polk — The members of the Legislature pay her New Year's calls — During Confederate days — Mrs. Polk a type of a class passing away — A descriptive letter — .^n old age of comfort and peace — Reticent concerning herself — Surrounded by relatives and friends 400 MARGARKT TAYLOR. The wife of an army officer — Little known to the public — Opposed to public notice — General Taylor a frontier oflicer — The hero of the Black Hawk and the Seminole wars — Mrs. Taylor's army experience — Never willingly sepa- rated from her husband — An example of wifely devotion — With her husband at Tampa Bay — A quarter of a century of tent life — Always at the side of her husband — A happy and contented wife — A very domestic woman — Her housekeeping accomplishments — Mrs. Taylor a Maryland lady — Received a practical education — Her one ambition — Married in early life — Her husband a young officer — Removal to the West — Her attentions.to her husband — Her children — Sent to her relatives to be reared and educated — Rapid promotion of her husband — His wife the presiding genius of the hosjiital — The com- forts of a home always his — Established at Baton Rouge — The pretty cottage on the river bank — Once a Spanish commandant's house — A delightful home at Inst — Mrs. Taylor and her two daughters — Busy with household cares — Domestic life complete — War with Mexico — General Taylor ordered to the front — Miss Betty in the perfection of her womanhood — Her happy home CONTENTS. 23 life — The "Army of Orcupation " — General Taylor made Commander-in- Chief — Mrs. Taylor and other daughters remain in their home — Honors to General Taylor — Mrs. Taylor's success with her garden and dairy — An ex- ample to the young officers' wives — Has a chapel prepared and the EpiscojMl services read — A rector's occasional presence secured — A handsome church erected later — The garrison ch.ipel a popular resort — Many officers' wives at the post — Their anxiety over the war — Battles fouglit and officers killed — Mrs. Taylor's strength and cuuiagc — A runaway match — Miss .Sarah Tay- lor's marriage to Lieutenant Jofferson Davis — General T.aylor's opposition to his daughters marrying officers — His displeasure over the elopement — Away from home at the time — His rage at Lieutenant Davis's conduct — No honor- able man would so act — Death of Mrs. D.ivis — No reconciliation with her father — The loss a great trial to him — Mrs. Taylor deeply affected — General Taylor's sense of sorrow — Meets Jeffer^on Davis at Buena Vista — Reconcilia- tion on the battle-field — An embrace on the battle-field — The end of the cam- paign — General Taylor a hero — Miss Betty the object of much interest— The Presidential candidacy — Taylor elected — The cottage on the river a Mecca — A year of great excitement— Mis. Taylor's hospitality — Her indifference to public honors — Her desire for retirement — "A plot to deprive her of her hus- band's society " — The army life ended — Miss Betty Taylor's marriage — A bride at twenty-two — Her husband, Major Bliss, her father's Adjutant-Gen- eral — Mistress of the \Vhite Houst- — Mrs. Taylor declining responsibility — "Miss Betty" the hostess — An attractive woman — Tlie inauguration — Wild- est enthusiasm — Washington's welcome to the nation's icTol — A grand ball — Scenes at the ball — General Taylor's apjiearance — Madame Bodisco's dress — • Zachary Taylor's favorite child — Her appearance as she entered the ball-room — Timid and faltering in step — Tlie vast crowd pleased — Overwhelming en- thusiasm — The home life at the White House — Mrs. Taylor absent from offi- cial entertainments — Her simi^le habits ridiculed — The summer passed in quietness — A reception to Father Matthew — The public not satisfied — A de- sire for greater ostentation at the White House — The following winter — Offi- cial life begun — Distinguished men in the Cabinet — The admission of California — Fiery eloquence of Clay — Webster and Calhoun members of the Senate — Political excitement — The change in the President's manner — Be- gins to realize the opposition — Is equal to the emergency — Mrs. Taylor abandons domestic affairs — Devotes herself to social duties — A]-)preciates the importance of her elevation — More ostentation displayed — A social revolu- tion — The new era inaugurated by the ladies — Reception on the first anniver- sary of the inauguration — rThe President's family appear to advantage — Gen- eral Taylor a surprise to his friends — A new role played with success — Miss Betty the leader of society — The press expresses admiration — Cabinet changes — The general character of the administration — The spring passes away — Seventy-fourth anniversary of National Independence — Laying the corner- stone of the Washington Monument — General Taylor presides — The day in- tensely hot — Exposed to the sun — .\ notable event— -The complaints of Gen- eral Taylor regarding the heat — Never experienced such heat in Florida or 24 CONTENTS. Mexico — His return to the White House — Drank freely of cold water and ate fruit — Violent illness — General Taylor has the cholera — His premonitions regarding the end — The remarks concerning his performance of duty — " His motives misconstrued; his feelings grossly betrayed " — Mrs. Taylor admits the possibility of his death — Bitterly regrets their coming to Washington — Prostrate at her husband's bedside — Her children about her — The death-bed scene — The last good-bye — The grief of the family — Heart-rending cries of agony — The end — The removal of the President's remains — Mrs. Taylor's retirement from the White House — Her dream of happiness ended — Never alluded to her life in Washington — With her friends in Kentucky — Finds per- sonal utterances of sympathy oppressive — Retires to her son's residence — Her home near Pascagoula, Louisiana — Leads a quiet life — Death of Major Bliss — A second marriage — The historical name laid aside — The end of a public career 425 ABIGAIL FILLMORE. A. daughter of Rev. Lemuel Powers — Born in 1798 — A descendant of Henry Leland, of Sherbourne — Loses her father in infancy — Her mother her teacher and guide — Removal to Cayuga county, New York — A frontier set- tlement — Stern lessons of poverty — A studious and ambitious girl — Teaches school during the summer months — A well-educated woman — The omnip- otence of energy — Miss Power's blessing of physical health — Personal ap- pearance — Flowing curls of flaxen hair — Her face a mirror of her soul — Much strength of character — Marriage of her mother — The daughter a teacher — Her home with a relative — Meets Mr. Fillmore — A teacher of the village school in winter — The father's unwise selection of work — The son ambitious and studious — Studying law while a clothier's apprentice — A friendly hand extended — The youth assisted — The foundation of usefulness laid — Removes to Erie county — Miss Powers his inspiration and hope — Their engagement — Separated for three years — Too poor to make a journey of 150 miles — Married in 1826 — Life in the wilderness — Poor and content — Their first home — The wife teaches school, keeps house, and helps her husband — Relieves him of care — His progress rapid — Practises law — Elected to the Legislature — Mrs. Fillmore a true help-meet — Intellectually her husband's equal — A sunny nature — Two children in her home — Letters to an old friend — Removal to Buffalo — Mr. Fillmore prospering — Domestic happiness — Social pleasures — Mr. Fillmore's tribute to his wife — Greeted his entire married life with smiles — Her supreme devotion to her husband — Mr. Fill- more in Congress — Elected Vice-President — Death of President Taylor^Mr. Fillmore's accession to the Presidency — Mrs. Fillmore in the White House — Her daughter assumes the first position — Mrs. Fillmore in feeble health — Fond of the society of friends — Her love of music — Mrs. Fillmore a great reader — No library in the Wiiite House — President Filmore asks an appro- priation — Mrs. Fillmore arranges the library — A happy gathering place — The weekly receptions at the White House — Dinner parlies — .\ large circle of cultured people in Washington — Their welcome to the White House— CONTENTS. 25 , Flowers, music, an.|?-"bs' J.C3attre . 'Y^f. p> "^P^ .tN^K " 5^ ©7®!?? , THE Ladies of the White House. MARTHA WASHINGTON. The first who, in our young republic, bore the honors as a President's wife, is described "as being rather below the middle size, but extremely well-shaped, with an agreeable countenance, dark hazel eyes and hair, and those frank, engaging manners so captivating in American women. She was not a beauty, but gentle and winning in her nature, and eminently congenial to her illustrious husband. During their long and happy married life, he ever wore her likeness on his heart." "It was in 1758 that an officer, attired in a military undress, attended by a body-servant tall and militaire as his chief, crossed the ferry over the Pamunkey, a branch of the York River. On the boat's touching the south- ern or New Kent side, the soldier's progress was arrested by one of those personages who give the beau- ideal of the Virgfinia crentleman of the old regime ; the very soul of kindliness and hospitality. It was in vain the soldier urged his business at Williamsburg; im- portant communications to the Governor, etc. Mr. (39) 40 MARTHA WASHINGTON. Chamberlayne, on whose domain the officer had just landed, would hear no excuse. Colonel Washington was a name and character so dear to all Virginians, that his passing by one of the old estates of Virginia without calling and partaking of the hospitalities of the host was entirely out of the question. The Colonel, however, did not surrender at discretion, but stoutly maintained his ground, till Chamberlayne brought up his reserve in the intimation that he would introduce his friend to a young and charming widow then beneath his roof. The sol- dier capitulated on condition that he should dine, only dine, and then, by pressing his charger, and borrowing of the night, he would reach Williamsburg before his Excellency could shake off his morning slumbers. Orders were accordingly issued to Bishop, the Colonel's body-servant and faithful follower, who, together with a fine English charger, had been bequeathed by the dying Braddock to Major Washington on the famed and fated field of the Monongahela. Bishop, bred in the school of European discipline, raised his hand to his cap, as much as to say, 'Your honor's orders shall be obeyed.' The Colonel now proceeded to the mansion, and was introduced to various guests (for when was a Virginia domicil of the olden time without guests?), and, above all, to the charming widow. Tradition relates that they were mutually pleased on tliis their first interview, nor is it remarkable; they were of an age when impressions are strongest. The lady was fair to behold, of fasci- natino- manners, and splendidly endowed with woiridly. WASHINGTON, THE LOVER. 41 benefits; the hero, fresh from his early fields redolent of fame, and with a form on which 'every god did seem to set his seal, to give the world assurance of a man.' The morning passed pleasantly away; evening came, with Bishop, true to his orders and firm at his post, holding the favorite charger with the one hand, while the other was waiting to offer the ready stirrup. The sun sank in the horizon, and yet the Colonel appeared not, and then the old soldier wondered at his chief's delay. 'Twas strange; 'twas passing strange. Surely he was not wont to be a single moment behind his appointments, for he was the most punctual of all punc- tual men. Meantime, the host enjoyed the scene of the veteran on duty at the gate, while the Colonel was so agreeably employed in the parlor; and proclaiming that no guest ever left his hoiise after sunset, his military visitor was, without much difficulty, persuaded to order Bishop to put up the horses for the night. The sun rode high in the heavens the ensuing day when the enamored soldier pressed with his spur his charger's sides and sped on his way to the seat of government, when, having despatched his public business, he retraced his steps, and at her country-seat, the White House, after which the home of the Presidents was called, the engage- ment took place, with arrangements for the marriage." It is pleasant to remember that, with all the privations and hardships endured by both in after-years, they never encountered poverty. When Colonel Washington mar- ried Mrs. Custis, the ceremony was performed under 42 MARTHA WASHINGTON. the roof of her own home, and the broad lands about it were but a part of her large estate. Immediately after their wedding, which has been described repeatedly as a most joyous and happy affair, in which every belle and beau for miles around took part, they repaired at once to Mount Vernon. Here for seventeen brigrht and beautiful years they enjoyed the society of relatives and friends, and the constant companionship of each other. During those years of prosperity, Mrs. Wash- ington had ample opportunity to manifest that ele- gance of manner for which she was remarkable. In her girlhood, as Miss Dandridge, she had enjoyed the best society of Williamsburg, and during Gov- ernor Dinwiddle's residence there, she had been one of the most popular and admired of the many bloom- ine Sfirls who had rendered the court of the Governor attractive. Nothinof remains to us of her childhood save an in- distinct 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 lady. That she was educated after the exigency of her time, at home, is likewise a truth gathered from the echoes of the past generation. Virginia in those early days — for she was born in May, 1732 — possessed no educational facili- ties, and the children of the wealthy were either sent abroad for accomplishments unattainable in their native * She was a descendant of the Rev. Orlando Jones, a clergyman of Wales. y^ lfc.//x.o^^/i^ MARRIED TO COLONEL CUSTIS. 43 land, or put under die care of tutor or governess at home. Such knowledge as she possessed of the world was gleaned from the few books she read, and the society of her father's friends, for she had never been farther from home than Williamsburg. She is first mentioned as a rustic beauty and belle at the British Governor's residence, and was there mar- ried, when very young, to Colonel Custis. After her marriaofe her home was not far distant from her father's plantation, and these fleeting years were so fraught with every conceivable blessing that her young heart asked no other boon. Endeared to each other by the warm- est affection, her time spent in dispensing that hos- pitality 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 man, of emi- nently polished and agreeable manners, and the pos- sessor of a generous nature, which rendered him widely popular. The congenial couple lived in happy contentment in the enjoyment of their own and their children's society, surrounded by friends, and the pos- sessors of all those creature comforts which add so essentially to the pleasures of existence. They had three children, the eldest of whom was a son, unusually endowed with mental gifts, and giving promise of a bright future. His health was not good, and though watched over with continuous care and forethoujzht he died, and his untimely death hastened the disease already manifest in his father's system. Colonel Custis 44 MARTHA WASHINGTON. died of consumption a short time afterward, and thus was the wife and mother deprived of her companion, whose affection was in keeping with his many virtues and elevated mind, and the boy whose existence had first called into being all the deathless love of a mother. Time soothed the wounds naught else could heal, and the young widow discharged the duties that belonged to her position. The trust her husband reposed in her — in leaving their large property in her own hands to control — she amply vindicated, and her estate was one of the best managed in the county. When she met Colonel Washington she was twenty-six years of age, and was remarkably youthful in appearance and very handsome. She had ever been the object of warm and disinterested affection, and from her first entrance into the society of Williamsburg, down to the last hour of her life, it was eminently illustrated. Few had been her sorrows, and for each and every one endured she could count a twofold blessing. There was nothing in her life to foster the faults incident to human nature, for the rank weeds of poverty and lack of opportunity, which cramp and deform so many earth-lives, were un- felt and unknown to her. Mount Vernon was the gift to Colonel Washington from his elder and bachelor brother Lawrence, and the estate was then one of the finest in Virginia. Wash- inorton had made it his occasional residence before his marriage, but it was not until he took his bride there that it became his permanent home. The life that Mrs. AT MOUNT VLRNON. 45 Washington led there was similar in outward circum- stances to her former position as Mrs. Custis, for she was again the wife of a wealthy, prosperous planter, the centre of the refined society of the county. The same- ness of country life was interrupted by her frequent trips with her husband to Williamsburg, where he was for fifteen successive years a member of the Legis- lature. "How noiseless falls the foot of time Thai only treads on flowers! " Engaged in fascinating pleasures and congenial pur- suits, it did not occur to Mrs. Washington how many summers of fragrandy blooming flowers and ripening fruits had sunk into the unreturning past; nor did she consider that the long term of years in which she had been so happy had meted to others measured drops of bitterness, turnincr all their harvest-times into chilline, dreary winter. There came to her a time when the pleasant home-life had to be abandoned, and for eight years the harmony of domestic peace was banished. The following letter, the only one preserved of the many addressed to her, is full of interest, and is replete with that thoucrhtfulness which characterized Washineton in his capacity as a husband. Mrs. Washington, shortly before her death, destroyed every testimonial of this kind, unwilling that any other should read these evi- dences of affection: "Philadelphia, i%th Jtate, 1775. " My Dearest: I am now set down to write to you on 46 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 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 Congress that the whole army raised for the defence of the American cause shall be put under my 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 seek- ing this 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 from a consciousness of its being a trust too great for my capacity, and that I should enjoy more real happiness in one month with you at home, than I have the most distant prospects of finding abroad if my stay were to be seven times seven years. But as it has been a kind of destiny tliat has thrown me upon this service, I shall hope that my under- taking 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, 1 am sure, could not and ought not to be pleasing to you, and must have lessened me considerably in my THE AFFECTION OF WASHINGTON. 47 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. I therefore beg that you will summon your whole forti- tude, 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 pursue any plan that is most likely to produce content and a toler- able degree of tranquillity, as it must add greatly to my uneasy feelings to hear that you are dissatisfied or com. plaining at what I really could not avoid, "As life is always uncertain, and common prudence dictates to every man the necessity of settling his tem- poral concerns while it is in his power, I have, since I came to this place — for I had no time to do it before 1 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 re- member 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 48 MARTHA WASHINGTON. prolonged to weary months. Ever when the long Indian summer days of October shed glory over the burnished forest trees, her cumbrous carnage with its heavy hang- ings and massive springs, suggestive 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 ser- vants cooked and packed for this too oft-repeated ab- sence, they wished it might hurry him home, to remember how many were needing his presence there. The bat- tles were fierce and the struggles long, and if the orderly matron disliked the necessity of leaving home so often and for so long a time, her heart was glad of the sacri- fice when she reached the doubly anxious 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 free- dom. It was her presence that gave comfort to the oft- times dispirited commander, and sent a gleam of sun- shine to the hearts of the officers, who saw in her coming the harbinger of their own happiness. 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, invari- ably wrote to persons who had been attentive and oblig- ing, and punctually 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 INSULTED BY THE LADIES OF PHILADELPIHA. 49 yearly moves been disagreeable, and diough universally unoffending, she felt die painful effects of party bitter- ness ; but the noble intrepidity of General Washington relieved the depressing influences of such unusual occur- rences. Her own pride suffered nothing in comparison to the natural sensitiveness 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 a disastrous campaign, as she was passing through Phila- delphia, she was insulted by the ladies there, who declined nodcing her by any civilities whatever. The tide in the affairs of men came, and, alas for human nature! man) of these haughty matrons were the first to welcome her there as the wife of the President. Mrs. Washington was unostentatious in her dress, and displayed little taste for those luxurious ornaments deemed appropriate for the wealthy and great. In her own home the spinning wheels and looms were kept constantly going, and her dresses were, many times, woven by her servants. General Washington wore at his inaucru ration, a full suit of fine cloth, the handiwork of his own household. At a ball given in New Jersey in honor to herself, she wore a "simple russet gown," and white handkerchief 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 miqrht have desired. " On one occasion she o-ave the best proof of her success in domestic manufactures, by the exhibition of two of her dresses, which were com- 4 50 MARTHA WASHINGTON. ff posed of cotton, striped with silk, and entirely home- made. The silk stripes in the fabric were woven from the ravelines of brown silk stockingfs and old crimson chair-covers ! " When peace was declared and her mantle folded round the suffering young Republic, Mrs. Washington wel- comed to Mount Vernon her hero-husband, who natur- ally 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 who 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 was the bosom companion of the "Father of his Country;" but her fame as Martha Dandridge, and afterwards as Martha Custis, is due alone to her moral worth. To her, as a girl and woman, belonged beauty, accomplishments, and great sweetness of disposition. Nor should we, in ascribing her imper- ishable memory to her husband's 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 by writers when speaking of Mrs. Washing- ton. In tracing the life of an individual, it becomes ne- cessary to examine the great events and marked incidents of the times, and generally to 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 HER PERSONAL ATTRIBUTES. 5 1 valorous exploits which affected the condition of man- kind. Personally, Mrs. Washington's life was a smooth and even existence, save as it was stirred by some nat- ural cause, but viewed in connection with the historical events of her day, it became one of peculiar interest. As a wife, mother, and friend, she was worthy of re- spect, but save only as the companion of Washington is her record of public interest. She was in nowise a student, hardly a regular reader, nor gifted with literary ability ; but if stern necessity had forced her from her seclusion and luxury, hers would have been a career of active effort and goodness. Most especially would she have been a benevolent woman, and it is to be regretted by posterity as a misfortune that there was no real urgency for a more useful life. Her good fortune it was to be wealthy, of good family, young and attrac- tive ; 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 pursuit of knowl- edcre, under the difficulties and obstacles of a life in a new country, together with their early marriages, de- terred women from "drinking deep of the Pierean spring;" but, under the benign influences of Christian morality, the maidens of the Old Dominion were care- fully and virtuously trained, and were exemplary daugh- ters, wives, and mothers. Many have occupied the nominal position Mrs. Wash- ington held, but, in reality, no American, or, indeed, no woman of earth, will ever be so exalted in the hearts of V\B^"^ ..T.-NtRS\T< 52 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 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 inti- mately 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 husband's control, whose method and love of domestic life admirably fitted him to manage a large es- tablishment. They evidendy lived together on very ex- cellent terms, though she sometimes was disposed to quarrel with him about the grandchildren, who he in- sisted (and he always carried the point) should be under thorough disciplinarians, as well as competent teachers, when they were sent from home to be edu- cated." It was a source of regret that she bore no children to him, but an able writer has said : " Providence left him childless that he might be the father of his country." It is hard to judge whether or not It was a blessing ; but it certainly has not detracted from his greatness that he left no successor to his fame. On the contrary, it is all the brighter from having no cloud to dim the solitary gran- deur of his spotless name. Few sons of truly great and illustrious men have ever reflected honor upon their fathers and many have done otherwise. When we con- sider how many representative men of the world. In all nations and ages, have been burdened and oppressed with the humiliating conduct of their children, let it be a DEATH OF MISS CUSTIS. 53 source of joy, rather than of regret, that there was but OJie Washhigton, either by the ties of consanguinity or the will of Providence. This character was never marred by any imperfect type of its own, and in Washington's life we recognize the fact that occasional!}', in great emer- gencies, God lifts up a man for the deed; when the career is ended, the model, though not the example, is lost to the world. Mrs. Washington's two children (Martha and John Parke Custis) were with her the bright years of her life intervenincr between her marriage and the Revo- lution. Her daucrhter was fast budding into woman- hood, and how beautiful, thought the loving mother, were the delicate outlines of her fair young face! Airy castles and visionary scenes of splendor reared their grand proportions in the twilight-clouds of her imagination; and in the sunlight of security she saw not, or, if perchance did define, the indistinct outlines of the spectre, grim and gaunt, heeded not its significant appearance at her festive board. In all the natural charms of youth, freshness, and worldly possessions, the mother's idol, the brother's play- mate, and father's cherished daughter, died, and the light of the house went out, and a wail of anguish filled the air as the night winds rushed hurryingly past that deso- late home on the shore of the murmuring river. A great purpose was born out of that grief: a self- abnegated firmness to rise above the passionate lamen- tations of selfish sorrow; and though afterward, for 54 MARTHA WASHINGTON. years, the shadow of a past woe rested upon that famous home, the poor loved it better than ever before, and meek charity found more wilHng hands than in the days of reckless happiness. Religion, too, and winning sympathy, softened the poignant grief, and " The fates unwound the ball of time. And dealt it out to man." The cannon of the Continental Militia at Lexington belched forth its hoarse sound on the mornino- of the 19th of April, 1775, as in the gray twilight of approach- ing day a band of invaders sallied up to demand the dis- persion of the rebels. The echo of those reports went rincfinsr throuorh the distant forests, and fleetest couriers carried its tidings beyond the rippling waves of the Po- tomac, calling the friends of freedom to arms. Mrs. Washington heard the war-cry, and felt that the absence of her husband was now indefinite; for she knew that from his post in the councils of the nation he would go to serve his country in the field. Nor was she mistaken in her conclusions. She met the Commander-in-chief at his winter head- quarters at Cambridge, after an absence of nearly a year, in December, i 775, and remained with him until opening of the spring campaign. During the Revolution she continued to spend each winter with him at his head- quarters. Early in this year she returned to her home, leaving behind her son, John Parke Custis, who had been with his adopted father from the beginning of the war AT VALLEY FORGE. 55 The next winter she passed at Morrlstovvn, New Jersey, where she experienced some of the real hardships and sufferings of camp Hfe. The previous season, at Cam- bridge, the officers and their families had resided in the mansions of the Tories, who had deserted them to join the British; but at Morristown she occupied a small frame-house, without any convenience or comforts, and, as before, returned in the spring, with her daughter-in- law and children, to Mount Vernon.* Valley Forge, during the last months of 1777 and the early part of 1778, was the scene of the severest suffer- ings, replete with more terrible want than any ever known in the history of the Colonies.-}- During all this winter of horrors, Mrs. Washington remained with her husband, trying to comfort and ani- mate him in the midst of his trials. Succeeding years brought the same routine, and victory and defeat walked ofttimes hand in hand. October of 17S1 brought glad tidings of great joy, in the capture 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 listen- ing ear of a continent. Colonel Custis was borne from * Mr. John Parke Custis was married to Miss Nelly Calvert the third of Fel^ruary, 1774- f Six miles above Novristown, Pennsylvania, and twenty from Philadelphia, on the Schuylkill river, is the deep hollow known as Valley Forge. It is situated at the mouth of V^alley creek, and on either side rise the mountains above this lonely .spot. To the fact that in this valley there had once been several forges, it owes its name, and here Washington found winter-quarters for his suffering army. 56 MARTHA WASHINGTON. the scene of triumph to a village in New Kent county to die, and soon the messenger startled the wife and mother at Mount Vernon with the mournful intelligence. Washington, amid the intense joy of his troops, could not conceal his anxious feelino-s over the condition of this deeply loved son of his adoption, and his heart went out to his crushed wife, so soon to be widowed, and to Mrs. Washington, who idolized the son of her youth. "He left Yorktown on the 5th of November,- and reached, the same day, the residence of his old friend. Colonel Bassett. He arrived just in time to receive the last breath of John Parke Custis, as he had several years previously rendered tender and pious offices at the death-bed of his sister, Miss Custis. The deceased had been the object of Washington's care from childhood, and been cherished by him with paternal affection. Reared under his guidance and instructions, he had 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 unexpected event, and the dying scene was rendered peculiarly affecting from the presence of the mother and wife of the deceased. Wash- ington remained several days at Eltham to comfort them in their affliction. As a consolation to Mrs. Washington 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." JOURNEY TO NEW YORK. 57 Mrs. Washinofton did not know diat 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 demands of his country for his services. Congress received him in Philadelphia with distinguished honors, and he every- where was the recipient of his country's love and rev- erence. Called from his retirement to preside over the des- tinies of his country as its first President, Washington immediately left his 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 command respect in the eyes of foreign courts ; and, acting in accordance with this design, the house of the first Pres- ident was furnished with elegance, and its routine was arranged in as formal a manner as that of St. James or St. Cloud. Always an aristocrat, Mrs. Washington's administra- tion as hostess was but a reproduction of the customs and ceremonies of foreign heads of government, and her *The journey to New York was a continued triumph. The august spectacle at the bridge of Trenton brought tears to the eyes of the Chief, and forms one of the most brilliant recollections of the age of Washington. 58 MARTHA WASHINGTON. receptions were arranged on the plan of the EngHsh and French drawina;-rooms. She assumed the duties of her position, as wife of the Chief Maeistrate, with the twofold advantao^e of wealth and high social position, and was, in manner, appearance and character, a pleasing and graceful representative of American womanhood. Reared as she had been, a descendant of the chivalry of Virginia, who in their turn were the descendants 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 levees held at the Republican Court — then located at No. 3 Franklin Square, New York — were numerously attended by the fashionable and refined of the city. The rules of the establishment were rigorous, and persons were excluded unless in the dress required. Access was not easy, and dignified stateliness reigned over the mansion of the first President of the United States. The subjoined letter, written to Mrs. Warren soon after Mrs. Washington's arrival at the seat of government, will present her views on the subject of her elevation more correctly than could be given other- wise. "Your very friendly letter of last month has afforded me much more satisfaction than all the formal compli- ments and empty ceremonies of mere etiquette could VIEWS ON HER ELEVATION. 59 possibly have done. I am not apt to forget the feelings which have been inspired by my former society with good acquaintances, nor to be insensible to their ex- pressions 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 affec- tion to him oriorinate in that source, I cannot denv 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 owinc: to the kindness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my new and unwished-for situation is not a burden to me. When I was much younger, I should probably have enjoyed the innocent gayeties of life as much as most persons of my 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 circum- stances could possibly happen which would call the General into public life again. I had anticipated 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, con- template with too much regret, disappointments that were inevitable, though his feelings and my own were in perfect unison with respect to our predilection for private life ; yet I cannot blame him for having acted 60 MARTHA WASHINGTON. 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 compensa- tion for the great sacrifices which I know he has made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon to this place, in his late tour through the Eastern States, by every public and every private information which has come to him, I am persuaded he has experienced nothing to make him repent his having acted from what he con- ceives to be a sense of indispensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility has been awakened in receiv- ing such repeated and unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his countr)'men. With respect to myself, I sometimes think the arrangement is not quite as it ought to have been ; that I, who had much rather be at home, should occupy a place with which a great many younger and gayer women would be extremely pleased. As my grandchildren and domestic connections 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 station, for everybody and everything conspire to make me as contented as possible in it ; yet 1 have learned too much of the vanity of human affairs to expect felicity from the scenes of public life. I am still determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever nilLADELPHIA AS SEAT OF GOVERNMENT. 6 1 situation I may be; for I have also learned from expe- rience 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, wherever 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 lonof time Presi- dent of Princeton College, and one of the early Chap- lains of Congress, in speaking of the seat of govern- ment, said: "After a gfreat deal of writing and talkincr and controversy about the permanent seat of Congress under the present Constitution, it was determined that Philadelphia should be honored with its presence for ten years, and afterward the permanent location should be in the city of Washington, where it now is. In the meantime, the Federal city was in building, and the Legislature of Pennsylvania voted a sum of money to build a house for the President, perhaps with 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 University of Pennsylvania, was the structure erected for the purpose. But as soon as General Washington saw its dimensions, and a good while 64 MARTHA WASHINGTON, the Presidential mansion; and the ex-Commander-in- chief paid his former companions in arms the compli- ment to wear the old Continental uniform." The grandchildren of Mrs, Washington were her only companions during the President's long absences m 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. Washing- ton during 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 sitdng 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 agreeable countenance. She had been a handsome woman thirty years before, when, on the 6th of January, 1759, she was married to Colonel Wash- ington; and in an admirable picture of her by Wool- aston, painted about the same time, is seen something of that pleasing grace which is said to have been her distinction. During these years of her married life, she had enjoyed ample opportunity to cultivate that elegance of manner for which she was conspicuous, and to develop those conversational powers which ren- dered her so attractive. Washington, ever quiet and reserved in manner, depended on her; and her tact and gentle womanly politeness relieved him from the irksome duties of hospitality when business called him THE FIRST LEVEE IX ITIILADELPIIIA. 65 elsewhere. His first levee, the Marchioness D'Yuro wrote to a friend in New York, was brilliant beyond anything that could be imagined. She adds: You never could have had such a drawinof-room; and thouoh there was a crreat deal of extravagfance, there was so much of Philadelphia tact in everything that it must have been confessed the most delii^htful occasion of the kind ever known in this country. 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 daughter of Mrs. Blnney, who resided opposite the President'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 secre- taries, 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 observed them conversing, and often wondered and watched as a child to see if any of the party spoke, but never per- ceived that anything 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. 64 r\IARTHA WASHINGTON. the Presidential mansion; and the ex-Commander-in- chief paid his former companions in arms the compH- ment to wear the old Continental uniform." The grandchildren of Mrs. Washington 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. Washing- ton during 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 sittinof at her rio^ht 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 agreeable countenance. She had been a handsome woman thirty years before, when, on the 6th of January, 1759, she was married to Colonel Wash- ington; and in an admirable picture of her by Wool- aston, painted about the same time, is seen something of that pleasing grace which is said to have been her distinction. During these years of her married life, she had enjoyed ample opportunity to cultivate that elegance of manner for which she was conspicuous, and to develop those conversational powers which ren- dered her so attractive. Washington, ever quiet and reserved in manner, depended on her; and her tact and gentle womanly politeness relieved him from the irksome duties of hospitality when business called him THE FIRST LEVEE IN PHILADELPHIA. 65 elsewhere. His first levee, the Marchioness D'Yuro wrote to a friend in New York, was brilliant beyond anything- that could be imagined. She adds: You never could have had such a drawinir-rooin; and though there was a sfreat deal of cxtravacrance, there was so much of Philadelphia tact in everything that it must have been confessed the most delisjhtful occasion of the kind ever known in this country. 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 daughter of Mrs. Binney, who resided opposite the President's house, we have some interesting accounts. She says: "It was the General's custom frequendy, when the day was fine, to come out to walk attended by his secre- taries, 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 observed them conversing, and often wondered and watched as a child to see if any of the party spoke, but never per- ceived that anything was said. He was always dressed in black, and all three wore cocked hats. "It was Mrs. Washington's custoni 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. 66 MARTHA WASHINGTON. Lear." " Her manners were very easy, pleasant, and unceremonious, with the characteristics of other Vir- ginia ladies." An English manufacturer breakfasted with the President's family on the 8th of June, 1794. "I confess," he says, "I was struck with awe and vener- ation when I recollected that I was now in the presence of the great Washington, 'the noble and wise bene- factor 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 accommodation. He was at this time in his sixty-third year, but had very little the appear- ance of age, having 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 understand they were both born the same year. She was extremely simple in her dress, and wore a very plain cap, with her gray hair turned up under it." 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 RETURN TO MOUNT VERNON. 67 to bloom, the 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, to it, and when he reached the wharf the cannon pealed forth a welcome. Passing along the Georgetown road, he halted in front of the .locality intended as a residence for the President, where workmen were then laying the foundation of the building. 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 re- cently standing. Washington alludes to him in one of his letters as the "obstinate Mr, Burns;" and it is re- lated that, when the President was dwelling upon the advantage he would derive from the sale, the old man replied, "I suppose you think people here are going to take every grist that comes from you as pure grain; but what would you have been if you hadn't married the widow Custis?" Mount Vernon was constantly thronged with visitors; 68 MARTHA WASHINGTON. and to the "Correspondence of Washington/' which, during these last two years of his hfe,, are very volum- inous, we are indebted for many items of public and private interest. But a blow was in store for the con- tented 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 December, 1799, re- sulted in the death of the deeply loved husband. A wail of anguish went up from the nation as the direful news flew by each hut and hamlet; but in that hallowed room, forever consecrated, the bereaved woman who has lost her all sits calmly serene. She suspects that * he is dead, for the doctor and Mr. Lear are gazing at each other in mute anguish; aod rising from her low seat at the foot of his bed, she sees the limbs are com- posed and the breath gone. O agony! what is there so fearful to a clinsrino- woman's heart as to see the stronof, lovincf arm that enfolded her cold and stiff for- ever? The cover is straightened as he fixed It, and his face is composed after the violent struggle; but what is this appearance of triumph to the desolate wife, who gasps for breath like one drowning as she totters to his side? Yet the sweet expression calms her; perhaps she is thinking of how he would have her do if his spirit could only speak. Whatever of inward peace receiving, there Is a determined effort at control perceptible, and she is saying, "'Tis well; all is now over. I shall soon follow him. I have no miore trials to pass through." One long look, as if her hungry soul was obtaining food DEATH OF WASHINGTON. 69 to feed on through all eternity, and she Is assisted from the room. How full of holy memories must that cham- ber of death have been to her as she summoned courage to turn and drink in the last look ! The oreat fireside, with the smouldering embers dying Into ashes gray, the quaint old mantel, all covered with vials and ap- pendages of a sick apartment, their easy-chairs side by side, one deserted forever, and upon the bed lay the form of her friend and companion. It was wrong to let her stand there and suffer so, but her awe-stricken appearance paralyzes the stoutest heart, and they only stand and wait. 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 An- other room receives her ; another fire Is built for her : and in the endless watches of that black niorht she mastered the longings of her heart, and never more crossed the threshold of that chamber of her loved and lost. A sickeninof feelincr of utter loneliness and deso- latlon 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 no more that she should go back to the old apartment she had occu- pied all her married life. " 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 Washing- ton be requested to permit his body to be deposited under It, and that the monument be so designed as to 70 MARTHA WASHINGTON. commemorate the great events of his military and polit- ical Hfe. And it further resolved, "That there be a funeral procession from Congress Hall to the German Lutheran Church in honor of the memory of General George Washington, on Thursday, the 26th inst, and that an oration be prepared at the 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 Representatives be desired to request one of the members of Congress to prepare and deliver the same. And it further resolved, "That the President of the United States be re- quested to direct a copy of the resolutions to be trans- mitted to Mrs. Washington, assuring her of the pro- found respect Congress will ever bear to her person and character; of their condolence on the late afflicting Dispensation of Providence, and entreating her assent to the interment of the remains of General George Washington in the manner expressed in the first reso- lution. And it further resolved, "That the President of the United States be re- quested to issue a Proclamation notifying the People throughout the United States the recommendation con- tained in the third resolution." In reply to the above resolutions, which were trans- mitted by the President (John Adams) on the 23d Dec, 1799, Mrs. Washington says: Mount Vernon, Dec. 2,\st, 1799. "Sir: — While I feel with keenest anguish the late MOUNT VERNON THE MONUMENT. 7 I dispensation of Divine Providence, I cannot be insensible 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, affords no inconsiderable consolation. " Taught by that great example w^hich I have so long- had before me, never to oppose 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 is not yet erected, and the remains are still at Mount Vernon, their most fitting resting-place. The twofold duties of life pressed constantly upon her, nor did she shirk any claim. Yet the compressed lip, and the oftentimes quivering eyelid betrayed the rest- less moanings of her aching heart. 72 MARTHA WASHINGTON. It has been remarked that she resembled Washington in manners and person ; she was hke him as every weaker nature is Hke a stronger one Hving 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 imperceptibly grew like his, and the tones of her voice sounded wonderfully similar. Imbibinof the sentiments and teachings of such a nature, her own life was ennobled and his rendered liappy. 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 hear the swell of the pean she was yet to sing in heaven. Her life was passed in seasons of darkness, as of glorious, refulgent happiness, and was contempor- aneous 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 individuality. But she did not aspire to any nobler ambition than merely to per- form the duties of her home, and she lives in the A DESOLATE WOMAN. 73 memories ot her descendants, and in the hearts of the people of the United States, as the wife of the ilkistrious Father of his Country, and the first in position of the women of the Revolution. In the enofravinof we have before us, taken while in the Executive Mansion, we trace the gradual develop- ment of her life. All the 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. How expressive of sympathy and kind- ness 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 spiritual development and fondly believed herself strong and self-reliant. But when she was tested, when the earthly support was removed, the inward strength was insufficient, and she pined under the loss until she died. 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 her earthly happiness. Her children, their father, the faithful, affectionate, sympathizing friend and counsellor, with whom through so many years she had stood side by side in great 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 74 MARTHA WASHINGTON. side of the hill unnerved her. She stood, the desolate survivor, like a lone sentinel upon a deserted battle-field, regarding in mute despair the fatal destruction of hope, and love, and joy. I'hrough 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 upon her soul, And cheered the passing hours so sad, so lone, As on they rolled." Thirty months numbered themselves among eternity'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 death, was reaching the goal of its long felt desire. The gentle spirit was striving to free itself, and the glad light in the dim eye asserted the pleasure experienced in the knowledo-e of the coming change. For many months Mrs. Washington had been growing more gloomy and silent than ever before, and the friends who orathered about her called her actions strancre and incomprehensible. She stayed much alone, and declined every offer of company, but the last days of her life she seemed more cheerful and contented. When the end came on that bright, spring morning in 1801 she gave her blessing to all about her, and sank quietly to rest, in the seventy-first year of her age, and the third of her widowhood. A VISIT TO MOUNT VERNON. 75 Her resting-place beside her husband is, like Mecca and Jerusalem, the resort of the travellers of all nations, who, wandering in its hallowed precincts, imbibe anew admiration and veneration for the immortal genius, whose name is traced in imperishable remembrance in the hearts of his grateful countrymen. Side by side their bodies lie crumbling away, while their spirits have returned to their Author. The placid Potomac kisses the banks of that precious domain, and the ripple of the receding waves makes pleasant music all day along the shore of Mount Vernon. The temptation to see this historic and romantic home of the most beloved of the nation's dead was not to be resisted, and one winter day in company with one of the few surviving relatives who bear that honored name, the start was made from Washintrton. Although the weather was cold and disagreeable, with a threatening aspect of a snow-storm, we found the little vessel filled with pilgrims, bound to the tomb of Washington. This trip is one of intense interest, and particularly since the events of the civil war have given to all the locality additional attraction. Arlington, Alexandria, and Fort Washington ! what memories are stirred by mention of these names, and how acute is remembrance when we stand face to face with these places. The old common- wealth is dear to every generous American, whether of northern or southern birth, but more especially to the people of the South, whose ancestors fondly termed it the "motherland." 76 MARTHA WASHINGTON. It was the quaint look of the place which appealed strongest to the senses, and the fact that it is long past a century old, its foundation having been laid in 1748. The boat anchored at Alexandria, and we gazed wistfully up those streets through which Washington had often passed, and looked in vain to see some "vast and ven- erable pile, so old it seemed only not to fall," but the residences of most of the old inhabitants are the abodes of wealth, and they exhibit evidences of care and pres- ervation. Alexandria was early a place of some note, for five 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 unfortunate commander. But the reminiscences which the Alexan- drians most cherish are those which associate their town with the domestic attachments and habits of Washington, and the stranger is still pointed to the church of which he was vestryman ; to the pew in which he customarily sate ; and many striking memorials of his varied life are carefully preserved." That old church where Washington and his wife were wont to worship, how tenderly it is looked upon now, and with what hallowed feelings ! All the commonplace HALLOWED ASSOCL\TIONS. 77 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 throughout the world. There is another church at which one feels these ennoblincr 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 Wash- inofton Irvinof offered the adoration of his Guileless heart. His beaudfully expressed admiration of Wash- ington possibly occasioned the constant comparison, and to many 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 landed at the wharf, it shone brightly upon us. Winding round the hill, following a narrow pathway, we reached the tomb before the persons who had taken the carriage-way came in view, but preferring to examine it last, we continued the meandering path to the front of the house. It had been the home, in early youth, of the person who accompanied me, and, listening to her explanations and descriptions, an interest was felt which could not otherwise have been summoned. The house is bare 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 V'^ernon house was built by Lawrence Wash- ington, brother to the General ; the wings were added by the General, and the whole named after Admiral 78 MARTHA WASIIIXGTON. Vernon, under whom Lawrence Washington had served. The dininor-room on the ricrht contains the Carrara marble mantle-piece sent from Italy to Generaf Wash- ington. It is elaborately carved and is adorned with Siehna marble columns ; Canova is said to be the artist who carved it. We feel ashamed to add, it is cased in w^ire-work to prevent its being demolished by injudicious, 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 adorn- ments of the mansion. The piazza reaches from the ground to the eaves of the roof, and is guarded on the top by a bright and tasteful balustrade ; the pillars are large and present a simple and grand idea to the mind. Beneath this 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 bereft of every thing save the mantle-piece ; just above is the apartment in which she breathed her dying blessing. A narrow stair-case leads from the door of his room, which was never entered by her after his death. The green-house, once the pride of Mrs. Washington, has since been burned, and there remains but a very small one, put together carelessly to protect the few rare plants remaining. In front of the house, the front facing the orchards, and not the river, is a spacious lawn surrounded by serpentine walks. On either side, brick A DECAYED HOMESTEAD. 79 walls, all covered with ivy and ancient moss, enclose gar- dens. The one on die 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 grown high and irregular, 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 lifetime 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 interesting 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 barricaded to prevent the intrusion of visitors. The room in which Mrs. Washington died, just above the one occupied by her husband, was locked, and we did not view the room in which she suffered so silendy, and from which her freed spirit sought its friend and mate. The small windows and low ceilings, together with 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 8o MARTHA WASHINGTON. 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 interesting room in any house, should be doubly so in this home of Washington's ; but, bare of all save the empty cases in the wall, 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 otherwise have. Here, early In the morning and late at night, he worked continuously, keeping up his increasing correspondence and managing his vast responsibilities. 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, and said in reply to a member of his family as he passed out, who urged him to do something for it, " No, you know I never take any thing for a cold. Let It go as it came." The winds and rains of eighty-odd years have beaten upon that sacred home on the high banks of the silvery waters beneath, since the widowed, weary wife was laid ASSOCIATION OF FAMILIAR SCENES. 8 1 to rest beside her noble dead, and the snows of winter and storms of summer have left its weather-worn and stained front looking like some ghost of other days left alone to tell of its former life and beauty. In its lonely grandeur it stands appealing to us for that reverence born of sentiments, stirred by the recollections of the great and good. There was no resisting the feelings of gloomy depres- sion as we passed out the front toward the river, and took ths path leading to the tomb. Far down the side c: the hill, perched on a knoll surrounded by trees, a summer-house was seen, 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 con- structed across the ravines are fast sinking to ruin, and the swollen stream from the side of die hill dashing against them, was distinctly audible to us as we stood far above. The swallows and bats seem to have built their nests in its forsaken interior, and we were not inclined to molest them. Many times we looked back at the old homestead endeared to every American, and stamped upon memory each portion of its outlines. High above it, the small cupola sported its little glittering weather-vane as brilliant as though it had been gilded but yesterday. Here again was an object which unconsciously associated Washington with his namesake, Washington Irving. In the pleasant sum- 82 MARTHA WASHINGTON. mer-time I had stood in front of the httle " Woolfort's Roost," and enjoyed to the finest fibre of feehng- its lovely simplicity. Above it, too, a little weather-cock coquetted with the wind as it swept down from Tappan 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, embosomed in vines interspersed with delicately tinted fuchsias. Even as we were standing' now lookincr for the first and perhaps the last time upon Mount Vernon, so in the beautiful harvest month v/e 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 full of harmony. When the only approach was by conveyance from Alexandria, the visitors were not so numerous as since the days of a daily steamer from Washington City, and much of the solemnity usually felt for so renowned a spot is marred by the coarse I remarks and thoughtless acts of the many who saunter through the grounds. A gay party of idlers had arranged their eatables upon the stone steps of tlie piazza, and sat in the sun- MOUNT VERNON. 83 shine laughing merrily. Even those old rocks smoothly worn, where so often had stood the greatest of men, were not hallowed nor protected from the selfish convenience 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 orreat, is ennobllnof to sensitive organizations, and to linger over evidences of olden times inspires all generous minds with enthusiasm. The grounds roll downward from the mansion house, and in a green hollow midway between that and th(* 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 Washington ami 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 withered and the door stands open, presenting a deso- late 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, conspired to 84 MARTHA WASHINGTON. freeze every thought of Hfe and beauty, and the mind dwelt upon the rust of decay,* Lafayette stopped at Mount Vernon when about to return to France after his visit to this country, in 1826, havincr reserved for the last his visit to Washington's Tomb, and the scene is thus described by Mr. Seward in his Life of John Ouincy Adams: "When the boat came opposite the tomb of Washing- ton, at Mount Vernon, it paused in its progress. La- fayette arose. The wonders which he had performed for a man of his age, in successfully accomplishing labors enough to have tested his meridian vigor, whose anima- tion rather resembled the spring than the winter of life, now seemed unequal to the task he was about to per- form — to take a last look at 'The Tomb of Washing- ton ! ' "He advanced to the effort. A silence the most im- pressive reigned around, till the strains of sweet and plaintive music completed the grandeur and sacred sol- *This sketch was written previous to the restoration of the place by the Ladies' Mount Vernon Association. Now it has been restored as far as possible, and many old relics have been returned to their apartments. The equestrian portrait of Washington by Rembrandt Peale, the harpsichord which was presented by Wash- ington to his step-daughter, and which is well preserved, together with many old paintings and Revolutionary relics, adorn the once bare rooms. The bed on which Washington died has been restored to its place, and a number of pieces of furniture in the house at the time of Mrs. Washington's death are again there. The grounds have been put in excellent order, and the old farm is cultivated and yields a revenue to the Mount Vernon Ladies' Association, which deserves unbounded credit for res- cuing the grand old place from destruction, and restoring it as far as possible to its former apjiearance and condition. PRINCE OF WALES AT THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. 85 emnity of the scene. All hearts beat in unison with the throbbings of the veteran's bosom, as he looked for the last time on the sepulchre which contained the ashes of the first of men! He spoke not, but appeared absorbed in the mighty recollections which the place and the occa- sion inspired." During the summer of i860, Albert, Prince of Wales, and heir apparent to the throne of England, visited, in company with President Buchanan, the tomb of Wash- ington. Here amid the gorgeous beauties of a southern summer, the grandson of George the Third forgot his royalty in the presence of departed worth; and bent his knee in awe before a mere handful of ashes, which, but for the cold marble encompassing them, would be blown to the four winds of the earth. It was a strange sight to see that bright, youthful form kneeling before the tomb of the Father of his Country, and attesting his ap- preciation of the great spirit which more than any other wrested its broad domains from him. Stealthily the years go by, and we wist not they are passing, yet the muffled and hoarse voice of a century astounds us with its parting. The centennial birthdays have been celebrated; we have passed the hundredth anniversary of victories won and independence 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 upon a Republic of peace. Their bodies we guard, while they crumbled away in the bosom of their birth- S6 MARTHA WASHINGTON. place, and as long as a son of America remains a free- man, it will be a well-spring of inspiration to feel that Virginia contains the Pa/er Patrics and the woman im- mortalized by his love. NOTK. — Mis. Mary Custis Lee, the daughter of George Washington Parke Custis, and granddaughter of Martha Washington, in a letter to the author, written a short time before her death, says of this sketch of her distinguished ancestor : " You will allow me the privilege of making a criticism on your book. ... In the life of Mrs. Washington, which is very interesting and well written, you say she did not pay much attention to her household affairs. Now, on the contrary, she was re- markable for inspecting everything daily, giving out with her own hands the meals, going into her dairy, cellar, etc. I have heard my mother say she always wore a white dimity dress on those occasions ; that it was spotless and served her for a morn- ing dress the whole week. The one put on for dinner answered the same purpose the following week. Having well-trained servants, of course it was not necessary that she should, with her own hands, perform any household duties, as in these times we do." J a n 0)1 J am- m II. ABIGAIL ADAMS. Abigail Smith, the daughter of a New England Con- gregationalist minister, was born at Weymouth, in 1744. Her father 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 neiofhborinof town. The younger years of her life were passed in the quiet seclusion of her grandfather's house; and under the in- structions 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 les- sons which I received from my grandmother 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 members of her own family, and never subjected to the ordinary school routine, her imaginative faculties bade fair to develop at the expense of her judgment, but the austere religion of her ances- tors, and the daily example of strict compliance to forms, prevented the too great indulgence of fancy. She had (87) 90 ABIGAIL ADAMS. daughter's Interest, as far as mental culture was con- cerned, was generally ignored. To aid the mother in manual household labor, and by self-denial and in- creased industry to forward the welfare of the brothers, was the most exalted height to which any woman aspired. To women there was then no career open, no life-work to perform outside the narrow walls of home. Every idea of self-culture was swallowed up in the wearying routine of practical life, and what of knowledge they obtained, was from the society of the learned, and the eagerness with which they treasured and considered the conversations of others. On the 26th 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 among 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 characters were alike strong and remarkable for their intellectual force. The fortunes of two of them confined its influ- ence to a sphere much more limited than that which fell to the lot of Mrs. Adams. Mary, the eldest, was married in 1762 to Richard Cranch, an English emi- grant, who subsequently became a Judge of the Court of Common Pleas in Massachusetts. Elizabeth, the youngest, was twice married ; first to the Reverend John Shaw, minister of Haverhill, and after his death, to the OBJECTIONS TO HER MARRIAGE. 9 1 Reverend Mr. Peabody, of New Hampshire. This an- ecdote is told in connection with the marriage of Mrs. Adams. When her eldest sister was married, her father preached to his people from the text, " And Mary- hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her." The disapprobation to his second daughter's choice was due to the prejudice entertained against the profession of the law. Mr. Adams, besides being a lawyer, was the son of a small farmer of the middle class in Braintree, and was thought scarcely good enough to match with the minister's daughter, descended from a line of ministers in the colony. Mr, Smith's parishioners were outspoken in their opposition, and he replied to them immediately, after the marriage took place, in a sermon, in which he made pointed allusion to the objection against lawyers. His text on this occasion was, " For John came neither eating bread nor drinking wine, and ye say. He hath a devils Mr. Smith, it may be as well to add, was in the habit of making application of texts to events which in any manner interested himself or his cong-recration. In a colony founded so exclusively upon motives of religious zeal as Massachusetts was, it necessarily followed that the ordinary distinctions of society were in a great degree subverted, and that the leaders of the church, though without worldly possessions to boast of, were the most In honor everywhere. If a festive entertain- ment was meditated, the minister was sure to be first on the list of those invited. If any assembly of citizens 92 ABIGAIL ADAMS. was held, he must be there to open the business with prayer. If a political measure was in agitation, he was among the first whose opinions were to be consulted. He was not infrequently the family physician. Hence the objection to Mr. Adams by her friends was founded on the fact that she was the daughter and grand-daugh- ter 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 marriage, during which time little transpired worthy of record. " She appears to have passed an apparently very happy life, having her residence in Braintree, 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 daughter 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 adppted by them. In the month of August, 1774, he left home in company with Samuel Adams, Thomas Cushings, and Robert Treat Paine, to go to Philadelphia, at which place the proposed assembly was to be held. In two months, Mr. Adams was home again. Congress met again in May, 1775, and Mr. Adams returned to Philadelphia to attend it. The long distance was traversed on horseback, and was replete STUDIES FRENCH AT NIGHT, 93 with hardships. At Hartford he heard of the mem- orable incident at Lexington, only five days after his departure from Braintree. Up to this time, the trouble between the two countries had been a dispute, hence- forth it resolved itself into open hostilities. "In November, 1775." says Bancroft, "Abigail Smith, the 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 house- less, and giving with good will a part of her scant portion to the poor ; seeking w'ork for her own hands, and ever busily occupied, now at the spinning wheel, now makinor amends for havinsf never been 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 hospital 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 fore- fathers, buried without prayer. Woe followed woe, and one affliction trod on the heels of another. Winter was hurrying on ; during the day family affairs took off her attention, but her long evenings, broken by the sound 92 ABIGAIL ADAMS. was held, he must be there to open the business with prayer. If a political measure was in agitation, he was among the first whose opinions were to be consulted. He was not infrequently the family physician. Hence the objection to Mr. Adams by her friends was founded on the fact that she was the daughter and grand-daugh- ter 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 marriage, during which time little transpired worthy of record. " She appears to have passed an apparently very happy life, having her residence in Braintree, 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 daughter 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 Samuel Adams, Thomas Cushings, and Robert Treat Paine, to go to Philadelphia, at which place the proposed assembly was to be held. In two months, Mr. Adams was home again. Congress met again in May, 1775, and Mr. Adams returned to Philadelphia to attend it. The long distance was traversed on horseback, and was replete STUDIES FRENCH AT NIGHT. 93 with hardships. At Hartford he heard of the mem- orable incident at Lexington, only five days after his departure from Braintree. Up to this time, the trouble between the two countries had been a dispute, hence- forth it resolved itself into open hostilities. "In November, 1775," says Bancroft, "Abigail Smith, the wife of John Adams, was at her home near the foot of Penn Hill, charged with the sole care of their litde brood of children ; managing their farm ; keeping house with frugality, though opening her doors to the house- less, 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 makinof amends for havine" never been 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 sdll weak after a violent illness ; her house was a hospital 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 fore- fathers, buried without prayer. Woe followed woe, and one affliction trod on the heels of another. Winter was hurrying on ; during the day family affairs took off her attention, but her long evenings, broken by the sound 94 ABIGAIL ADAMS. of the Storm on the ocean, or the enemy's artillery at Boston, were lonesome and melancholy. Ever in the silent night ruminating on the love and tenderness of her departed parent, she needed the consolation of her husband's presence ; but w^hen 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 intelligence will make a plain path for you, though a dangerous one. I could not join to-day in the petitions of our worthy pastor for a reconciliation between our no longer parent 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 formerlj', 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 sicrht of the can- nonading at Boston, discovers a mind strong, and a 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 mourning the loss of three, four, and five children, and some families are wholly stripped of every member." WORDS OF PATRIOTISM. 95 December found Mr. Adams once more at home to cheer his suffering family, but Congress demanded his presence, and after a stay of one month, he returned again to the halls of the nation. March came, and her anxious, solitary life was in nowise brightened. The distance, in those days of slow travel and bad roads, 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 o-arret. It was no time for calm thoughts now, and she left her letter unfinished to oo out and watch the lurid lights that flashed and disappeared in the distance. Next morning she walked to Penn's Hill, where she sat listening to the amazing roar, and watching the British shells as they fell round about the camps of her friends. Her home at the foot of the hill Avas all her earthly wealth, and the careful husbanding of each year's 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 repinings, 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 sublime. 'Tis now an incessant roar. To-nipfht we 96 ABIGAIL ADAMS. shall realize a more terrible scene still ; I wish myself with you out of hearing, as I cannot assist them, but I hope to give you joy of Boston, even if it is in ruins before I send this away." But events were not ordered as she feared, and the result was more glorious than she dared hope. All 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 little satisfaction, since it was to an- nounce the sad truth that he had been chosen Minister 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 carry 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 he finally 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 civil war 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 when they can with propriety extend their exer- tions beyond the domestic hearth. Only through the imagination can they give unlimited scope to those AN ENVIABLE RECORD. 97 powers which the world until recently has never under- stood, and which are even now but' dimly defined. Had mankind given them the privileges of a liberal education, and freedom to carve their own destiny, to what dazzling heights would a mind so naturally gifted as Mrs. Adams', have attained? Circumscribed 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 husband'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 children and domestics, it is not stranore that she should be lonelr. Nor could her mind dwell upon any pleasing anticipa- tions for the future. Her husband three thousand miles away, a hostile army encompassing the countr,', 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 gS ABIGAIL ADAMS. dear son, and it is five months since I had an oppor- tunity of conveying a Hne 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 unable to relieve them. The universal cry for bread to a humane heart is painful beyond description." Mr. Adams returned to his family after an absence of eighteen months, but no sooner was he established in his happy home, than he was ordered to Great Britain to negotiate 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 relief in the following touching words : " My habitation, how dis- consolate 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 temptation 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 reo^ard to his extreme re- luctance at again crossing the ocean, and for its per- spicuity 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 : ">«^, 1778. "My Dear Son: 'Tis almost four months since you left your native land and embarked upon the mighty A MOTHER S ADVICE. 99 waters In quest of a foreign country. Although I have not particularly written to you since, yet you may be assured you have constantly been upon my heart and mind. "It is a very difficult task, my dear son, for a tender parent, to bring her mind to part with a child of your years, going to a distant land ; nor could I have ac- quiesced in such a separation under any other care than that of the most excellent parent and guardian who ac- companied 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 which an account will be required of you hereafter; and, being possessed of one, two, or four, see to it that }'ou 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 virtue, such as will render you an ornament to society, an honor to your country, and a blessing to your parents. Great learn- ing and superior abilities, should you ever possess them, will be of little value and small estimation, unless virtue, honor, truth, and integrity are added to them. Adhere to those religious sentiments and principles which were lOO ABIGAIL ADAMS. early instilled into your mind, and remember that you are accountable 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 welfare. His care and attention to you ren- der many things unnecessary for me to write, which I might otherwise do; but the inadvertency and heedless- ness of youth require line upon line and precept upon precept, and, when enforced by the joint efforts of both parents, will, I hope, have a due influence upon your conduct; for, dear as you are to me, I would mucli 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 o-raceless child. "You have entered early in life upon the great theatre of the world, which is full of temptations and vice of every kind. You are not wholly unacquainted with his- tory, in, which you have read of crimes which your inex- perienced mind could scarcely believe credible. You have been taught to think of them 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 A MOTHERS ADVICE. lOI 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 certain truth, that the welfare and prosperity of all countries, communities, and, I may add, individuals, depend upon their morals. That nation to which we were once united, as it has departed from justice, eluded and subverted the wise laws which for- merly governed it, and suffered the worst 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 greatly 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 write me an ac- count 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 I02 ABIGAIL ADAMS. Constitution in April, i 789, and Mr. Adams was elected Vice-President. He established himself in New York, and from there Mrs. Adams wrote to her sister, "that she would return to Braintree during the recess of Con- gress, but the season of the year renders the attempt impracticable." She speaks in one of her letters of the drawing-rooms held by Mrs. Washington, and the many invitations she received to entertainments. After a resi- dence of one year in New York, the seat of government was removed to Philadelphia. She says in a letter to her dauohter, "that she dined with the President in com- pany with the ministers and ladies of the court," and that "he asked very affecdonately after her 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 Wash- ington, and from Braintree she wrote to her husband one of the most beautiful of all her noble effusions: " ' The sun is dressed in brightest beams To give ihy honors to the day.' "And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each ensuing season. You have this day 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 rnay 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 : ' wer"^ REMOVAL TO WASHINGTON. IO3 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 by a sense of the obligations, the im- portant 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, from whence the seat of government was removed in June, 1800, to Wash- ington City. Her impression of the place is graphically described in the following letter to her daughter, Mrs. Smith : "Washington, K'ovetnber 21st, 1800. " My 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 I04 ABIGAIL ADAMS. obliged to go the other eight through woods, where we wandered two hours without finding a guide or tlie path. Fortunately, a straggling black came up with us, and we engaged him as a guide 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 attached to it ; but as they are, and scattered as they are, I see no great comfort for them. The river, which runs 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 order, and perform the ordinary business of the house and stables : an establishment very well proportioned t:) the President's salary. The lighting the apartments, from the kitchen to parlors and chambers, is a tax in- deed ; and the fires we are obliged to keep to secure us from daily agues, is another very cheering comfort. To assist us in this great casde, and render less attendance necessary, bells are wholly wanting, not one single one being hung 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 ladles from Georgetown and in the city have many of them NO FIREWOOD FOR THE MANSION. IO5 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 surrounded with forests, can you believe that wood is not to be 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 he 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 to procure ii to be cut and carted. He has had recourse to coals: I at we cannot fjet crrates made and set. We have ii.'ideed 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 beauti- fiil, which is true. The house is made habitable, but t'lere is not a single apartment finished, and all within- side, except the plastering, has been done since Briesler came. We have not the least fence, yard, or other con- venience, without, and the great unfinished audience- 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 comfortable; 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 de- I06 ABIGAIL ADAMS. signed for the drawing-room, and has the crimson furni- ture in it. It is a very handsome room now, but whe, nd I should not care were life to end with the line I am writing, were it not that in the unhappy state of mind u'hich your father's misfortunes have brought upon him, 1 may yet be of some avail to the family," Ex-President Jefferson died the 4th of July, 1826, and at nearly the same hour passed away the spirit of John Adams. He lingered a little behind Jefferson, 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. Jefferson handed her a little casket. On opening it, after his death, she found a paper on which he had written the lines of Moore, commencinof — 150 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. " It is not the tear at this moment shed When the cold turf has just been Iain o'er him " — There is also a touchino- tribute to his daughter, de« clarlng that while he "goes to his fathers," "the last pang of life" is in parting from her; that "two seraphs'* " long shrouded in death " (meaning doubtless his wife and younger daughter) " await him ; " that he will " bear them her love." After this all is sadness. To satisfy creditors, all the property was sold, and the proceeds did not fully meet the debts. "When it became known that Montlcello had gone» or must go out of the hands of Mr. Jefferson's family, and that his only child was left without an independent provision, another exhibition of public feeling took place. The Legislatures of South Carolina and Louisiana promptly voted her ;^ 10,000 each, and the stocks they created for the purpose sold for ^21,800. Other plans were started in other States, which, had they been car- ried out, would have embraced a liberal provision for Mr. Jefferson's descendants. But, as is usual on such occasions, the people in each locality obtained exagger- ated impressions of what was doing in others, and slack- ened their own exertions until the feeling that prompted them died away." Two years passed, and Mrs. Randolph was called upon to see her husband die, and she of all her name re- mained to link the memory of her ancestors v/ith tliose of her descendants. LETTER FROM MRS. TRIST TO MRS. HOLLOW AV. 15I To her daughter, Mrs. Virginia Jefferson Trist, I am indebted for this narrative of the closing eight years of Mrs. Randolph's life; " My Dear Mrs. Hollow ay: " I wish it were in my power to answer your inquiries more satisfactorily than I am able to do. My recol- lections of my mother, at so early a period of my life as the one referred to, are altogedier childish and imperfect. It is true, my very earliest recollections are connected with a winter passed in the White House during my grandfather's Presidency, but they are so few and so scanty and childish, as they rise before me in the mists of long past years, that really nothing worth offering you suggests itself to my mind. "My mother was born in September, 1772, and had therefore entered her 29th year when her father was elected President. She was then the mother of five children, having married at the early age of seventeen. Thus surrounded by a family of young children, she could not pass much of her time in Washington ; she did, however, spend two winters there, the first in 1802—3, the second in 1805-6. Her health was very bad on the first of these two occasions of her visitino- her father. Having an abscess on her lungs, she was advised by her physician to go to pass the winter in Bermucfe, and for this purpose left her home in Albemarle, Virginia, to go as far as Washington in her travelling carriage — the only mode at that day of making the journey of four 152 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. days' duration. During this journey the abscess broke, and she felt so much relieved that her croinof to Bermuda was no longer considered necessary, and she passed that winter with her father. I believe my father was in Con- gress at that time. My mother's only sister, Marie Jef- ferson, then Mrs. John W. Eppes, was also a member of her father's family that winter, her husband being in Congress. There was a difference of six years in the ages of the sisters ; my mother, who was the oldest, had accompanied her father to France, where she was edu- cated under his eyes. My aunt had afterward followed them to Paris under the wing of Mrs. John Adams, in whose correspondence mention Is made of her. The three becarne thus reunited only two years before their return home, after which she (my aunt) was placed at school in Philadelphia. She grew up possessed of rare beauty and loveliness of person as well as disposition • but her health was delicate, and her natural modesty and timidity w^as so great as to make her averse to so- ciety. Underv^alulng her own personal advantages, she regarded with the warmest admiration, as well as sisterly affection, her sister's more positive character and bril- liant intellectual endowments. My mother was not a beauty; her features were less regular tlian her sister's, her face owing its charms more to its expressiveness, beaming as it ever was with kindness, good humor, gayety and wIl She was tall and very graceful, notwithstand- ing a certain degree of embonpoint. Her complexion naturally fair, her hair of a dark chestnut color, very long THE TWO SISTERS. I 53 and very abundant. I have always heard that her man- ners were uncommonly attractive from their vivacity, amiability, and high breeding-, and her conversation was charming'. These two sisters were the ladies of the White House in 1802-3. My mother was very sociable and enjoyed society. I remember hearing her mention a circumstance which seemed to Illustrate the natural dif- ference of their characters. She said one day, laughingly, ' Marie, if I had your beauty, I should not feel so indif- ferent as you do about it.' My aunt looked vexed and pained, and observed, ' Compliments to a pretty face v/ere indications that no intellectual attractions existed in its possessor.' "From their contemporary, Mrs. Madison, I have heard, that that winter when the sisters were eoino- together Into society, although on entering a room all eyes were turned on the younger, who became a centre of attraction, particularly to the gentlemen, that by degrees my mother's vivacity and the charms of her conversation and manners drew around her a circle of admirers who delighted in listening to her even more than In looking at her beautiful sister. These two sis- ters lived in perfect harmon)-, linked together by the warmest mutual affection, as well as their common de- votion to their father, whom both idolized. "My mother's second visit to her father was in the winter of 1805-6. She had then lost her sister. My aunt left two children, Francis and Maria Jefferson; the little girl was only a few months old and did not lonor 154 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. survive her mother. Francis passed that winter under my mother's care, his father being still in Congress. One of my brothers was born that same winter; the first birth which took place in the White House. He was called James Madison. Mrs. Madison was an intimate and much valued friend of my mother's, and her amiable, playful manners with children attracted my sisters and myself and made her a great favorite with us. Among my childish recollections is her 'running away with us,' as she playfully expressed it, when she took us away with her in her carriage, to crive us a drive and then take us home with her to play with two of her nieces near our ages, and lunch on cranberry tarts. My old- est sister, Anne, completed her fifteenth year that win- ter, and was not yet going into society; but my mother permitted her to go to a ball under the care of a lady friend, who requested that my sister might go to her house to dress and accompany her own daughter near her age to the ball. My sister excited great admiration on that occasion. She had a 'remarkably classic head,' as I remember hearin^j an Italian artist remark at Mon- ticello upon seeing her there after she was the mother of several children. Her hair was a beautiful auburn, and her complexion had a delicate bloom very becom- ing to her, and with the freshness of fifteen I can readily imagine how strikingly handsome she was. My mother, accompanied by Mrs. Cutts — the mother of Gen. Richard D. Cutts — went to the ball at a later hour. She was very short-sighted, and seeing" my sister PLEASANT REMINISCENCES. I 55 on entering the ball-room she asked Mrs. Ciitts, 'Who is that beautiful girl?' Mrs. Cutts, much amused, an- swered, 'Why, woman, are you so unnatural a mother as not to recognize your own daughter?' "My sister died many years ago; if she were now living, she could no doubt tell much of what happened that winter in the White House. She formed some pleasant acquaintances in Washington, and made some friends with whom she corresponded for years. I have some recollections of the house as it was before being burned by the British, and as it was rebuilt on the same plan, I have since recognized parts of it most familiar to my eyes. A lasting impression was made upon my memory by the reception in one of the drawing-rooms, of the Tunisian Ambassador and suite; the brilliantly lighted room, the odd appearance to my puzzled senses of the rich Turkish dresses, and my alarm at receiving a kiss from the Secretary of the Ambassador, whilst one of my sisters, just two years old, whose Saxon complexion and golden hair made her a beautiful pic- ture, was honored by a kiss from the Ambassador, of which she has no recollection. I heard of the elegant presents brought by them for my mother and aunt, and which were publicly exhibited and sold. My mother wished to purchase one of the shawls intended for her, but when Mrs. Madison went to make the purchase she found that she had been anticipated by another person. The talk about these presents could not, of course, fail to greatly excite my childish curiosity, but my desire to T56 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. see them was not gratified. My grandfather did not allow them to be broutrht to the President's House, as it was then called — a name which, it seems, was too plain English to suit modern notions of dignified refine- ment, for it has been superseded by the more stately appellation of 'Executive Mansion.' "From its being the cause of m}- disappointment in seeing those beautiful specimens of Oriental luxury and taste, my grandfather's strictness on that occasion served to impress upon my mind, earlier than it other- wise would have been impressed, a trait of his character which afterward became as familiar to me, and as nat- ural a part of himself, as the sound of his voice — I mean his scrupulousness in conforming to the laws in all thinofs, ereat or small. \ "To return to my mother, it is to that period that belongs a remark which long afterward I was told had been made of her by the Marquis de Yrugo, the Span- ish Ambassador, that she was fitted to grace any court in Europe. I was then too young to know and ap- preciate her as I afterward came to do. I have never known any one who accomplished as much as she did, making use of all she had been taught, in an education which fitted her for the performance of the various duties which fell to her lot. After my grandfather re- tired from public life, she became the mistress of his house. My father visited his farm in the neighborhood of Monticello daily, and during the busy season of har- vest my mother always stayed with him while it lasted. A LARGE FAMILY. I 57 My mother educated her six daughters unassisted by any one. During the summer months, the crowds of visitors to my grandfather who filled the house and en- grossed much of her time, interrupted our studies and made us lose much precious time; but she had the art of awakening an interest in what she taught us, and exciting a desire for improvement, which made us make the most of the quiet winter months which she could devote to us. She was a good musician, and was fond of gardening; she superintended personally all house- hold matters, and in the winter evenings when my grandfather was seated In his arm-chair in the chimney corner, a small candle-stand was placed between them, and they spent the evenings reading. She had all the tastes which made country life agreeable, without losing her relish for the attractions of town life. Such was my mother as I knew her, and I remember her most perfectly. She was the mother of twelve children, eleven of whom lived to grow up. "My youngest sister's name was Septimia. She was my mother's seventh daughter, and her name was the occasion of a poetic compliment to my mother from an old Portuguese gentleman, the Abbe Correa de Serra, who visited my grandfather every year during his long residence in Philadelphia. He was for several years Portuguese Ambassador to the United States. His learning, his interesting and instructive conversation, 'he amiable, child-like simplicity of his character and manners, made this old philosopher alike attractive to 158 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. the older and younger members of the family. His visits were enjoyed by us all, from my grandfather and mother down to the youngest child of the house, only two years old. In allusion to her name of Septimia, he said to my mother, ' Your daughters, Mrs. Randolph, are like the Pleiades ; they are called seven, but six only are seen.' The second daughter died an infant. "My mother survived her father upward of ten years, and her husband about eight years ; during that period losing a grown son, James Madison Randolph, born in the President's House. "In the autumn after my grandfather's death, she went to Boston, and passed the winter in the house of her son-in-law, Mr. Joseph Coolidge, of that city, having with her the two youngest children, Septimia and George Wythe, who went to day-schools during that winter. Septimia was the only one of her daughters who ever went to school at all ; my other sisters and myself having our education conducted by our mother; she being our only teacher, assisted somewhat by her father. The following summer she accompanied my sister, Mrs. Coolidge, to Cambridge, where the two chil- dren again attended day-schools. My eldest brother, Mr. Jefferson Randolph, was his grandfather's executor; he had been in all business affairs the staff of his de- clining years, and afterward became a father to his younger brothers. The sale of furniture, pictures, and other movables at Monticello, took place the winter following my grandfather's death, after my mother's RETURNS TO MONTICELLO. 1 59 departure for Boston. The rest of the family passed that winter in my brother's house, then the ensuing summer at Monticello, a purchaser for which could not be found until two years or more after. My mother remained in Cambridge the second winter, as a boarder, with her two children, in the family of Mr. Stearns, law- professor of Harvard College, to whose excellent family she became much attached. " My sister Cornelia went to join her in Cambridge, and the two were alternately in Boston and Cambridge, the one with Mrs. Coolidge, and the other with the children. "In the spring of 1828, my mother returned to Mon- ticello, accompanied by Cornelia and Septimia, leaving my brother at a boarding school in the country near Cambridge. This being their first separation, it was felt most acutely on both sides, for he, just ten years old, was an unusually sensitive and warm-hearted boy, and as the 'youngling of her flock,' was the darling of her heart. He was to remain behind among strangers, whilst his mother, the object of his passionate fondness and devoted attachment, was to return without him to that dear old home he so well remembered and loved. My mother, on her return to Monticello after an ab- sence of eighteen months, found my father very ill. He had been a part of the previous winter in Georgia, en- gaged as commissioner on the part of the United States in establishing a boundary line between that State and Florida. His letters spoke of his enjoying the climate, l60 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. and he enjoyed also the opportunities which he there found of gratifying his fondness for botanical studies ; but he returned home in very bad health, and after a few months of severe suffering, died on the 20th of June, 1 8 28, in his sixtieth year. Monticello was sold the following winter. My mother took leave of her beloved home in December — that home which had been the scene of her happiest years, where she had enjoyed her dear father's society, and been the solace of his age ; where her children had been, most of them, born and grown up around her, and where her own happy child- hood had been passed before the death of her mother. "She removed with her family to the house of her son Jefferson, My mother lived a year with my brother's family, during which time she formed a plan of keeping a school for young ladies, assisted by her unmarried daughters, who were to be teachers under her superin- tendence. This plan was, however, rendered unneces- sary by the donations so generously made her by the States of South Carolina and Louisiana, of $10,000 each. About this time, also, Mr. Clay, then Secretary of State, prompted by the wish to do something in aid of Mr. Jefferson's daughter, offered to my husband, who had just then commenced the practice of the law, one of the higher clerkships in the State Department, with a salary of $1,400. This offer was accepted by him, with the understanding that my mother and sisters would go with us to live in Washington as one family. In the autumn of 1829, we bade adieu to our native mountains, REMOVES TO WASHINGTON. l6l and removed to Washington. We occupied a small house with a pretty garden, pleasantly situated, where we lived together, forming one family, consisting of seven grown persons and four children, the two young- est being my own, and the other two orphans of my eldest sister, who had been taken by their grandmother to her home at Monticello, while her father was still living. " Upon her arrival in Washington, my mother was visited by everybody, and received the most marked attentions. The President and the Heads of Depar/- ments called upon her ; the lady of the White House of that day, Mrs. Donelson, and the wives of the cab- inet ministers, laid aside etiquette, and paid her the respect of a first call. "General Jackson, during the whole time of her rc;- idence in Washington, never omitted making her a vis it once a year, accompanied usually by the Secretary of State. As a tribute to her father's memory, these marks of respect were peculiarly gratifying. Her disposition was naturally cheerful and social, though she was not dependent on society for happiness. Her habits of regular occupation, possessing as she did various tastes, the cultivation of which afforded her variety, and in- creased her interest in life; and surrounded as she was by a large, cheerful family circle, she lived contentedly in the country, even during the winters at Monticello, which were seldom enlivened by visitors. That season was devoted principally to the education of her children; 1 62 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. the constant crowds of visitors durincr the rest of the year leaving her very Httle time not engrossed by house- hold cares, arising from the duties of hospitality. " During the years which she passed in Washington, she resumed many of her old occupations ; her taste for flowers revived, and good music afforded her enjoyment, although she no longer played much herself after my grandfather's death. Her habits of readingf she never lost, and she always began the day with some chapter of the New Testament. She was an early riser in summer and in winter. She liked an east window in her bedroom, because it enabled her to read in bed before the household w^ere stirring. Every year she visited alternately my elder brother at his residence near Monticello, in the southwest mountains of Virginia, or my sister, Mrs. Joseph Coolidge, in Boston. "In the spring of 1831 she was called on to make a painful sacrifice, such as mothers only can appreciate — she gave her consent to George's entering the navy. After passing a winter with her in Washington, he had entered a school near the University of Virginia, when a midshipman's warrant was procured for him. At his boarding-school in Massachusetts, his conduct had gained for him the respect, confidence, and good-will of all, teachers and associates; but he was yet a mere child, and his mother's heart sickened at the thought of his o-oino- forth alone to encounter the naval perils, as well as brave the hardships of a sea-faring life. She had, however, the fortitude to approve of what was judged MOTHER AXD SONS. 1 63 best for his future, and her sorrow was borne with the patient and cheerful resignation which belonged to her character. " The recollection of that parting as a trial for her stirs up, even at this distance of time, the long dormant feelings which I thought my last tear had been shed for. You, dear madam, will excuse this revival of incidents not required for your sketch, and will use such things only as may have an interest for the public. His first cruise lasted eighteen months, in the U. S. ship John Adams, which went up the Mediterranean as far as Constantinople ; and one of its incidents was the break- ing out of the cholera on board. He fjot back to us safely, however, and my mother was rewarded for her sufferings by the encomiums elicited by his conduct and character from the officers under whom he had served, and their predicdons as to the useful and honorable career which lay before him. She continued to hear him highly spoken of, and to learn that he was respected by all who knew him, and that his leisure hours on board the ship were devoted to reading and study. In the interval between his cruises, he was to stay with her in Washinofton. *' In the second year of her residence there, she had the happiness of having my brother Lewis, another of her younger children, added to her family. He obtained a clerkship, which afforded him a post while he was qualifying himself for the practice of the law, and he remained with us until his marriage, which took place a 1 64. MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. few years later. He was highly gifted, remarkably handsome, and shone in the social circle, but never formed one of the idle throng always to be found in cities. Very domestic in his tastes and habits, his leisure hours were divided between his professional studies and associates belonging to the circle in which his family moved. He married Miss Martin, a niece of Mrs. Donelson, with whom he became acquainted at the * White House,' where she was staying. He then moved to the young State of Arkansas, where a promis- ing career at the bar was cut short by an early death from congestive fever, less than a year after his mother's death. "In the summer of 1832, my mother parted with the orphan granddaughter, Ellen Bankhead, whom she had adopted, and who, being then married to Mr. John Carter, of Albemarle, returned to live on his estate in his native mountains, and among the scenes of her child- hood. Willie, her litde orphan brother, was about that time claimed by his paternal grandfather, and placed at a day-school near him. In the following spring, Mr. Trist purchased a house into which we all moved. I think my mother felt more at home in this pleasant, new abode than she had ever done since leaving Monticello. The house had been built by Mr. Richard Rush, our -Minister to England for many years, and when we first moved to Washington, was occupied by this gentleman and his lovely wife and family. It was a spacious dwell- ing, admirably planned and built, with a large garden MOTHER AND DAUGHTERS. 1 65 and out-buildings, the whole enclosed by a high brick wall. There the last three years of my mother's life were spent, although her death took place suddenly at Edgehill, my brother's residence in Virginia. " The winter preceding had been marked by the death of my brother, James Madison Randolph, who had just completed his 27th year. He was buried at Mon- ticello on a cold day in January, I remember the negroes assembled there, and made a fire to keep them warm while they waited for the procession which fol- lowed him to his early grave, who, they said, was the 'black man's friend,' and would have shared his last cent with one of them. At the time of our removal to that pleasant new home, my brother-in-law, Mr. Joseph Coo- lidge, of Boston, having gone to China, was engaged in business in Canton; his family remaining in Boston. In the summer of 1834, and during the absence of her hus- band, my sister paid us a visit, passing the summer in Virginia at my brother's, and the following winter with us in Washington. On that occasion, my mother had all her daughters with her for the last time; and Lewis, yet unmarried, was stili living with her. The season was remarkable for its severity, the thermometer falling so low as 1 6° below zero, on a gallery with a southern exposure of our house, and so late even as the ist day of March, stood at zero — the snow a foot deep in the garden. Soon after the purchase of that house, Mr. Trist, whose health had been very delicate, was ap- pointed by General Jackson to be United States Consul I 68 MARTHA JEFFERSON RANDOLPH. that occasion that this precious portrait was secured by my prevaiHng on her to sit to Mr. Sully, then consid- ered the best female portrait painter in our country. Twenty years previously, Mr. Sully had passed some time as a guest at Monticello, having been employed to make a portrait of my grandfather for the Military Academy at West Point, Since that time my mother had changed very much. Mr. Sully had then found her living with her dear father in that happy home, sur- rounded by a large, cheerful family circle unbroken by death. But in the long interval, many of its members had been taken away, and grief had left its traces not less plainly stamped upon her face than age. She was thinner and more feeble than I had ever seen her — it was just six months before her death. I accompanied her to Mr. Sully's studio for her first sitting, and as she took her seat before him she said playfully: 'Mr. Sully, I shall iiever forgive you if you paint me with wrinkles.' I quickly interposed, — 'Paint her just as she is, if you pi.ease, Mr. Sully: the picture is for me.' He said, 'I shall paint you, Mrs. Randolph, as I remember you twenty years ago." He approved of her dress, particu- larly a large cape worn by old ladies, and requested her not to make any change in it. The picture does rep- resent her twenty years younger than when she sat to him, but It failed to restore the embonpoint, and es- pecially the expression of health, and cheerful, even joyous, vivacity, which her countenance then habitually wore. While she was sitting for her portrait, her CLOSING SCENES. I 69 youngest daughter, Septimia, arrived by sea from Pen- sacola, where she had been taken by Mr. Trist to pass the winter with some friends, soon after which my mother pursued her journey to Virginia, accompanied by Mary and Septimia. "Mr. Trist returned in August, and I set out with him In September for V^irginia to take leave of my friends. On our arrival at Washington, finding General Jackson there alone in the White House — soon to set out for Tennessee, where his family had preceded him — the General expressed a wish for my husband's company durinF rilK MANSION. I 77 and made his house the most attractive place of resort in the city. During his eight years' Hfe as Secretary of State, she dispensed with no niggard hand the abundant wealth she rightly prized, and the poor of the district loved her name as a household deity. In 1 80S, Mr. Madison was elected President, and after Mr. Jefferson left the city, he removed to the White House. Under the former administration, Mrs. Madison had, during the absences of Mr. Jefferson's daughters, presided at the receptions and levees, and was in every particular fitted to adorn her position as hostess of the mansion she was called to preside over. Every one ir Washington felt that her watchful care and friendly in terest would be in nowise diminished by her advance- ment to a higher position ; and the magical effects of her' snuff-box were as potent in one capacity as another. The forms and ceremonials which had rendered the drawincr-rooms of Mrs. Washinoton and Mrs. Adams dull and tedious, were laid aside, and no kind of stiffness was permitted. Old friends were not forgotten, nor new ones courted; but mild and genial to all, each person felt himself the object of special attention, and all left her presence pleased and gratified with her urbanity and refinement. Possessing a most retentive memory, she never mis- called a name, or forgot the slightest incident connected with the personal history of any one ; and therefore im- pressed each individual with the idea of their importance in her esteem. Mrs. Madison's sole aim was to be ,pop- 12 I 78 DOROTHY P. MADISON. ular and render her husband's administration brilliant and successful. Her field was the parlor; and with the view of reigning supreme there, she bent the energies of her mind to the one idea of accomplishment. In her thirty-seventh year she entered the White House. Sdll youthful in appearance, denied the cares of maternity, which destroy the bloom of beauty on the delicate faces of American women, she assumed her agreeable position with no encumbrances, no crosses, in perfect health, the possessor of great beauty of feature and form, and eminently happy in the sincere regard of her husband. Contentment crowned her lot with happiness, and the first four years of her life there must have been one continued pleasure. With all her appreciation of admiration, she was not extravagant; her house, during the time of Mr. Jeffer- son's term, was very plainly furnished, and in no way elegant. Like most Yircfinians, she delicrhted in com- pany, and her home was the most hospitable abode in W^ashington. Her table was her pride; and the multi- plicity 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 Secretary of State." She heard of this and similar remarks, 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 cus- toms arose from the .happy circumstance of the super- A PANIC IN WASHINGTON. 1 79 abundance and prosperity of our country, she did not hesitate to sacrifice the dehcacy of European taste for the less elegant, but more liberal fashion of Virginia." But this time of prosperity was doomed, and war insatiate was already treading upon the shores of the Atlantic. Mr. Madison, the peace-loving, humane Executive, was compelled to declare war with Great Britain ; and after a time its actual presence was felt at the National Capital. June, 181 2, is memorable as the second appeal of the United States to arms, to assert once more the rights of its freemen ; and for three years its fierceness was felt from Canada to New Orleans, and over the blue waters of the oceans of the world. "Generous British sentiments revolted at the destruc- tion of tlie 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, resi- dences of magistrates, buildings of civil government, objects of art, seats of peace, and embodiments of ra- tional patriotic pride. The day before the fall of Wash- ington was one of extreme alarm: the Secretary of State wrote to the President: 'The enemy are advanced six niiles on the road to the wood-yard, and our troops are retreating, you had better remove the records.' Then commenced the panic which was destined to grow more general the coming day. Tuesday night every clerk was i8o Dorothy p. madison, busy packing and aiding in the removal of valuables. Coarse linen bags were provided, and late in the evening, after all the work was over, and the bags were hanging round the room, ready at a moment's warning to be moved, Mr. Pleasanton, one of the clerks, procured con- veyances, and crossing the Potomac, deposited them in a mill three miles off. But fearing for their safety, he de- termined to go farther into the interior, and the next night slept at Leesburg, a small town thirty-five miles from Washington. The light 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 Independence, the Fed- eral Constitution, and General Washington's commission as Commander-in-chief of the Army of the Revolution, which he relinquished 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 ren- der the threatened danofer almost imminent. The friijht- ened multitude swayed to and fro, seeking means of escape till night closed the horrible drama ; then upon Capitol Hill appeared the red-coated soldiery of the British army. The sun sank beneath the golden sheen of fleecy clouds that floated sofdy over the southern horizon, but the ooino- down of the kino;- of dav in no- wise relieved the atmosphere. Dust and heat were in- tolerable, and a rumor that the water was poisoned ren- A BLAZING CAPITAL. l8l dered the sufferincrs of die weary soldiers painful in the extreme. For the seventh time that day a retreat was commanded, and the city troops, mortified and enraged, refused to obey. Back from the city to the heights of Georgetown was the order; but how could they leave their families, their homes and property, and march by those they were sworn to protect ! Down the long, broad, and solitary avenue, past the President's now de- serted house, through Georgetown, and some as far 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 Washington, i\ll night they lay alarmed and distressed, while but few » ould steal a moment's repose. The bursting shells in tae navy yard were heard for miles, and each boom was Zi knell to the ao:onizin<': hearts, who knew not where tneir helpless ones were in this hour of horrors. When the British marched slowly into the wilderness city, by die lurid light that shot up from the blazing capitol, the |)opulation had dwindled down to a few stragglers and the slaves of the absent residents. The houses, scattered '>ver 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 avenue, and the fulminations from the navy yard saluted them as they passed. Nothing but the prayers and entreaties of the ladies, and the ex- postulations of the nearest residents, deterred the British 1 82 DOROTHY P. MADISON. General Ross from blowing up the Capitol ; but he or- dered it to be fired at every point, and many houses near it were consumed. A house hard by, owned by General Washington, was destroyed, which, in justice to human nature be it said, the General regretted. Not so the Admiral, who ordered the troops to fire a volley in the windows of the Capitol, and then entered to plunder. I have, indeed, to this hour (said Mr. Richard Rush, in 1855), the vivid impression upon my eye of columns of flame and smoke ascendino- throughout the nieht of the 24th of August from the Capitol, President'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 accompanied out of the city, on that memorable night, in 1814, President Madison, Mr. Jones, then Secretary of the Navy, General Mason, of Anacostia Island, Mr. Charles Carroll, of Bellevue, 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 when Congress met near the ruins three weeks afterward, that the Admiral in a strain of coarse levity, mounting the Speaker's chair, put the question, "Shall this harbor of Yankee democ- racy be burned?" and when the mock resolution was declared unanimous, it was carried into effect by heap- ing combustibles under the furniture. The temporary THE CAPTURE OF THE CITY. 183 wooden structure, connecting the two wings, readily kindled. Doors, chairs, the Hbrary and its contents, in an upper room of the Senate-wing, everything that would take fire, soon disappeared in sheets of flame, illuminatino; and consternating- the environs for thirty miles around, whence the conflagration was visible. Through "the eternal Pennsylvania Avenue," the Ad- miral and General led their elated troops, where but a few hours before the flying, scattered Americans, dis- mayed, ashamed, and disgusted, had wended their sor- rowing way. The Capitol behind them was wrapt in its windinof robes of flame, and on throufjh the darkness they passed to that other house of the nation. An aged lady lived in the nearest residence to tljo Presidential Mansion, and here the ruffianly Cockburn and the quiet, sad General Ross halted and ordered supper, which they ate by the light of the burning- buildings. A letter written by Mrs. Madison to her sister at Mount Vernon, gives us an insight into her feeling's, at this time of trial and dancrer. " TUKSDAY, August 2ld, 1S14. "Dear Sister: — My husband left me yesterday morn- ing to join General Winder. He inquired anxiously 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 that I had no fear but for him and the success of our army, he left me, beseeching me to take care of -myself, and of the 184 DOROTHY P. MADISON. Cabinet papers, public and private. I have since re- ceived two dispatches from him written with a pencil; the last is alarming, because he desires that I should be ready at a moment's warning to enter my carnage and leave the city; that the enemy seemed stronger than had been reported, and that it might happen that they would reach the city with intention to destroy it. "^ * * I am accordingly ready; I have pressed as many Cabinet papers into trunks as to fill one carriage ; our private property must be sacrificed, as it is impos- sible to procure wagons for its transportation. I am determined not to go myself, until I see Mr. JMadison safe and he can accompany me — a.-> I hear of much hostility toward him. * * * Disaffection stalks around us. * * My friends and acquaintances are all gone, even Colonel C, with his hundred men, who were stationed as a guard in this enclosure. * * French John (a faithful domestic) with his usual activity and resolution, offers to spike the cannon at the gate, and lay a train of powder which would blow up the British, should they enter the house. To the last propo- 'iition I positively object, without being able, however, to make him understand why all advantages in war may not be taken. "Wednesday morning, twelve o'clock. — Since sunrise I have been turning my spy-glass in every direction and watching with unwearied anxiety, hoping to discover the approach of my dear husband and his friends; but, alas! I can descry only, groups of military wandering in all THE PORTRAIT OF WASHINGTON. 1 85 directions, as if there was a lack of arms, or of spirit, to fiirlit for their own firesides! "Three o'clock. — Will you believe it, my sister? we have had a battle or skirmish near Bladensburg-, and I am still here within sound of the cannon! Mr. Madison comes not; may God protect him! Two messengers covered with dust come to bid me fly; but I wait for him. '=' * * At this late hour a wagon has been procured; I have had it filled with the plate and most valuable portable articles belonging to the house; whether it will reach its destination, the Bank of Mary- land, or fall into the hands of British soldiery, events must determine. Our kind friend, Mr. Carroll, has come to hasten my departure, and Is In a very bad humor with me because I insist on waitingr until the large picture of General Washington is secured, and it )*equlres to be unscrewed from the wall. This process was found too tedious for these perilous moments; I have ordered the frame to be broken and the canvas taken out; it is done — and the precious portrait placed in the hands of two gendemen of New York for safe- keeping. And now, my dear sister, I must leave this house, or the retreating army will make me a prisoner in it, by filling up the road I am directed to take. When I shall again write to you, or where I shall be to-morrow. 1 cannot tell!" On the removal of the seat of government to Wash- ington. In 1800, a magnificent portrait of General 1 86 DOROTHY P. MADISON. Washington, painted by Stuart partly, and completed by Winstanley, to whom President John Adams' son-in- law. Colonel Smith, stood for the unfinished limbs and body, hung in the state dining-room. Colonel Wash- ington Parke Custis, of Arlington, a grandson of Mrs. Washington, called at the President's to save this pic- ture of his illustrious grandfather, in whose house he was reared. Then, as now, it was one of the very few ornaments which adorned the White House, and at the risk of capture INIrs. Madison determined to save it. The servants of the house broke with an axe the heavy gilt frame which protected the inner one of wood, upon which the canvas was stretched, and removed, uninjured, the painting, leaving the broken fragments screwed to the wall, which had held in place the valued relic. Mrs. Madison then left the house, and the portrait was taken by Mr. Baker beyond Georgetown and placed in a secure position. Half a century later, when the White House was undergoing a renovation, this portrait was sent, with many others subsequently added to this solitary paint- ing, to be cleaned and the frame burnished. The artist found on examination that the canvas had never been cut, since the rusted tacks, time-worn frame, and the size compared with the original picture, was the most conclusive evidence that Mrs. Madison did not cut it out with a carving-knife, as many traditions have industriously circulated. The frame was a large one, hanging high on the wall, THE ENEMY IN THE WHITE HOUSE. 1 87 and it was impossible that a lady could by mounting a table be enabled to reach any but the lower portion ; then, too, in that moment of nervous alarm, the constant noise of cannon fillino- each heart with dread, it seems improbable that any hand, above all a woman's, could be steady enough to cut, without ruining the canvas. Again, from the lips of a descendant, the assurance is given that Mrs. Madison repeatedly asserted that she did not cut it, but only lingered to see it safely removed before she stepped into her waiting carriage and was driven rapidly toward Georgetown. First to the residence of the Secretary of the Navy, then to Belleview, and joined by the family of Mr. Jones and Mr. Carroll, she returned to town insisting that her terrified coachman should take her back toward the President's house to look for Mr. Madison, whom she unexpectedly found near the lower bridge, attended by Mr. Monroe and Mr. Rush, who had reached the White House soon after she left it and stopped for re- freshments. It has been related that the British found a sumptuous meal smoking on the table when they reached there after dark, and that they enjoyed the iced wines and cold ham. amusing themselves with the coarse assertion that "Jemmy" ran from his bacon "to save his bacon," The low pun found ears ready to credit and circulate it. but the porter, who died but a few years since, has repeatedly asserted that the occupants of the house had been in such constant fright that but little had been 1 88 DOROTHY P. MADISON. cooked, and no regular meal partaken of that day ; that there was always plenty in the larder for any emergency, and a wine-cellar kept well stored, but that after the President's party had eaten on their arrival, soon after Mrs. Madison's departure, and given the remnants of their hasty meal to the tired, jaded soldiers of Col. Savol's reeiment, that there was nothinor left. Water was furnished the troops in buckets, and all the wine in the house given them. John Siousa, the French porter, after seeing the President and his attend- ants off, took the parrot belonging to Mrs. Madison to the residence of Col. Tayloe, and then returned and fastened the house securely and took the keys with him to Philadelphia. All the afternoon, parties of straggling lioldiers, on their way to Georgetown, hung about the house and grounds, and vagrant negroes pilfered in 55pite of the efforts of the servants. Many articles were taken from the house to be secured and returned as some were, but much was never restored. The porter secreted the orold and silver mounted carbines and o pistols of the Algerian minister, which are now in the Patent Office, but the revolvers belonging to the Secre- tary of the Treasury, which the President laid on a table, were stolen. Gloating with revenge, at the escape of the President and his wife, " whom they wanted to show in England," the enemy broke open the doors of the White House, and ransacked it from cellar to garret, finding nothing of value, or as objects of curiosity, save a small parcel THK TORCH APPLIED. 1 Sq of the pencil notes received from her husband by Mrs. Madison, while he was with the troops, which she had rolled up together and put in a table drawer. To all the rest of the contents: furniture, wines, provisions, groceries, and family stores, which cost Mr. Madison twelve thousand dollars, together with an excellent library, the torch was applied. Fire was procured at a small beer house opposite the Treasury to light the buildincrs with, and while the commanders were eatingf their evening meal at the house of Mrs. Suter, on the corner, the common soldiers, toijether with the ne<7roes a^nd thieves of all grades, were pillaging the rapidly burningr buildings. The White House was not so large or complete then 3,s now ; the East Room, which had served Mrs. Adams for a drying room, was unfurnished and unoccupied, und the front vestibule not then added, which so greatly enhances the interior of the present mansion. The House was plain, unfinished, and totally destitute of ornament, the grounds uninclosed, and materials for building purposes lying scattered about the woods which have since become the ornament of this portion of the city. Nothing but the lateness of the hour, and the storm coming on, saved the War Department. The squadron which was to have co-operated with them, fail- ing to come, filled the officers with timorous fear, and they determined to evacuate the city the next day unless it should arrive in the meantime. For over a week the unhappy citizens of W^ashington had not slept or pur- igO DOROTHY r. MADISON. sued the avocations of daily life. Constant rumors and frights had unnerved the stoutest hearts, and families fleeinor from a foreign foe rendered the situation of those who could not leave more distressing. Every vehicle had been pressed into service, and valuables scattered over the country for safety. The city con- tained about e'lcrht thousand inhabitants, livino- at preat distances, of whom not more than one-tenth remained in its limits to see the entrance and exit of the British army. Over the Long Bridge, until it was in danger of giving way, through the country into the interior of Maryland and beyond 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 whose house the intruders demanded supper), of great trouble, no one sleeping at night and the day spent in fright. After the terrors of that sad week and dreadful day, the Capitol and other buildings blazing, the ammunition in the navy yard 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 hurricane ever remembered by the oldest inhabitant in the place came on. Of the prodigious force of the wind, it is im- possible 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 which accompanied it resembled the rushing of a mighty cataract, rather than TERRIBLE STORM. IQI the dropping of a shower. The darkness was as great as if the sun had long set and the last remains of twilight had come on, occasionally relieved by flashes of vivid liorhtnin^r streaminor througfh 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 from the walls, produced the most appalling effect I shall probably ever witness. This lasted for nearly two hours without intermission ; during whicli time many of the houses spared by us were blown down, and thirty of our men, beside several of the in- habitants, buried beneath their ruins. Our column was as completely dispersed as if it had received a total defeat; some of the men flying for shelter behind walls and buildings, and others falling flat upon the ground to prevent themselves 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 the rear." This second storm, which was most terrifying to the British, unaccustomed as they were to the grand forests and heavy rains of America, was, if possible, more de- structive than the one of the night before. It com- menced 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 necessity of being driven to Georgetown or Philadelphia, when it again met in three weeks. After an occupation of 192 DOROTHY l\ MADISON. 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, Mr. Monroe, Mr. Rush, Mr. Mason, and Mr. Carroll to the Virginia shore. The boat 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 ferried over an inevitable Styx. Bidding them adieu as the last one entered the frail bark, Mrs. Madison returned to her friends at Georgetown, but agreeably to her hus- band's orders, she started on to a more secure retreat. The roads were so blocked with w^aeons that their 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 houseliold goods, moved slowly forward, amid the tumult, while the coming dark- ness increased the general alarm. Long after dark, the party accompanying Mrs. Madison reached the resi- dence of Mr. Love, on the Virginia side of the Potomac, where they begged the privilege of remaining all night. There was little need of beds for that agitated band of frightened women, and the night was passed by some in tears ; by Mrs. Madison in- sitting by an open window, FLIGHT INTO VIIIGIXIA. 1 93 gazing- back upon the weird and fantastic flames as they met and lapped in the far distance. Smothered rumbhng noises started the Hstcning ear, as ever and anon some huofe edifice or wino- of a build- ing fell. The head 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 avail- able substitute was brought into requisition, and all ren^ dered comfortable. Sleep was banished from all eyes, even had any been inclined to repose. The clanking, clattering noise of several hundred disorderly cavalry- men around the house kept every one awake, while all felt the desolate weariness of the night to be but a har- binger of the coming" day. "What must have been the; feelings of the occupants of that house that summer night we of the present day cannot realize," writes an eminent historian in 1842 ; but those who had not "fallen asleep" when the summer of 1862 came upon us, en- dured similar hours of anguish, which seared their hearts forever. No scene of horror was enacted in or about Washineton in that week of excitement that was not repeatedly paralleled in the sad years of our 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 region filled with frightened people, terrified scouts roaming about and spreading alarm that the enemy were coming from 13 194 DOROTHY P. MADISON. Washington and Alexandria, and diat 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 insupportable as the flying rumor that the negroes were in revolt, and maddened with drink and promised lib- erty, were roaming in numbers, committing every ex- cess, worse than those at Hampton the year before. As the day gradually drew to a close, the faint and drenched companions of Mrs. Madison reached the appointed place, sixteen miles from Washington. But the President was not there, and here occurred one of those disagreeable scenes that are a disgrace to the name of humanity, 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 declared that the wife of him who had brought war upon the country, should not find shelter 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 rain, 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 INGRATITUDE OF THE WOMEN. 1 95 who had repeatedly enjoyed the hospitalities of the White House, been admitted with kind cordiality to drawinor-rooms and dinin^fs, 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 exposure to the storm to contention ; but the escort with her, indignant at the contemptible conduct of the rude persons within, obliged the ungracious occu- pants to open the doors. The ojd tavern stood in the midst of an apple orchard laden with ripening fruit, and hardly had the travellers left their carriages when the hur- ricane dashed the apples, in several instances the entire trees, with fearful strength against the house. Mrs. Mad- ison spread the lunch she had prepared the day before at the White House, and in silence, interrupted only by her inquiries for the welfare of her attendants, 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 husband. Did she, in that hour of crrief and humiliation, think of her illustrious predecessors who had endured like her the black in- gratitude of the women of her country? Had she for- gotten that the ladies of Philadelphia, in 1776, refused Mrs. Washington similar attention, and treated with 196 DOROTHY P. MADISON. scorn the wife of the Commander-in-chief, who was usincr every human endeavor to organize and establish a con- tinental 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, receive 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 Revolution who, in her modest 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 reproaches of those whom she thought her friends, and waited for the storm to blow over, and truth once more to triumph? Philadelphia was a orreat distance then from the coast of Massachu- setts, 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, 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, Mrs. Madison waited in her inhospitable quarters for the President's coming ; and as night came on, her mind was relieved by seeing him approaching, accompanied by the friends with whom she left him the night before. He was careworn 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 degra- MRS. MADISON IN DISGUISE. 1 97 dations, was, however, the turning point of his fortunes; for while he slept, Ross hastily and clandestinely evacu- ated Washington, victor and vanquished alike victims of, and fugitives from, imagined perils." But the terrified citizens knew not that the British were impotent, and dismayed at the non-appearance of their fleet. Every crash of thunder was to them a source of alarm, and its rumblinofs in the distant clouds the imagined noise of approaching troops. Toward midnight, a courier, breath- less from fatiofue and excitement, warned the President that the enemy were coming, and he was compelled to pass the rest of that miserable ^ight In a hovel in the distant woods, with the boucrhs sobbing and siorhinof 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 niyCcL0JYlAA ^y MARRIAGE IN I 797- 239 sustained her, and rendered her sojourn on earth con- tented and agreeable. In her father's house in London he first saw her, in 1794, and on the 26th of July, 1797, they were married at the Church of All-Hallows. Soon afterward his father became President, and he was transferred to Berlin, where he repaired with his wife as a bride, to play her part 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 makino- friends and conciliatinof a de- gree of good-will, the recollection of which is, even at this distance of time, believed to be among the most ag-reeable of the associations with her varied life. In 1 80 1, 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 husband in Boston. Here she determined to be satisfied and live with a people whom in feeling she was not unlike, but scarcely was she beginning to feel at home when Mr. Adams was elected Senator, and she removed 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 pleas- antly away. Each summer she returned to Boston, and thus alternatinor between there and Washington in win- 240 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. ter, she passed the eight years of Jefferson's term. To many, the capital was an out-of-the way place, and not al- ways pleasant to Congressmen's wives, some of whom 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 separated many years. It became home to her, and to a Southerner, the climate was more congenial than the region of her husband's birthplace. Mr. Adams, called by President Madison, to embark for Russia as our first accredited minister, Mrs. Adams determined to cro, even at the cost of leavino- her two eldest 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 were consumed in getting from one country to another; when weary weeks of summer merged into winter before the barrier between the old and the new world could be passed. Yet how often had members of that family braved dangers unknown to perform some duty in the other world. Far back into the past, their Puritan ancestors had found a refucre on "wild New England's shore," and in that interval, the waters of the sea had wafted the children of the third and fourth gen- erations over its crested waves, to ask for the heritage their forefathers claimed — liberty of conscience, and freedom to worship God. RESIDENCE IN RUSSIA. 24 1 Years before, a brave, strong woman had, \vit!i 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 ex- tremest anguish as she thought of her weeping children, for the first time separated from her. She felt the great distance and doubtful prospects of hearing from them, not less keenly than she did the length of time which might elapse before she again would tread the shores of her native land. And the bleak climate to which shu was hastening in nowise tended to make her cheerful , nor did the fact that Mr. Adams was the first Minister, allay her anxious sadness. Never, perhaps, in the his- tory of the world, were such scenes being enacted as now-. Europe was literally a battle-field, and Napoleon, the scourge of the continent, was ruling, by the mighty force of his g^reat skill, the destinies of the Old World. Shut up in St. Petersburg, Mrs. Adams gathered ru- mors 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 Russia, what won- drous things transpired! What intense interest marked 16 242 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. 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," said his son, " lived there poor, studious, ambitious and secluded, on ihe narrow basis of the parch- ment of his commission, respected for learning and tal- ents, but little given to the costly entertainments of an opulent and ostentatious court circle. But the extraor- dinary mission could afford and was entitled to more expensive circulation in the splendid palaces of a mag- nificent 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 parsimony in- duces, if not justifies." The war between England and America broke out in the meantime, and communication was almost entirely cutoff. British ships cruised about our ports to capture peaceful vessels, and thundered their cannon at the cap- ital of the country. While Mrs. Adams grew tired and weary of her cheerless abode in that far, northern climate, British troops were busy devastating the country round about her old home, and burninof the mansion which later in life she was to occupy. Completely cut off from all that made life dear, Mr. Adams hoped for some oppor- tunity to be recalled, and restore his divided family to AMERICAN ini)i:pl:ni)Knck at stake. 243 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 commissioners repaired to St. Petersburg, ac- companied by Mr. Payne Todd, the stepson of President Madison, whose simple position in America was exag- gerated by European mistake to princely position. Their coming was a source of pleasure to Mrs. Adams, whose time had been spent so quiedy, and it was her hope to return with them ; but while the commissioners enjoyed themselves with the sights of the Russian capital, g^reat changes were taking place on the continent, and lliey were unaware how radical they were. 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 hearts of those patriots trembled when they thought of the future. The Russian mediation failed, but the commissioners afterward met at Ghent, where delays succeeded each other until 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 neces- sitated the presence of Mr. Adams at Ghent, and it was thought best she should remain in Russia. The state of Eu- rope, restless and revolutionary, was considered another 244 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. argument in favor of her remaining, and consequently Mr, Adams set out without her. Alone in that place where she had lived five years, where she had buried one child, and where she hoped her husband would soon re- join her, she passed the sixth winter, and wished only for the spring to come to release herself and son from their exile. 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 he>;: trial was in proportion to her strength, and if she did ncit go home, her children came to her afterward.* Spring at last came, on the almanac at least, if not in the gor- geous beauty it was wont to appear in her far-off south- ern home, and she was advised to travel by land to rejoin her husband at Paris, whither he had gone from Ghent. The difficulties 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 journeys, rogues, and dangers of every conceivable kind, set out with her child to travel to France. Hers must have been an indomitable spirit, else the lonely days of constant travel through villages and wild, uncultivated countries, where every inanimate thing bore traces of '• * Mrs. Adams had four children, three sons and a daughter. I. George Wash, ington Adams, born in Berlin, I2th April, i8oi. 2. John Adams, born in Boston, 4th July, 1S03. 3. Charles Francis Adams, born in Boston, August l8th, 1807. 4. Louisa Catherine Adams, born in St. Petersburg, August 12th, 181 1, and died there the next year. FASTENED IX A SNOW-DRIFT. 245 crlm-visaofed war, would have convinced her of the risk she was running. With the passports of the Russian government, and the strong recommendation of being the American minister's wife, she bade adieu to all ap- prehensions, and risked all to only get nearer to home and children. Her son, in speaking of this time, said : " In such circumstances, to be fastened in a snow-drift with night coming on, and to be forced to rouse the peasants of the surrounding country to dig them out, which happened in Courland, was no slicjlit matter. But it was of little sio-- nificance compared to the complicated anxieties incident to the listening, at every stopping-place, to the tales of jobbery and murder just committed on the proposed loute, so perpetually repeated at that time to the travel- ler; and to the warnings given by apparently friendly persons of the character of her own servants, corrobo- rated by the loss of several articles of value, and, most - of the Speaker's chair, and the three outer rows of the members' seats, were occupied by a splendid array of beauty and fashion. On the left, the Diplomatic Corps, in the costume of their respective courts, occupied the place assigned them, immediately before the steps which led to the chair. The officers of the army and navy were scattered in groups throughout 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 marshals, 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 Pres- 260 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS, ident-elect, followed by the venerable ex-President Mon^ roe, with his family. To these succeeded the Judges of the Supreme Court, in their robes of office, the mem- bers of the Senate, preceded by the Vice-President, Avith a number of the members of the House of Repre- sentatives. 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 sa t the remaining judges, with their faces toward the chair. The doors having been closed and silence proclaimed, Mr. Adams arose, and in a distinct and firm 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 hiin and his venerated predecessor had in it something pecu- liarly 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 spirit which can see no merit in a rival, and feel no joy in the honor of a competitor. Shortly after i o'clock, the procession commenced leav- ing the hall. The President 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 con- VISIT OF LAFAYEITK. 26 1 gratulations. The proceedings of the day were closed by an inaugural ball in the evening. Among the guests present were the President and Vice-President, ex-Pres- ident Monroe, a number of foreign ministers, with many civil, military and naval officers.* Mrs. Adams gave up the comforts of her home, and took possession of the White House soon after the in- auguration. The spring and summer wore quietly away, for even in the White House, gayety was confined to the winter season, and save the visits of friends, nothing occurred to vary the quiet of every-day life. Her chil- dren were a consolation to her in her infirm condition, for her health failed her as soon as she moved into the President's house- It was the happy fortune of Mrs. Adams to be the occupant of the White House when Lafayette visited the United States, who at the invitation of the President spent the last weeks of his stay at the Executive Mansion, and from there, on the 7th of September, 1825, bade an affecting farewell to the land of his adoption. As the last sentence of this farewell address was pronounced, Lafayette advanced and took President Adams in his arms, while tears poured down his ven- erable cheeks. Retiring a few paces, he was over- come by his feelings, and again returned and falling on the neck of Mr. Adams, exclaimed in broken accents, "God bless you." The sighs and tears of the many * National Intelligencer, 1825. 262 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. assembled bore testimony to the affecting solemnity of the scene. Having recovered his self-possession, the General stretched out his hands, and was in a moment surrounded by the greetings of the whole assembly, who pressed upon him, each eager to seize, perhaps for the last time, that beloved hand which was opened so freely for our aid when aid was so precious, and which grasped with firm and undeviating hold the steel which so bravely helped to achieve our deliverance. The expression which now beamed from the face of this exalted man was of the finest and most touching kind. The hero was lost in the father and the friend. Dignity melted into subdued affection, and the friend of Wash- ington seemed to linQfer with a mournful delipht amone the sons of his adopted country. A considerable period was then occupied in convers- ing with various individuals, while refreshments were presented to the company. The moment of departure at length arrived ; and having once more pressed the hand of Mr. Adams, he entered the barouche, accom- panied by the Secretaries of State, of the Treasury, and of the Navy, and passed from the capital of the Union. The whole scene — the peals of artillery, the sounds of numerous military bands, the presence of the vast con- course of people, and the occasion that assembled them, produced emotions not easily described, but which every American heart can readily conceive. In the following September, she accompanied her husband on a visit to his aged father at Quincy, but TWO IMPORTANT EVENTS. 263 being taken very ill at Philadelphia, the President was compelled to proceed without 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 patriarch had lived to see his country emancipated from foreign thraldom, its in- dependence acknowledged, its union consummated, its prosperity and perpetuity resting on an immovable foun- dation, and his son elevated to the hifrhest oflice in its gift. It was enough! His work accomplished — the book of his eventful life written and sealed for im- mortality — he w^as ready to depart and be at peace. The 4th of July, 1826, will long be memorable for one of the most rem.arkable coincidences that have ever taken place in the history of nations. It was the fiftieth anniversary, the jubilee of American Independence! Preparations had been made throughout the Union to celebrate the day with unusual pomp and displa)-. John Adams and Thomas Jefferson had both been invited to participate in the festivities of the occasion, at their sev- eral 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 the day, the spirits of Adams and Jefferson took their departure from earth ! Amid the rejoicings of the peo- ple, the peals of artillery, the strains of music, the exul- tations 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." 264 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. These two patriarchs had been corresponding regu- larly, and their letters had attracted the attention of Eu- rope 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." The editor of the London Morning Chronicle prefaces his notice of this correspondence with the following 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, temper- ance, and philosophy, presents to the heart-sickening details occasionally disclosed to us, of the miserable beings who fill the thrones of the continent. There is not, perhaps, one sovereign of the continent, who in any s';nse of the word can be said to honor our nature, while iiiany make us almost ashamed of it. The curtain is seldom drawn aside without exhibitinof to us beines worn out with vicious indulgence, diseased in mind, if not in body, the creatures of caprice and insensibility. On the other hand, since the foundation of the Ameri- can Republic, the chair has never been filled by a man for whose life (to say the least) any American need once to blush. It must, therefore, be some compensa- tion 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." LEAVES THE WHITE HOUSE. 265 The administration of Mr. Adams was remarkable for the peace and prosperity of the country, and there was therefore no event in Mrs. Adams' social life of a stirring nature. Her husband was certainly the most learned man who has yet occupied the Presidential chair. No one at all acquainted with his life will deny this asser- tion. Profoundly versed in the lore of the ancients, he was yet more thoroughly acquainted with the history ot modern governments, and was a deep thinker, as well as an eloquent speaker. A Southern clergyman visited him durinof his administration, and was astonished to find he was intimately acquainted with all sects and creeds, and bad read every book he could mention. Finally he re- membered one work of importance, and asked if he had lead it. Mr. Adams had not, whereupon the minister, delighted with his success, told it everywhere and was afterward known as the man who had read one more book than John Ouincy Adams. Mrs. Adams retired from the White House with heartfelt pleasure, and sought the quiet her delicate health demanded. The followinof interestincr account of an interview with ex-President Adams, by a Southern gendeman, in 1834, affords some conception of the home of Mrs. Adams at Ouincy. "Yesterday, accompanied by my friend T., I paid a visit to the venerable ex-President, at his residence in Ouincy. A violent rain setting in as soon as we ar- rived, gave us from five to nine o'clock to listen to the 266 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. learning 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) was furnished in true republican style. It is probably of ancient con- struction, as I perceived two beams projecting from the 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 ; common straw matting covered the floor, and two candlesticks, bearing sperm candles, ornamented the mantel-piece. The personal appearance of the ex-President himself corre- sponds with the simplicity of his furniture. He resem- bles rather a substantial, well-fed farmer, than one who has wielded the destinies of this mighty confederation, and been bred in the ceremony and etiquette of a European court. In fact, he appears 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 resources with the certainty of one who has his lecture before him ready written. The whole of his conversation, which steadily he maintained for nearly four hours, was a con- AGAIN IN WASHINGTON. 267 tinued stream of liofht. 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 particularly. On this subject, his opinion of Mrs. Nightingale's monument in West- minster Abbey differs from all others that I have seen or heard. He places it above every other in the Abbey, and observed in relation to it, tliat the spectator * saw nothing else.' Milton, Shakespeare, Shenstone, Pope, Byron, and Southey were in turn remarked upon. He gave Pope a w^onderfully high character, and remarked that one of his chief beauties was the skill exhibited in ranging the ccsural 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 re- markable 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 mo- ment ; 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 268 LOUISA CATHERINE ADAMS. fidelity and ever increasing honor and power. Mr. Adams took his seat in the House of Representatives in December, 1831, and he lived in his own house sit- uated on I street. For fifteen years he was a member of Congress, residing continually at Washington, al- though making frequent visits to his old home. More than fourscore years had left their impress 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 Washing- ton, he was walking out with a friend to visit a new medical college, and was attacked by the way. After several weeks, he improved sufficiently to return to his duties at the capital, but never afterward entirely re- covered. 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 disease. He vyas removed to the Speaker's apartment, borne on a sofa by several members, and plasters applied, which seemed to relieve him. Mrs. Adams was sent for, and on his recovering consciousness, was gladdened by her presence in answer to his inquiry for her. She was in extreme illness and suffering acute pain, but remained beside him, sustained by her niece and nephew. Mr. Adams lay in the Speaker's room in a state of apparent unconsciousness through the 2 2d and 23d — Congress, in the mean time, assembling in respectful silence, and DEATH OI- MR. ADAMS. 269 immediately adjourning from day to day. At seven o'clock on the evening of the 23d he died. President Polk issued a Proclamation announcing his death, and orders were issued from all the Departments 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 Congressional bur)ing-ground, to re- main until the completion of the preparations for the removal to Quincy. The following letter of thanks from Mrs. Adams, addressed to the Speaker, was laid before the House of Representatives : " Washington, February iQ,(h, 1848. "Sir: — 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 manifested by your honorable body, and the consolation derived to me nnd mine from the reflection that the unwearied efforts of an old public servant have not even in this world proved ^JO LOUISA CATHERINP: ADAMS. without tlieir reward in the generous appreciation of them by his country. " With great respect, I remain, Sir, your obedient servant, "Louisa Catherine Adams." On the following week, the remains of the deceased ex-President were conveyed to Ouincy, accompanied by a. committee of one from each State and Territory in the Union. After this sad event in Mrs. Adams' Hfe, she lived uninterruptedly at her home in Quincy, enjoying the society of her children and relations. Mr. Charles Francis Adams thus closes a letter reearding- his mother: " I should be very glad to be of service to you if I were possessed of the material which you desire in connection with the life of my mother. But I fear they at^e not to be found among the papers left by her. She wrote 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 way. 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- HER DEATH. 27 T rupt the even tenor of her Hfe and disincHne her to the efforts required for general society, especially diirinor her twelve years spent at different courts in Europe." Mrs. Adams died the 14th of May, 1852, and was buried by the side of her husband, in the family burying- ground at Quincy, Massachusetts. VII. RACHEL JACKSON. The cruel misrepresentations of political opponents had crushed the heart of Rachel Jackson, and ended her days before her husband took possession of the Home of the Presidents. She was denied the erati- fication of accompanying him to Washington, and of ofracinor the White House, but she was even i/t death the President's wife, and as such is ranked. I.u his heart she lived there, the object of the most death- less and exalted affection, the spiritual comforter and companion of his 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 w^as 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 '272^ u / REMOVAL TO TENNESSEE. 2/3 and pursued their congenial calling-, even after death had taken him from their sight forever. Down from the 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 truthfulness. In 1779 Colonel John Donelson, 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 pioneers, who had engaged to build hut.";, 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 c f those adventurous pioneers. The country was full of Indians, the forests deejt, wild and unexplored, and the perils very great. la 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 project such a voyage. They sailed down the Holston river to the Tennessee, down the Tennessee to its junction with the Ohio, up the Ohio till 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 ac- count of this remarkable and perilous voyage, "entitled. 274 RACHEL JACKSON. "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 Cumber- land river, kept by John Donelson," and the thrilling incidents and remarkable personal adventures are deeply interesting. They were four months on the journey, the sufferings and privations of which can scarcely be appreciated by the more fortunate who now travel the same way amid quiet woods, green fields, and peaceful country homes. To those adventurers, the dangerous points of the rivers were unknown, and many were the accidents 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 wildest, most romantic, and lonely spot on this continent is the "Whirl," in the Ten- nessee 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 one of the emigrants, was overturned and the little cargo was lost. The family had gone into a larger boat for safety. " The company," says Colonel 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 FRONTIER LIFE. 275 going- up to the place, when the Indians, to our astonish- ment, appeared immediately over us on the opposite cliffs, and commenced firing down upon us, which occa- sioned a precipitate retreat to the boats. We immedi- ately moved off." One of this intrepid little band of emigrants, sharing in its hardships and dangers, was Rachel Donelson, the daughter of Col. John Donelson. She was then a bright- eyed, black-haired, sprightly, pretty child of about twelve years. On the 24th of April, 1780, they reached the little settlement of log-cabins that Captain Robertson and his band had made ready for them. But perils and priva- tions 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 ;\.nd in strength ; such was the intrepidity and the per- severing 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 iron works in Pittsylvania County, 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 Burgesses, and had re- peatedly represented the counties of Campbell and Pitt- sylvania. Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry were his personal friends ; he held commissions under each of them to execute important trusts, such as the survey 276 RACHEL JACKSON. of State lines, the negotiating of treaties with Indians, or establishing the authority of the State over distant terri- tory. His confidence in General Washington was im- plicit, and the earnestness with which he spoke his sentiments had a most happy and conservative influence over the people of the West. The little colony soon began to suffer from the insufficient supply of corn and of powder and lead, and as the family of Colonel Donel- son numbered many children and servants, he concluded to remove with them to Kentucky. He had in that State, moreover, land claims which he could more easily atteni'l to and secure by being there. During his residence there, his daughter Rachel was married to Lewis Robards, a man of good family. She had grown up amid the trials and dangers of a frontier life, but the examples that sh f^ daily saw of noble fortitude, of calm bravery, and of heroic labor were worth many a tamer and weaker lesson of more civilized life. She grew up accomplished in the higher art of making home attractive and relatives happy. She was at the same time lively and gentle, gifted with patience and prudence, and winning in her simple and unaffected manners. Soon after his dauofhter's marriao^e, Colonel Donelson returned to Tennessee with his family. In the fall of 1785, while surveying in the woods far from home, this •, brave and gallant gentleman was pierced by bullets from an unseen foe, and died the same night. Judge John Overton, then a young lawyer, in the fall of 1787, went to Mercer County, Kentucky, and became a boarder in AN UNIIArrV MARRIAGE. 277 the family of Mrs. Robards, where Lewis Robards and his wife were Hving. Judge Overton was not long in discovering that they lived very unhappily, because Cap- tain Robards was jealous of a gentleman named Short. His disposition was extremely unfortunate, and kept the whole family in uneasiness and distress. This unpleasant state of affairs continued to increase until Captain Robards wrote to his mother-in-law, the widowed Mrs. Donelson, requesting that she would take her daughter home, as he did not intend to live with her any longer. .Some time in the latter part of 1 788, Samuel Donelson