-v --
A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
MRS. CLAY
of Alabama
A Belle of the Fifties
Memoirs of Mrs. Clay, of Alabama,
covering Social and Political Life in
Washington and the South, 1853-66
Put into narrative form by Ada Sterling
IlluttrateJ from contemporary portraits
New York
Doubleday, Page & Company
1905
T
C63
Copyright, 1904, by
Doubleday, Page & Company
Published, September, 1904
THE DEAR MEMORY OF THE HUSBAND OF MY YOUTH
CLEMENT CLAIBORNE CLAY
VIRGINIA CLAY-CLOPTON
PREFACE
THE memoirs of 'Mrs. Clay, of Alabama/ 1 by which
title Mrs. Clement C. Clay, Jr. (now Mrs. Clay-Clopton) ,
was known during the period comprised by 1850-87,
begin in the middle of the second decade of the nineteenth
century, the scenes being laid among the affluent planta-
tions of North Carolina and Alabama, and, continuing
through two brilliant administrations at the national
capital, close, as she emerges from the distresses which
overtook her and her husband after the never-to-be-
forgotten tragedy that plunged a nation into mourning
the death of Mr. Lincoln.
In the researches made in order to obviate all possible
inaccuracies in these memoirs (a precaution always
necessary where one's life has been long and experiences
so varied), I have come upon no record of any other
woman of her time who has filled so powerful a place
politically, whose belleship has been so long sustained,
or whose magnetism and compelling fascinations have
swayed others so universally as have those of Mrs. Clay-
Clopton. In the unrestful days at the capital which
preceded the Civil War her winning personality was
such as to cause even those whom she esteemed the
enemies of her section, in those days when 'sections'
were, to be covetous of her smiles. At no period of her
long career have her unique courage, her beautiful
optimism, her inspiring buoyancy been more accentuated
than during the making of the present book. The recall-
ing of incident after incident, step by step, of so great a
procession of memories as are here set down is a task
Vll
PREFACE
from which many persons of twoscore years might
shrink. At the ripe age of almost eight decades Mrs. Clay-
Clopton entered into the work with a heart as light as. a
girl's and a sustained energy and enthusiasm that have
been as remarkable as they are unparalleled. While
preparing these pages I enjoyed a daily intercourse with
her extending over eight months, during which time I
often found myself spellbound by the descriptive powers
which nearly a half century ago compelled the admira-
tion of leading men and women of that day.
"My wife was amazed at your eloquence," wrote
Attorney -General Jeremiah Black in 1866, and in suc-
ceeding letters urged Mrs. Clay to put her experiences
with Messrs. Johnson, Holt and Stanton into book form.
To these and urgings as powerful from many quarters,
reiterated during the past forty years, until the present
work was undertaken, Mrs. Clay-Clopton has remained
indifferent. Her recollections of a long life are now
gathered in response to a wide and insistently expressed
desire to see them preserved in a concrete form ere the
crowding years shall have made impossible the valuable
testimony she is able to bear to ante-bellum and bellum
conditions in her dearly loved South land. To that
end many friends of Mrs. Clay-Clopton have lent an
eager aid, and it is an acknowledgment due to them that
their names be linked here with the work they have so
lovingly fostered.
The inception of the work as now presented is primarily
due to Mrs. Milton Humes, of Abingdon Place, Hunts-
ville, Alabama, a daughter of the late Governor Chapman,
of that State, and the friend from her childhood of Mrs.
Clay-Clopton. For many years Mrs. Humes has ardently
urged upon our heroine the necessity for preserving her
rich memories as a legacy, not alone to the South, but to
all lovers of the romantic and eventful in our national
viii
PREFACE
history, to whatsoever quarter of the country they may
claim a particular allegiance. Through Mrs. Humes
Mrs. Clay-Clopton and I met ; through her unintermitting
energy obstacles that at first threatened to postpone the
beginning of the work were removed, and from these
initial steps she has brought a very Minerva-like wisdom
and kindness to aid the work to its completion. At the
instance of Mrs. Humes General Joseph Wheeler lent me
a valuable sympathy; through the courtesy of General
Wheeler General James H. Wilson, to whom Clement
C. Clay, Jr., surrendered in 1865, kindly gave his con-
sideration to the chapters of the memoirs in which he
personally is mentioned, correcting one or two minor
inaccuracies, such as misapplied military titles. Through
the continued forethought of Mrs. Humes and General
Wheeler Colonel Henry Watterson's attention was
directed to the work, and he, too, generously scanned the
manuscript then ready, at a considerable expense of time,
guiding my pen, all untutored in political phrases, from
some misleading slips. I owe a large debt of gratitude
to Colonel Robert Barnwell Rhett, who, though an invalid
while I was a guest of Mr. and Mrs. Humes in Huntsville,
gave his unsparing counsels to me, enlightening me as to
personages and events appertaining to the formation of
the Confederate Government, which would have been
unobtainable from any books at present known to me.
For the acquaintance with Colonel Rhett I am, on behalf
of the memoirs and for my personal pleasure, again the
debtor of Mrs. Humes.
The aid of Mrs. Paul Hammond, formerly of Beech
Island, South Carolina, but now residing in Jacksonville,
Florida, has been peculiarly valuable. Possessed of a fine
literary taste, a keen observer, and retaining a vivid
recollection of the personages she encountered when a
debutante under Mrs. Clay's chaperonage in 185 7^*58 in
ix
PREFACE
Washington, the six or seven weeks over which our
intercourse extended were a continual striking of rare
lodes of incident, which lay almost forgotten in the
memory of her kinswoman, Mrs. Clay-Clopton, but which
have contributed greatly to the interest of certain chap-
ters dealing with Washington life in antebellum days.
Thanks are due to Mrs. Bettie Adams for her unsparing
efforts to facilitate the getting together of the necessary
manuscripts to support, and, in some instances, to
authenticate and amplify the remembrances carried by our
heroine of the crucial times of the great internecine war ;
to Miss Jennie Clay, who in her editorial pursuits discov-
ered special dates and records and placed them at my
disposal in order that the repetition of certain commonly
accepted errors might be avoided ; and to Mrs. Frederick
Myers of Savannah, daughter of Mrs. Philip Phillips, who
sent for my perusal (thereby giving me valuable sidelights
on the times of '61-62), her mother's letters from Ship
Island, together with the latter 's journal, kept during
her imprisonment by General Benjamin F. Butler.
The letters of Judge John A. Campbell, contributed by
his daughter, Mrs. Henrietta Lay, have been so well
prized that they have become part of the structure of
her friend's memoirs; to Mrs. Lay, therefore, also to Mrs.
Myra Knox Semmes, of New Orleans, Mrs. Cora Semmes
Ives, of Alexandria, Virginia; Mrs. Corinne Goodman, of
Memphis, Tennessee ; Mrs. Mary Glenn Brickell, of Hunts-
ville, Alabama; Mrs. George Collins Levey, of England,
and Judge John V. Wright, of Washington, B.C., thanks
are hereby given for incidents recalled and for suggestive
letters received since the work on the memoirs began.
ADA STERLING.
NEW YORK CITY, September 15, 1904.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE.
A Bit of Family History Plantation Scenes in North Caro-
lina and Alabama A Caravan of the Early Thirties "De
Year de Stars Fell" I Partially "Scalp" My Cousin The
Strange Experience of an Early Alabama Instructress Miss
Brooks, a Distinguished Educator My Uncle Takes My
Training in Hand A First Flight into the Beautiful World
Charles Kean and Ellen Tree I Meet a Famous Belle
Mme. Le Vert Instructs Me in the Dance An Intense
Love Affair My Knight Fails Me A Gallant Lover
Appears Social Doings at a Primitive Capital Poet-
swains in the Early Forties A Dance with Willam L.
Yancey My Premonitions Are Realised and "My Own
Comes to Me" Marriage in the Morn of Life The Home-
coming of the Bride
CHAPTER II. WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE
FIFTIES.
Journey to the Capital An Early "Congressional Limited"
A Stump Orator of Alabama, the "Maker of Senators"
Arrival at the Capital The Night Clerk Refuses Us
Accommodations at the National Hotel Undercurrents
of Strife in Society Mrs. Pierce Pennsylvania Avenue in
the Fifties Survey of Washington's Hostesses Mme. de
Bodisco and the Glac6es Her Second Marriage at Old
St. John's Foreign Legations Reminiscence of Octavia
Walton in Washington Mrs. Riggs Gives a Midnight
Supper to Patti Heller Appears; Likewise the Grand
Elephant Hannibal ...
PAGE
CHAPTER III.
"MESS."
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL
Our Mess at Historic Brown's Hotel and at the Ebbitt
House Mrs. Pugh and the Baron Hulseman The Boy
Henry Watterson Congressmen Clopton, Curry, Dowdell,
L. Q. C. Lamar, and Shorter, Senator Fitzpatrick, and
Their Wives Mr. Dowdell Goes to Hear Gottschalk
Circumstances of the Sudden Death of Preston Brooks
xi
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
The Stockton Mansion and Its Romances Our "Mess"
Considers the Prudence of Calling on a Certain Lady
Retribution Overtakes Us Master Benny, the Hotel Terror 42
CHAPTER IV. THE CABINET CIRCLES OF PRESI-
DENTS PIERCE AND BUCHANAN.
Washington in 1856 Secret Visit of President Pierce
Personal Recollections of Him Secretaries Marcy, Gushing,
and Dobbin Incidents of the Latter's Kindness of
Heart Secretary of War Jefferson Davis Postmaster-
General Brown Secretary of State Guthrie Story of
the Conquest of Chevalier Bertinatti . . . . 58
CHAPTER V. SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL.
Society of Supreme Court Circles Chief Justice Taney
Judge Campbell Professors Henry and Maury A Visit
to the Latter's Observatory Thomas Hart Benton
George Wallace Jones : His Romantic History as Surveyor-
General of the Great Northwest. At the Age of Ninety-
one He Recalls a Day When He Meant to Kill Seward
Meeting with Myra Clarke Gaines Senator and Mrs.
Critten den, a "Perfectly Happy Woman" 73
CHAPTER VI. FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES.
Aspect of Fashionable Society of the Pierce and Bu-
chanan Administrations Perditas of the Period Low
Necks and Lace Berthas Kind Offices of American
Consuls Mr. Thomson and Miss Lane's Toy Terrier He
Reports Upon the Petticoats at Brighton Washington
Dressmakers as Miracle- Workers Mrs. Rich, a True
Reconstructionist Belles and Beaux of the Period
Barton Key His Murder Mrs. Sickles at Home
Revival of Moustaches General Sam Houston ; His Strange
Attire A Glimpse of This Hero in the Senate and in
Society . ........ 86
CHAPTER VII. THE RELAXATIONS OF CONGRES-
SIONAL FOLK.
Public Recreation Flights to New York Jenny Lind
Charlotte Cushman Mrs. Gilbert and the Come-
dian Brougham in "Pocahontas" Mr. Thackeray Dr.
Maynard Blind Tom at the White House Marine
Band Concerts on the White House Lawn President
xii
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
Pierce and the Countryman President Buchanan and
the Indians Apothleohola, a Cherokee Patriarch Dr.
Morrow and the Expedition to Japan Return of Same
Ruse of the Oriental Potentate to Prevent Our Securing
Germinating Rice A Plague of Japanese Handkerchiefs . 101
CHAPTER VIII. THE BRILLIANT BUCHANAN AD-
MINISTRATION.
Miss Lane Becomes Lady of the White House Her Influ-
ence on Washington Life The Coming of Lord and Lady
Napier Their Hospitality They Give a Ball to Lords
Cavendish and Ashley Mrs. Crittenden Puts to Rout a
Younger Belle Lord Napier Proposes a Toast to the
Chevalier Bayard Washington Citizens Give a Ball to
the Napiers, at Which James Gordon Bennett Is Seen in the
Dance Some Prominent Citizen Hostesses Lilly Price,
the Future Duchess of Marlborough Mr. W. W. Corcoran
His Lavish Entertainments Howell Cobb's Apprecia-
tion A Stranger's Lack of It I Take the Daughter of a
Constituent to See the Capitol . . . . .114
CHAPTER IX. A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT.
Mrs. Gwin's Fancy Ball To the White House for Inspection
Aunt Ruthy Partington Presents Herself to Mrs. Gwin
Mrs. Pendleton is Mystified Senator Gwin and "My
Boy Ike" Lord and Lady Napier and Others of "Our
Furrin Relations" The Squelching of a Brave Balti-
morean Senator Seward Gives Welcome to the Stranger
from Beanville Mr. Shillaber Offers "to Immortalise" Me 126
CHAPTER X. EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY
FROM THE FEDERAL CITY.
Gayety Begins to Wane in the Capital A Wedding in
Old St. John's Lord Lyons Replaces the Napiers
Anson Burlingame Rescues Me from a Dilemma Politi-
cal Climax Scenes in the Senate Admiral Semmes
Declares His Intentions Mr. Ruffin's Menacing Arsenal
Ex-President Tyler's Grief We Hear News from Morris
Island Senators Clay, Davis, Fitzpatrick, Mallory, and
Yulee Withdraw from the Senate Visits of Representa-
tives Pendleton and Vallandigham, and Senator Pugh, of
Ohio Joseph Holt Writes Deploring the Possible Loss to
Our Country of Senator Clay's "Genius and Patriotism"
"A Plain New Hampshire Minister" Writes of the Times
We Leave the Federal City Mrs. Philip Phillips De-
xiii
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
scribes It a Few Weeks Later Blair's Alarm at Loss of
Lee, Magruder, and Other "Good Officers" . . .138
CHAPTER XI. WAR Is PROCLAIMED.
I Go with Senator Clay to Minnesota "Let's Mob the
Fire-eater" We See Our First Federal Soldiers at Cairo
Echoes of Sumter Once More in the Blossomy South
In Picturesque Huntsville We Hear from Montgomery
of President Davis's Unceasing Industry A Survey of
Huntsville The "Plebs" and Aristocrats Compete for
the Naming of the Town, and the Descendants of a Poet
Give Way before Its Discoverer A Nursing Mother of
Alabama's Great Men The Fascinations of the Fair Vixens
of the Early Nineteenth Century A Baptism at the Big
Spring The Make-up of Our Army in '61 We Hear from
a Hero at Harper's Ferry Letters from Washington We
Prepare to Go to Richmond . . . . . 153
CHAPTER XII. RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL
CAPITAL.
We Arrive in Richmond, Where We Meet Many Old Friends
An Evening at the Mallorys' We Establish Our Mess
at Mrs. Du Val's Some of Our Heroes We Feast on
Oysters and Terrapin Greenbacks, Canvas-backs, and
Drawbacks We Hear of the Fall of Nashville, and
General Buell's Designs Upon Huntsville Some of Rich-
mond's Hostesses Mrs. Stannard entertains ; and the Fa-
mous Private Theatrical Performance of 'The Rivals"
Mrs. Burton Harrison Recalls Her Triumph as Lydia
Languish The Caste Mrs. Drew Acts as "Coach"
Mrs. Ives, Our Hostess, Is Saved from Stage Fright by a
Bonnet Which Has Run the Blockade . . . .168
CHAPTER XIII. GLIMPSES OP OUR BELEAGUERED
SOUTH LAND.
Richmond in '62 John A. Campbell Gives an Opinion
on Confederate Money An Exodus from the Capital
Mrs. Roger A. Pryor Rebukes a Contemptuous Lady
Our Mail a Pandora's Box News of New Orleans
William L. Yancey Returns from a Fruitless Trip to
England And Mr. Lamar from Russia An Astronomer
Turns Martinet A Careful Search Is Made for General Pope
Walker Our Pastor's Prayers Curtailed The Federals
Are Worried by General Roddy Miss Mitchell "Con-
fiscates" Some of My Property " Hey ! Git off 'Ginie
xiv
CONTENTS Continued
Clay's Mare!" General Logan, a Case of Mistaken
Identity My Refugee Days Begin A Glimpse of North
Carolinian Hospitality And of the Battle of Seven Pines
The Seed-corn of Our Race Is Taken Return to Hunts-
PAGE
I 7 8
CHAPTER XIV. REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA.
Detained in Macon General Tracy Tells of Conditions at
Vicksburg Senator Clay Writes of Grave Conditions in
Richmond A War-time Dinner with President Davis
My Sister and I Turn Seamstresses Looking for Big
Battles Travel in '63 Cliff and Sid Lanier Write from
"Tented Field" News from "Homosassa"
193
CHAPTER XV. CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR., DEPARTS
FOR CANADA.
A Memory of Dahlgren's Raid Mr. Clay Accepts a Mission
to Canada Mr. Lamar's Ideas on National Friendships
My Husband Takes His Departure Troubled Petersburg
and Still More Troubled Richmond Hospital Experiences
My Sister Accuses Me of "Running from Yankees," and
Overtakes Me We Nurse a Sick Soldier I Get a Pass-
port, but Fail to Use It A Distinguished Watermelon
JLVJ. ct 1 1 * *
203
CHAPTER XVI. THE SOUTH'S DEPARTED GLORIES.
A Typical Plantation Senator Hammond's Little Republic
on Beech Island Its General Influence The Mill and the
Miller My Cousin, Mrs. Paul Hammond, Writes a De-
scription of "Redcliffe" The Hammond Negro as I Have
Found Him She Wins Them by Subterfuge Senator Clay
Dances a Highland Fling and Startles Some Gentle Metho-
dists St. Catharine's; a Solemn Service There A Sight
for Abolitionists Choristers of the Field A Comparison
211
CHAPTER XVII. CONDITIONS IN '63 AND '64.
Cost of Clothing Scarcity of Necessities Memphis in
Yankee Hands Revival of Spinning and Weaving A
Salt Famine Senator Hammond's Sagacity Potato
Coffee and Peanut Chocolate Mrs. Redd Weaves Me a
Notable Dress London Takes Note of Richmond Fashions
I Send a List of "Desirables" to Mr. Clay in Canada
Novelties for the Toilette and Writing-Table Difficulties
of Getting News The President Writes _ Me of My
Absent One, and Secretary Mallory Rejoices at His
xv
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
Conduct of Canadian Interest Postal Deficiencies Ad-
ventures of an Editor Price of Candles Rises Telegrams
Become Costly and My Sister Protests " Redcliffe" Mourns
Her Master Gloom and Apprehension at News of Sher-
man's March We Are Visited by Two of Wheeler's
Brigade They Give Us Warning and the Family Silver
Is Solemnly Sunk in the Ground I Hear a Story of
Sherman and Wheeler . . . . . . . 222
CHAPTER XVIII. THE DEATH OF MR. LINCOLN.
Conflicting Advice Reaches Me from the Capital Also
Sad News from Huntsville Our Brother Tells of Political
Opposition to the President Soldiers and Citizens Desire
the Presence of General Johnston in the Tennessee Mr.
Clay Communicates with Me by "Personals" I Beg to Be
Sent to Canada, but am Met by Opposition The President
Bids Me Take Refuge in the Capital But Another Urges
Me to Leave the Line of Sherman's Army I Place Myself
Under General Howell Cobb's Protection and Go to Macon
My Husband Runs the Blockade, but Is Shipwrecked
Off Fort Moultrie After Some Adventures He Reaches
Macon At the Home of General Toombs We Hear News
from Richmond Mr. Clay Makes for the Capital and
Reaches It He Returns to Georgia The Death of Mr.
Lincoln: "The Worst Blow Yet Struck at the South ! " . 235
CHAPTER XIX. C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS TO
GENERAL WILSON.
We Go to Lagrange A Nest of "Rebels" We Hear
of President Johnson's Proclamation Concerning Mr. Clay
My Husband Resolves to Surrender He Telegraphs to
General Wilson We Proceed to Atlanta Courtesy of
Colonel Eggleston He Gives Us a Guard On to Macon
"Madam, Your Chief Is Taken" Arrival at Macon
General Wilson Relieves Us of Our Guard The Generosity
of Women Friends We Drive to Station And See a
Pathetic Cortege " Say, Johnny Reb, We've Got Your
President!" . . . . " 246
CHAPTER XX. PRISONERS OP THE UNITED STATES.
We Have an All-Night Ride to Augusta Our Party of
Prisoners Augments I am Made Responsible for My
Husband's Appearance and We Go Visiting We Return
to Captivity I Board the Boat Somewhat Hastily
And Unexpectedly Find Myself in the Arms of General
Wheeler He Gives Me a Lesson in Forbearance A Dis-
xvi
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
mal Voyage We Reach Savannah and Are Transferred
to the Clyde Extracts from My Diary Mr. Davis's
Stoicism We Anchor Off Fortress Monroe Mr. Clay Is
Invited "to Take a Ride in a Tug" Pathetic Separa-
tion of the Davis Family Little Jeff Becomes Our
Champion We See a Gay Shallop Approaching Two
Ladies Appear and Search Us in the Name of the United
States Government A Serio-comic Encounter And Still
Another in Which "Mrs. Clay Lost Her Temper and
Counselled Resistance ! " We Undertake to Deceive
Lieutenant Hudson, but "Laugh on the Other Side" of
Our Faces !......... 258
CHAPTER XXI. RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE.
On Board the Clyde I Find a Guard at My Door An
Unknown Hands Me the Daily Papers The News I
Write to Thirteen Distinguished Men To Joseph Holt A
Friendly Soldier Posts My Letters We Arrive in Savannah
and Make Our Way to the Pulaski House Savannah's
Generous People Soldiers, Black and White The Chain-
ing of Mr. Davis I Write to General Miles Little
Jeff Makes a Friend "Bully for Jeff" "Mordecai and
Haman" .......... 269
CHAPTER XXII. RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN.
I Arrive in Macon After Various Discomforts My Baggage
Is "Examined" by General Baker A Curious Oversight
of the Government's Agents I Am Rescued from a
Dilemma by John A. Wyeth, Knight-Errant I Recover My
Letters from the War Department, but with Difficulty
A Stricken Patriarch and a Spartan Mother Huntsville
Metamorphosed ' ' Reconstruction ' ' Signs Appear A
Slave Emulates His New Masters He, too, in Time, Is
Metamorphosed The Freedman's Bureau versus "Ole
Missus's" Southern Ladies and Camomile Flowers . 278
CHAPTER XXIII. NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE.
We Hear Discouraging News of the Nation's Prisoners
Denunciation of Joseph Holt and His Witnesses by the
Reverend Stuart Robinson He Exposes the 'Infamous
Perjuries of the Bureau of Military Justice" Their Con-
fession and Flight from the Country Charles O'Conor
Writes Me; Also Ben Wood, Who Offers to Advance the
Cost of Mr. Clay's Defense; Also Judge Black Writes
Cheeringly I Hear Through R. J. Haldeman of the
Friendliness of Thaddeus Stevens; and from General
xvii
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
Miles; Also, in Time, from Mr. Clay His Letter Prophe-
sies Future Racial Conditions, and Advises Me How to
Escape the Evils to Come Freed from Espionage, He
Describes the "Comforts" of Life in Fortress Monroe One
of the Tortures of the Inquisition Revived . . . . 286
CHAPTER XXIV. ONCE MORE IN THE FEDERAL
CAPITAL.
Communications Are Reopened with Washington
Duff Green Makes Application to the President on My
Behalf I Hear from Mrs. Davis of Her Misfortunes I
Borrow $100 and Start for the Capital Scenes on Cars
and Boat I Meet Many Sympathisers And Arrive at
Last at Cincinnati Yankee Ideas and Yankee Notions
Mrs. Pugh Visits Me Also Senator and Mrs. Pendleton,
Who Take Me Home Once More en Route for Washing-
ton Within Its Precincts . . . . . .300
CHAPTER XXV. SECRETARY STANTON DENIES
RESPONSIBILITY.
Arrival at Willard's Expecting Enemies, I Find Many Old
Friends General Ihrie, of Grant's Staff, Calls On Me
Also a Nameless Lady Judge Hughes and Judge Black
Counsel Me I Visit the White House to Plead with Mr.
Johnson Mrs. Douglas Is My Companion Mr. Johnson
"Lives up to His Reputation" and Tells Me to See Mr.
Stanton Which I Do The Secretary's Manner "I
am Not Your Husband's Judge, Neither am I His Ac-
cuser" I Call Upon General Grant, Who Writes to
President Johnson on Behalf of Mr. Clay . . .307
CHAPTER XXVI. MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE
CASE OF C. C. CLAY, JR.
I Send General Grant's Letter to Mr. Johnson And
Beg to Be Allowed to Visit Fortress Monroe I Begin to Feel
the Strength of a Concealed Enemy I Refuse to Go to
Mr. Stanton, and Have a First Pass-at-Arms with the
President Mr. Holt Presents His "Report on the Case
of C. C. Clay, Jr. "His Several Opinions of Mr. Clay in
Parallel Denied an Examination of the Infamous Docu-
ment by the War Department, the President's "Official
Copy" Is Placed at My Disposal Some of Its Remarkable
Features The President Promises Me He Will Not
Deliver My Husband and Mr. Davis up to the Military
Court, and Agrees to Issue on His Own Responsibility a
Permit to Visit Fortress Monroe I Go to New York and
Hobnob with "An Old Abolitionist" . . '. .317
xviii
CONTENTS Continued
PAGE
CHAPTER XXVII. PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTER-
POSES.
President Johnson Issues a Permit on His Own Responsi-
bility I Leave Washington for Fortress Monroe And
Meet with Kindness on the Way Dr. Craven Admonishes
Me to Look for No Favours from His Successor I Meet
General Miles in His Headquarters, Which Have Been
Furnished by General Butler I Experience a Weary Delay
Am Refused Explanation or Use of Telegraph Wires
Dr. Vogell Intercedes At Nightfall I Am Taken to My
Husband's Cell I Return to the Capital Death of Mrs.
C. C. Clay, Sr. I Report to the President the Incidents
of My Visit to the Fortress He Assures Me They Shall Not
Be Repeated He Issues Another Permit and Promises to
Read a Letter in His Cabinet . . . . . 331
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE PRISON.
Again at the Fortress My Husband's Cell and Room in
Carroll Hall Some of the Comforts of Fortress Monroe
and of Mr. Clay's Position I am Told of Some of His
Experiences A Statement of Others Mr. Davis at the
Fortress An Exchange of Notes My Husband Turns
Caretaker With a Soft Answer He Turns Away a
Soldier's Wrath I Have a Curious Adventure in Which
I Meet a Lamb in Wolf's Clothing .... 345
CHAPTER XXIX. PRESIDENT JOHNSON HEARS
WHAT "THE PEOPLE SAY."
President Johnson Is Kind but Vacillating Straws That
Show a Veering of the Wind Colonel Rhett Talks with
Mr. Bennett, and the Herald Grows Curious as to the
Mysteriously Detained Prisoners Thaddeus Stevens
Writes to Mr. Johnson on Behalf of Mr. Clay I Have a
Nicodemus-like Visitor Mr. Wilson, Vice-President of
the United States, Writes to the President on Mr. Clay's
Behalf Signs of Political Disquiet Parties and Partisans
I Receive Some Political Advice and Determine to Act
Upon It I Have a rencontre in the Corridors of the White
House And Tell Mr. Johnson What "the People Say" 354
CHAPTER XXX. THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS
PRISONER.
Old Friends and New Mme. Le Vert and Other Famous
Personages Return to the Capital General Lee is Lionised
xix
CONTENTS Concluded
PAGE
I Secure the Liberty of the Fort for My Husband, and
Indulge in a Little Recreation I Visit the Studio of Vinnie
Reames and the Confederate Fair at Baltimore I Return to
Washington and Resume My Pleadings with the President
Mr. Mallory, Admiral Semmes, and Alexander Stephens
Are Released Mr. Mallory and Judge Black Counsel Me
to Take Out the Writ of Habeas Corpus The Release
Papers Are Promised I Visit the Executive Mansion to
Claim Them and at Last Receive Them "You Are
Released!" Congratulations Are Offered The Context
of Some of These "God Has Decreed That No Lie Shall
Live Forever" We Turn Our Faces Once More to the
Purple Mountains of Alabama . . , . . -367
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
MRS. CLAY, of Alabama .... Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
MRS. BENJAMIN FITZPATRICK, of Alabama . .26
ADELINA PATTI, aged sixteen . . . . .38
MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR, of Virginia ... .44
MRS. GEORGE E. PUGH (THERESE CHALFANT), of
Ohio. " The most beautiful woman in Wash-
ington
'
FRANKLIN PIERCE, President of the United States,
MRS. WILLIAM L. MARCY, of New York . . .
MRS. J. J. CRITTENDEN, of Kentucky . . .
MRS. CHESTNUT, of South Carolina . . .
JENNY LIND ........
JAMES BUCHANAN, President of the United States,
Miss HARRIET LANE, mistress of the White House,
46
60
62
84
94
102
108
.... . . 1 14
LADY NAPIER AND HER SONS . . . .116
MRS. JEFFERSON DAVIS, of Mississippi . . . 134
LORD LYONS, British Ambassador to the United
States . . . . . . . .140
CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR., United States Senator,
1853 61 ........ 148
L. Q. C. LAMAR, 1862 ...... 164
MRS. PHILIP PHILLIPS, of Washington, D. C. . .166
SENATOR JAMES H. HAMMOND, of South Carolina . 212
xxi
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Continued
FACING PACK
GENERAL JOSEPH WHEELER, of Alabama . .232
DR. HENRY C. VOGELL, Fortress Monroe, 1866 . 334
DR. GEORGE COOPER, Fortress Monroe, 1866 . . 350
MRS. A. S. PARKER, of Washington, D. C. . . 368
JEFFERSON DAVIS and CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR. (after
release from Fortress Monroe) . . . - 374
XXll
A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE
MY infant days were spent in North Carolina
among the kinsmen of my mother. I do not
remember her, save that she was young and
fair, being but twenty when she died. She was the
twenty-fifth child of the family united under her father's
roof, which remarkable circumstance may be explained
as follows:
My grandfather, General William Arlington, who won
his title in the Revolutionary War, having been left a
widower with twelve children, wearying of his solitude,
mounted his horse and rode over to visit the comely
widow Battle, whose children also numbered twelve.
The two plantations lay near together in the old 'Tar
Heel" State. My gallant ancestor was a successful
wooer, and Mrs. Battle, nee Williams, soon became Mrs.
Arlington. Thus it happened that the little Anne my
mother the one daughter of this union, entered the world
and simultaneously into the affections of one dozen half-
brothers and sisters Arlington, and as many of the
Battle blood. This was a fortunate prevision for me,
for, though orphaned at the outset of my earthly pil-
grimage I was but three years old when my girl-mother
passed away I found myself by no means alone, though
my dear father, Dr. Peyton Randolph Tunstall, grief-
stricken and sorrowful, left my native State at the death
4 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
of his wife, and I was a half -grown girl ere we met again
and learned to know each other.
My recollections of those early days are necessarily
few; yet, were I a painter, I might limn one awful figure
that lingers in my memory. She was a mulatto, to
whose care for some time I was nightly confided. This
crafty maid, Pleasant by name, though 'twas a misnomer,
anxious to join in the diversions of the other domestics
among the outlying cabins on the plantation, would no
sooner tuck me into bed than she would begin to unfold
to me bloodcurdling stories of "sperrits an' ghoses,"
and of "old blue eyes an' bloody bones' who would be
sure to come out of the plum orchard and carry me to
the graveyard if I did not go quickly to sleep. Fortu-
nately, old Major Drake, of whose family I was then a
member, chanced one evening to overhear this soothing
lullaby, and put an end to her stories ere serious harm
had been done; yet so wonderful is the retentive power
of the human mind that though seventy and more
momentous years have passed since I, a little fearsome
child, huddled under the coverings breathless in my dread
of the " bogie man," I still recall my heartless, or perhaps
my thoughtless, nurse vividly.
At the age of six I was carried to Tuscaloosa, then the
capital of the young State of Alabama, where I was
placed in the care of my aunt, whose husband, Henry
W. Collier, then a young lawyer, afterward became
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of his State, and its
Governor. That first journey stretches out in my memory
as an interminable pilgrimage. Mr. Fort, of Mississippi,
his wife, my mother's sister, and their two children,
Mary and Martha, accompanied by a large following of
Negroes, being en route for their plantation in Mississippi
territory, I was given into their care for delivery to my
kin in Tuscaloosa. No palace-car of later days has ever
eclipsed the wonders of the cavalcade our company
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 5
made as we passed along through towns and villages
and the occasional Indian settlements that here and
there dotted the untilled lands of those early nineteenth-
century days !
My uncle drove in his gig at the head of the procession,
while my aunt and the children made the journey in a
big pudding-shaped carriage in charge of a trusty driver,
beside whom my aunt's maid sat. The carriage was
built with windows at the sides, and adjustable steps,
which were let down when we halted and secured in
place by our Negro attendants. These followed behind
the vehicles and were at hand to serve us when need
arose.
Our cortege included several "Dearborns," similar in
shape to the ambulances of the present, in which the old
and ailing Negroes were carried, and numerous wagons
containing our household goods and provisions followed
behind. At night, tents were pitched, in which my aunt
and the children slept, unless by chance a storm arose,
when the shelter of some hostelry or farmhouse was
sought. The preparations for camping were altogether
exciting, the erection' of tents, the kindling of fires, the
unharnessing and watering and feeding of the stock, and
the eager industry of the cooks and their assistants in
the midst of the array of shining utensils all combining
to stamp the scene upon the mind of an impressionable
child.
However, in the course of time the slow rolling of
our carriage became monotonous to the restive children
of the caravan, and the novelty of standing at the windows
and gazing over the lifting hills soon wore off. My aunt
felt the fatigue less, we thought, for she was a famous
soliloquist, and often talked to herself as we rode, some-
times laughing aloud at her own good company. I
think we children regarded her as deranged, if harmless,
until one day she proved her sanity to our complete
6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
satisfaction. In a moment of insupportable tedium we
conceived the idea of dropping the little tin cups, with
which each was provided, in order to see if the wheels
would run over them. One after another the vessels
were lowered, and each, to our intense delight, was
smashed flat as the proverbial pancake. When my aunt
discovered our mischief, being a gentle soul, she merely
reprimanded us, and at the next settlement purchased
others; but when these and yet others followed the fate
of the first, she became less indulgent. Switches were
cut from the forest trees, three pairs of pink palms
tingled with the punishment then and there administered,
and the remembrance thereof restrained my cousins'
and my own destructiveness for the remainder of the
journey.
Arrived at Tuscaloosa, I spent four years in the shelter
of the motherly affection of my aunt, Mrs. Collier, when,
her health failing, I was placed in the home of my mother's
brother, Alfred Battle, a wealthy planter, residing a day's
journey from the little capital. My recollections of that
early Alabama life centre themselves about a great white
house set in widening grounds, in the midst of which was
a wondrous sloe-tree, white with blooms. Many times
I and my cousins played under it by moonlight, watching
the shadows of the branches as they trembled on the
white-sanded earth below, wondering at them, and not
sure whether they were fairies' or angels' or witches'
shapes. Around that tree, too, we played "Chickamy,
Chickamy, Craney Crow," and, at the climax, "What
o'clock, Old Witch ? ' ' would scamper wildly to elude the
pursuit of the imaginary old witch. Here, a healthy and
happy child, I pursued my studies. My uncle's wife, a
woman of marked domestic tastes, taught me to sew and
knit and to make a buttonhole, and I made progress in
books under the guidance of a visiting teacher ; but, my
task ended, I flew to the meadows and orchards and to
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 7
the full-flowering clover-field, or to the plantation nursery
to see the old mammies feed the babies with "clabber,"
with bread well crumbed in it, or cush, made of bread
soaked in gravy and softly mashed.
It was during this bucolic period of my life that the
stars fell. I did not witness these celestial phenomena,
being sound asleep as a child should be; but, for years
afterward, time was marked from that great event. I
remember perfectly my aunt's description of it. People
ran from their houses weeping and falling on their knees,
praying for mercy and forgiveness. Everywhere the
terrifying belief spread that the Day of Judgment was at
hand ; and nights were made vocal with the exhortations
of the black preachers who now became numerous upon
the plantation. To very recent days old Negroes have
dated their calendar from "de year when de stars fell."
Ah, me ! how long ago that time of childhood's terrors
and delights in that young open country ! Of all my
early playmates, but one, my cousin William Battle,
remains, a twin relic of antiquity ! From the first we
were cronies ; yet we had a memorable disagreement upon
one occasion which caused a slight breach between us.
We were both intensely fond of my aunt's piano, but my
cousin was compelled to satisfy his affection for music in
secret; for Uncle Battle, who heartily encouraged my
efforts, was positive in his disapproval of those of my
cousin. He thought piano-playing in a man to be little
short of a crime, and was quite resolved his son should not
be guilty of it. My cousin and I, therefore, connived to
arrange our practice in such a way as would allow him to
finish his practice at the instrument before my uncle's
return from the day's duties.
Upon the fatal occasion of our disagreement, however,
I refused, upon my cousin's appearance, to yield my
seat, whereupon, losing his temper, he gave me a tap on
the cheek. In a moment the struggle was on ! Our
8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIEvS
tussle was at its height, I on top and pummelling with all
my might, when, the door opening suddenly, a
startled cousin appeared.
' La ! ' she exclaimed in terror, " Cousin Will and
Virginia are fighting ! '
'No, we're not!' I replied stoutly. "We're just
playing ; ' ' and I retired with tufts of reddish hair in both
hands, but leaving redder spots on the face of my cousinly
antagonist. He, thoroughly satisfied to be released, no
longer desired to play the piano, nor with me. His head
has long been innocent of hair, an hereditary develop-
ment, but he has always asserted that his baldness is
attributable to : 'My cousin, Mrs. Clay, who, in our
youthful gambols, scalped me."
During my twelfth year, my uncle removed to Tusca-
loosa, where my real school days began. It was the good
fortune of the young State at that time to have in the
neighbourhood of its capital many excellent teachers,
among whom was my instructress at the school in Tusca-
loosa to which I now was sent. I cannot refrain from
telling a strange incident in her altogether remarkable
life. From the beginning it was full of unusual vicissi-
tudes. By birth an English gentlewoman, her mother
had died while she was yet an infant. In the care of a
young aunt, the child was sent to America to be brought
up by family connections residing here. On the long
sailing voyage the infant sickened and, to all appearances,
died. The ship was in midocean, and the young guardian,
blaming her own inexperience, wept bitterly as prepara-
tions went on for the burial. At last, all else being ready,
the captain himself came forward to sew the little body
in the sack, which when weighted would sink the hapless
baby into the sea. He bent over the little form, arranging
it, when by some strange fortune a bottle of whisky,
which he carried in his pocket, was spilled and the con-
tents began to flow upon the child's face. Before an
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 9
exclamation could be made the little one opened its eyes
and gave so many evidences of life that restoratives were
applied promptly. The infant recovered and grew to
womanhood. She became, when widowed, the mistress
of a school in our little capital, and her descendants, in
many instances, have risen to places of distinction in
public life.
An instructress of that period to whom the women of
early Alabama owed much was Maria Brewster Brooks,
who, as Mrs. Stafford, the wife of Professor Samuel M.
Stafford, became celebrated, and fills a page of conspicu-
ous value in the educational history of the State. She
was born on the banks of the Merrimac and came to
Tuscaloosa in her freshest womanhood. First her pupil,
and afterward her friend, our mutual affection, begun
in the early thirties, continued until her demise in
the eighties. Many of her wards became in after years
notable figures in the social life of the national capital,
among them Mrs. Hilary Herbert.
In Tuscaloosa there resided, besides my Aunt Collier,
few of my father's and mother's kin, and by a
natural affinity I fell under the guardianship of my
father's brother, Thomas B. Tunstall, Secretary of State
of Alabama. He was a bachelor ; but all that I lacked
in my separation from my father my uncle supplied,
feeding the finer sides of my nature, and inspiring in me
a love of things literary even at an age when I had
scarce handled a book. My uncle's influence began with
my earliest days in Alabama. My aunt, Mrs. Collier,
was delicate, Mrs. Battle domestic ; Uncle Battle was a
famous business man; and Uncle Collier was immersed
in law and increasing political interests ; but my memory
crowds with pictures of my Uncle Tom, walking slowly
up and down, playing his violin, and interspersing his
numbers with some wise counsel to the child beside him.
He taught me orally of poetry, and music, of letters
io A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
and philosophy, and of the great world's great interests.
He early instilled in me a pride of family, while reading
to me Scott's fine tribute to Brian Tunstall, 'the stain-
less knight," or, as he rehearsed stories of Sir Cuthbert
Tunstall, Knight of the Garter, and Bishop of London
in the time of gentle Queen Anne; and it was in good
uncle Tom's and my father's company that the fascina-
tions of the drama were first revealed to me.
While I was yet a school-girl, and so green that, had I
not been protected by these two loving guardians, I would
have been eaten up by the cows on the Mobile meadows, I
was taken to see " The Gamester," in which Charles Kean
and Ellen Tree were playing. It was a remarkable and
ever-remembered experience. As the play proceeded, I
became so absorbed in the story, so real and so thrillingly
portrayed, that from silent weeping I took to sniffling and
from sniffling to ill-repressed sobbing. I leaned forward
in my seat tensely, keeping my eyes upon the stage, and
equally oblivious of my father and uncle and the strangers
who were gazing at me on every side. Now and then, as
I sopped the briny outflow of my grief, realising in some
mechanical manner that my handkerchief was wet, I
would take it by two corners and wave it back and forth
in an effort to dry it; but all the while the tears gushed
from my eyes in rivulets. My guardians saw little of
the play that night, for the amusement I afforded these
experienced theatre-goers altogether exceeded in interest
the mimic tragedy that so enthralled me.
When the curtain fell upon the death-scene I was
exhausted; but another and counteracting experience
awaited me, for the after-piece was 'Robert Macaire,"
and now, heartily as I had wept before, I became con-
vulsed with laughter as I saw the deft pickpocket
(impersonated by Crisp, the comedian) , courtly as a king,
bowing in the dance, while removing from the unsuspect-
ing ladies and gentlemen about him their brooches and
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE n
jewels ! My absorption in the performance was so great
that I scarce heard the admonitions of my father and
uncle, who begged me, in whispers, to control myself.
Nor did I realise there was another person in the house
but the performers on the stage and myself.
Years afterward, while travelling with my husband,
he recognised in a fellow traveller a former friend from
southern Alabama, a Mr. Montague, and brought him to
me to present him. To my chagrin, he had scarcely
taken my hand when he burst into immoderate and in-
explicable laughter.
'Never," said he to Mr. Clay, " shall I forget the time
when I first saw your wife ! We went to see Tree ; but,
sir, not half the house knew what was going on on the
stage for watching the little girl in the auditorium !
Never till then had I imagined the full power of the
drama ! Her delight, her tears and laughter, I am sure,
were remembered by the Mobilians long after the ' stars '
acting was forgotten. "
That visit to Mobile was my first flight into the beautiful
world that lay beyond the horizon of my school life. In
the enjoyments devised for me by my father in those few
charmed days, I saw, if not clearly, at least prophetically,
what of beauty and joy life might hold for me. Upon
our arrival in the lovely little Bay city, my father, learning
of a ball for which preparations were on foot, determined
I should attend it. Guided perhaps in his choice
of colour by the tints of health that lay in his little
daughter's cheeks, he selected for me a gown of peach-
blossom silk, which all my life I have remembered as the
most beautiful of dresses, and one which transformed me,
heretofore confined to brown holland gowns by my
prudent aunt, Mrs. Battle, as truly as Cinderella was
changed into a princess.
Upon the evening of that never-to-be-forgotten Boat
Club Ball, blushing and happy, eager, with delightful
12 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
anticipations, yet timorous, too, for my guardians, the
Battles, had disapproved of dancing and had rigorously
excluded this and other worldly pleasures from their
ward's accomplishments, I was conducted by my father
to the ball. In my heart lay the fear that I would be,
after all, a mere looker-on, or appear awkward if I should
venture to dance as did the others; but neither of these
misgivings proved to have been well founded.
My father led me at once to Mme. Le Vert, then the
reigning queen of every gathering at which she appeared,
and in her safe hands every fear vanished. I had heard
my elders speak frequently of her beauty, and somehow
had imagined her tall. She was less so than I had
pictured, but so winning and cordial to me, a timid child,
that I at once capitulated before the charm she cast over
everyone who came into conversation with her. I
thought her face the sweetest I had ever seen. She had
a grace and frankness which made everyone with whom
she talked feel that he or she alone commanded her
attention. I do not recall her making a single bon mot,
but she was vivacious and smiling. Her charm, it
seemed to me, lay in her lovely manners and person and
her permeating intellectuality.
I remember Mme. Le Vert's appearance on that occasion
distinctly, though to describe it now seems garish. To
see her then was bewildering, and all her colour was
harmony. She wore a gown of golden satin, and on her
hair a wreath of coral flowers, which her morocco shoes
matched in hue. In the dance she moved like a bird on
the wing. I can see her now in her shining robe, as she
swayed and glided, holding the shimmering gown aside
as she floated through the "ladies' chain.' 1 The first
dance of my life was a quadrille, viz-a-vis with this
renowned beauty, who took me under her protection and
encouraged me from time to time.
"Don't be afraid, my dear," she would sweetly say.
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 13
"Do just as I do," and I glided after my wonderful in-
structress like one enchanted, with never a mishap.
Mme". Le Vert, who in years to come became internation-
ally celebrated, was a kinswoman of Clement Claiborne
Clay, and in after times, when I became his wife, I often
met her, but throughout my long life I have remembered
that first meeting in Mobile, and her charm and grace
have remained a prized picture in my memory. It was
of this exquisite belle that Washington Irving remarked :
' But one such woman is born in the course of an
empire. "
It was to my Uncle Tom that I owed the one love sorrow
of my life. It was an affair of the greatest intensity
while it endured, and was attended by the utmost
anguish for some twelve or fourteen hours. During
that space of time I endured all the hopes and fears, the
yearnings and despairs to which the human heart is victim.
I was nearing the age of fifteen when my uncle one
evening bade me put on my prettiest frock and accom-
pany him to the home of a friend, where a dance was to
be given. I was dressed with all the alacrity my old
mammy was capable of summoning, and was soon
ensconced in the carriage and on my way to the hospi-
table scene. En route we stopped at the hotel, where my
uncle alighted, reappearing in a moment with a very hand-
some young man, who entered the carriage with him and
drove with us to the house, where he, too, was to be a guest.
Never had my eyes beheld so pleasing a masculine
wonder! He was the personification of manly beauty!
His head was shapely as Tasso's (in after life I often heard
the comparison made), and in his eyes there burned a
romantic fire that enslaved me from the moment their
gaze rested upon me. At their warmth all the ardour,
all the ideals upon which a romantic heart had fed rose
in recognition of their realisation in him. During the
evening he paid me some pretty compliments, remarking
i 4 h'-' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
upon my hazel eyes and the gleam of gold in my hair,
and he touched my curls admiringly, as if they were
revered by him.
My head swam ! Lohengrin never dazzled Elsa more
completely than did this knight of the poet's head charm
the maiden that was I ! We danced together frequently
throughout the evening, and my hero rendered me
every attention a kind man may offer to the little
daughter of a valued friend. When at last we stepped
into the carriage and turned homeward, the whole world
was changed for me.
My first apprehension of approaching sorrow came as we
neared the hotel. To my surprise, the knight was willing,
nay, desired to be set down there. A dark suspicion crept
into my mind that perhaps, after all, my hero might be
less gallant than I had supposed, else why did he not
seek this opportunity of riding home with me? If this
wonderful emotion that possessed me also had actuated
him and how could I doubt it after his devotion through-
out the evening? how could he bear to part from me
in this way without a single word or look of tenderness?
As the door closed behind him I leaned back in the
darkest corner of the carriage and thought hard, though
not hardly of him. After a little my uncle roused me by
saying, 'Did my little daughter enjoy this evening?'
I responded enthusiastically.
" And was I not kind to provide you with such a gallant
cavalier ? Isn't Colonel Jere Clemens a handsome man ? '
Ah, was he not? My full heart sang out his praises
with an unmistakable note. My uncle listened sym-
pathetically. Then he continued, "Yes, he's a fine
fellow ! A fine fellow, Virginia, and he has a nice little
wife and baby!'
No thunderbolt ever fell more crushingly upon the
unsuspecting than did these awful words from the lips
of my uncle ! I know not how I reached my room, but
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 15
once there I wept passionately throughout the night and
much of the following morning. Within my own heart
I accused my erstwhile hero of the rankest perfidy; of
villainy of every imaginable quality; and in this recoil
of injured pride perished my first love dream, vanished
the heroic wrappings of my quondam knight !
Having finished the curriculum of the institute presided
over by Miss Brooks, I was sent to the " Female Academy "
at Nashville, Tennessee, to perfect my studies in music
and literature, whence I returned to Tuscaloosa all but
betrothed to Alexander Keith McClung, already a famous
duellist. I met him during a visit to my Uncle Fort's
home, in Columbus, Mississippi, and the Colonel's devo-
tion to me for many months was the talk of two States. He
was the gallantest lover that ever knelt at a lady's feet !
Many a winsome girl admired him, and my sweet cousin,
Martha Fort, was wont to say she would ;< rather marry
Colonel McClung than any man alive"; but I I loved
him madly while with him, but feared him when away
from him; for he was a man of fitful, uncertain moods
and given to periods of the deepest melancholy. At such
times he would mount his horse 'Rob Roy," wild and
untamable as himself, and dash to the cemetery, where
he would throw himself down on a convenient grave and
stare like a madman into the sky for hours. A man of
reckless bravery, in after years he was the first to mount
the ramparts of Monterey shouting victory. As he ran,
carrying his country's flag in his right hand, a shot
whizzing by took off two fingers of his left.
I was thrown much in the company of Colonel McClung
while at my uncle's home, but resisted his pleading for
a binding engagement, telling him with a strange courage
and frankness, ere I left Columbus, my reason for this
persistent indecision. Before leaving for the academy
at Nashville, I had met, at my Uncle Collier's, in Tusca-
loosa, the young legislator, Clement C. Clay, Jr., and had
1 6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
then had a premonition that if we should meet when I
returned from school I would marry him. At that time
I was an unformed girl, and he, Mr. Clay, was devoted
to a young lady of the capital; but this, as I knew, was a
matter of the past. I would surely meet him again at
Uncle Collier's (I told Mr. McClung) , and, if the attraction
continued, I felt sure I would marry him. If not, I
would marry him, Colonel McClung. So we parted, and,
though at that time the Colonel did not doubt but that
mine was a dreaming girl's talk, my premonitions were
promptly realised.
Upon my return to our provincial little capital, then
a community of six thousand souls, I found it thronging
with gallants from every county in the State. The belles
of the town, in preparation for the gayety of the legislative
"season' of two months, were resplendent in fresh and
fashionable toilettes. Escritoires were stocked with
stationery suitable for the billet-doux that were sure to be
required; and there, too, were the little boxes of glazed
mottoed wafers, then all the fashion, with which to seal
the pretty missives. All the swains of that day wrote
in verse to the ladies they admired, and each tender
rhyme required a suitably presented acknowledgment. I
remember, though I have preserved none save those my
husband wrote me, several creditable effusions by Colonel
McClung, one of which began :
'Fearful and green your breathless poet stands," etc.
Shortly after my return from Columbus, I attended a
ball where I danced with William L. Yancey, even then
recognised for the splendour of his intellectual powers
and his eloquence in the forum. I had heard him speak,
and thought his address superb, and I told him so.
"Ah," he answered gayly, "if it had not been for one
pair of hazel eyes I should have been submerged in a
mere sea of rhetoric ! '
On the night of my dance with him I wore a white
CHILDHOOD, GIRLHOOD, MARRIAGE 17
feather in my hair, and on the morrow a messenger
from Mr. Yancey bore me some charming verses, ad-
dressed <; To the lady with the snow-white plume !"
I have said my strange premonitions regarding Mr.
Clay were realised. Ten days after we met we were
affianced. There was a hastily gathered trousseau
selected in part by Mme. LeVert in Mobile, and hurried
on to my aunt's home. A month later, and our mar-
riage was celebrated with all the eclat our little city
could provide, and the congratulations of a circle of
friends that included half the inhabitants. It is sixty
years since that wonderful wedding day, and of the
maidens who attended me there were six and the
happy company that thronged Judge Collier's home on
that crisp February morning when I crossed the Rubicon
of life, all even the bridegroom have passed long since
into the shadowy company of memory and the dead.
That marriage feast in the morn of my life was beautiful ;
the low, spacious house of primitive architecture was
white with hyacinths, and foliage decorated every avail-
able space. The legislature came in a body, solons of
the State, and young aspirants for fame; the president
and faculty of the State University, of which Mr. Clay
was a favoured son; Dr. Capers, afterward Bishop of
South Carolina, officiated, and, in that glorious company
of old Alabamians, my identity as Virginia Tunstall was
merged forever with that of the rising young statesman,
Clement C. Clay, Jr.
A week of festivity followed the ceremony, and then my
husband took me to my future home, among his people,
in the northern part of the State. There being no rail-
road connection between Tuscaloosa and Huntsville in
those days (the early forties), we made the journey from
the capital in a big four-wheeled stage-coach. The
stretch of country now comprised in the active city of
Birmingham, the southern Pittsburg, was then a rugged
1 8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
place of rocks and boulders over which our vehicle
pitched perilously. Stone Mountain reached, we were
obliged to descend and pick our way on foot, the roughness
of the road making the passage of the coach a very
dangerous one. But these difficulties only lent a charm
to us, for the whole world was enwrapped in the
glamour of our youthful joys, The sunsets, blazing
crimson on the horizon, seemed gloriously to proclaim the
sunrise of our life.
We arrived in Huntsville on the evening of the second
day of our journey. Our driver, enthusiastically proud of
his part in the home -bringing of the bride, touched up
the spirited horses as we crossed the Public Square and
blew a bugle blast as we wheeled round the corner;
when, fairly dashing down Clinton Street, he pulled up
in masterly style in front of 'Clay Castle. " It was
wide and low and spacious, as were all the affluent homes
of that day, and now was ablaze with candles to welcome
the travellers. All along the streets friendly hands and
kerchiefs had waved a welcome to us. Here, within,
awaited a great gathering of family and friends eager to
see the chosen bride of a well-loved son. This was my
home-coming to Huntsville, thereafter to be my haven
for all time, though called in a few years by my husband's
growing reputation to take my place beside him in
Congressional circles at Washington.
CHAPTER II
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES
WHEN my husband's parents were members of the
Congressional circle in Washington 182 9-' 3 5 the jour-
ney to the capital from their home in northern Alabama
was no light undertaking. In those early days Congress-
man (afterward Governor, and United States Senator)
and Mrs. C. 0. Clay, Sr., travelled by coach to the Federal
City, accompanied by their coloured coachman, Toney
(who, because of his expert driving, soon became notable
in Washington), and a maid -servant, Milly, who were
necessary to their comfort and station. Many days were
consumed in these journeys, that lay through Tennessee,
the Carolinas and Virginia, during which the travellers
were exposed to all the dangers common to a young and
often unsettled forest country. The tangled woods of the
South land, odorous with the cedar or blossoming with
dogwood, mimosa or magnolias, were often Arcadias of
beauty. The land of the sky, now the object of pilgrim-
ages for the wealthy and become the site of palaces built
by kings of commerce, was then still more beautiful
with primeval freshness. Far as the eye could see, as
hills were scaled and valleys crossed, were verdured slopes
and wooded mountain crests. The Palisades of the
Tennessee, as yet scarcely penetrated by Northern tour-
ists, were then the wonder as they still are the pride of the
traveller from the South.
In 1853, my husband was elected a United States
Senator, to take the seat of a former college friend, Jere
Clemens, whose term had just expired, and succeeding
20 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
his father C. C. Clay, ST., after eleven years. In Decem-
ber of the same year, we began our trip to the capital
under comparatively modern conditions. My several
visits to Vermont and New Jersey Hydropathic Cures,
then the fashionable sanitariums, had already inured
me to long journeys. By this time steam railways had
been established, and, though not so systematically con-
nected as to make possible the taking of- long trips over
great distances without devious and tiresome changes,
they had lessened the time spent upon the road between
Alabama and Washington very appreciably; but,
while in comparison with those in common use to-day,
the cars were primitive, nevertheless they were marvels
of comfort and speed to the travellers of the fifties. Sleep-
ing cars were not yet invented, but the double-action seat-
backs of the regular coaches, not then, as now, screwed
down inexorably, made it a simple matter to convert two
seats into a kind of couch, on which, with the aid of a
pillow, one managed very well to secure a half repose as
the cars moved soberly along.
Our train on that first official journey to Washington
proved to be a kind of inchoative "Congressional Lim-
ited." We found many of our fellow passengers to be
native Alabamians, the majority being on government
business bent. Among them were my husband's confrere
from southern Alabama, Senator Fitzpatrick and his wife,
and a friendship was then and there begun among us,
which lasted uninterruptedly until death detached some
of the parties to it; also Congressman Dowdell, "dear
old Dowdell," as my husband and everyone in the House
shortly learned to call him, and James L. Orr of South
Carolina, who afterward became Speaker of the House
of Representatives, and Minister to Russia under Presi-
dent Grant. Mr. Orr, late in 1860, was one of the three
commissioners sent by South Carolina to President
Buchanan to arbitrate on the question of the withdrawal
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 2 1
of United States troops from Forts Sumter and Moultrie,
in Charleston Harbour.
Nor should I omit to name the most conspicuous man
on that memorable north-bound train, Congressman
W. R. W. Cobb, who called himself the "maker of Sena-
tors," and whom people called the most successful vote-
poller in the State of Alabama. Mr. Cobb resorted to all
sorts of tricks to catch the popular votes, such as the
rattling of tinware and crockery he had introduced
bills to secure indigent whites from a seizure for debt that
would engulf all their possessions, and in them had
minutely defined all articles that were to be thus exempt,
not scorning to enumerate the smallest items of the
kitchen , and he delighted in the singing of homely songs
composed for stump purposes. One of these which he was
wont to introduce at the end of a speech, and which
always seemed to be especially his own, was called "The
Homestead Bill." Of this remarkable composition there
were a score of verses, at least, that covered every
possible possession which the heart of the poor man
might crave, ranging from land and mules to household
furniture. The song began,
' Uncle Sam is rich enough to give us all a farm ! '
and Mr. Cobb would sing it in stentorian tones, winking,
as he did so, to first one and then another of his admiring
listeners, and punctuating his phrases by chewing, with
great gusto, a piece of onion and the coarsest of corn
'pone." These evidences of his democracy gave huge
delight to the masses, though it aroused in me, a young
wife, great indignation, that, in the exigencies of a public
career my husband should be compelled to enter a con-
test with such a man. To me it was the meeting of a
Damascus blade and a meat-axe, and in my soul I
resented it.
In 1849 this stump-favourite had defeated the brilliant
Jere Clemens, then a candidate for Congress, but im-
22 ; A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
mediately thereafter Mr. Clemens was named for the
higher office of U. S. Senator and elected. In 1853 an
exactly similar conjunction of circumstances resulted in
the election of Mr. Clay. I accompanied my husband
during the canvass in which he was defeated, and thereby
became, though altogether innocently, the one obstacle
to Mr. Cobb's usually unanimous election.
It happened that during the campaign Mr. Clay and
I stopped at a little hostelry, that lay in the very centre
of one of Mr. Cobb's strongest counties. It was little
more than a flower-embowered cottage, kept by "Aunt
Hannah," a kindly soul, whose greatest treasure was a
fresh-faced, pretty daughter, then entering her 'teens."
I returned to our room after a short absence, just in time
to see this village beauty before my mirror, arrayed in
all the glory of a beautiful and picturesque hat which
I had left upon the bed during my absence. It was a
lovely thing of the period, which I had but recently
brought back from the North, having purchased it while
en route for Doctor Wesselhceft's Hydropathic Institute
in Brattleboro, Vermont.
The little rustic girl of Alabama looked very winsome
and blossomy in the pretty gew-gaw, and I asked her
impulsively if she liked it. Her confusion was sufficient
answer, and I promptly presented it to her, on con-
dition that she would give me her sunbonnet in
return.
The exchange was quickly made, and when Mr. Clay
and I departed I wore a pea-green cambric bonnet,
lined with pink and stiffened with pasteboard slats. I
little dreamed that this exchange of millinery, so unpre-
meditated, and certainly uncalculating, was a political
master-stroke; but, so it proved. It undermined Mr.
Cobb's Gibraltar; for at the election that followed, the
vote in that county was practically solid for Mr. Clay,
where formerly Mr. Cobb had swept it clean.
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 23
When, upon the train en route for the capital in the
winter of '53, Senator Fitzpatrick insisted upon presenting
the erstwhile triumphant politician, I took the long,
flail-like hand he offered me with no accentuated cor-
diality; my reserve, however, seemed not to disturb Mr.
Cobb's proverbial complacency.
'I've got a crow to pick with you, Mrs. Clay," he
began, " for that pink bonnet trick at old Aunt Hannah's ! '
; ' And I have a buzzard to pick with you ! " I responded
promptly, 'for defeating my husband!'
'You ought to feel obliged to me," retorted the Con-
gressman, continuing ' For I made your husband a
Senator!'
'Well," I rejoined, Til promise not to repeat the
bonnet business, if you'll give me your word never again
to sing against my husband ! That's unfair, for you know
he can't sing!" which, amid the laughter of our fellow-
passengers, Mr. Cobb promised.
Our entrance into the Federal City was not without
its humorous side. We arrived in the early morning,
about two o'clock, driving up to the National Hotel,
where, owing to a mistake on the part of the night-
clerk, an incident occurred with which for many a day
I twitted my husband and our male companions on
that eventful occasion.
At that period it was the almost universal custom for
Southern gentlemen to wear soft felt hats, and the fashion
was invariable when travelling. In winter, too, long-
distance voyagers as commonly wrapped themselves in
the blanket shawl, which was thrown around the shoulders
in picturesque fashion and was certainly comfortable, if
not strictly a la mode. My husband and the other gentle-
men of our party were so provided on our journey north-
ward, and upon our arrival, it must be admitted, none
in that travel-stained and weary company would have
been mistaken for a Washington exquisite of the period.
24 ' A BELLE OP THE FIFTIES
As our carriage stopped in front of the hotel door, Mr.
Dowdell, muffled to the ears, his soft-brimmed hat well
down over his face (for the wind was keen), stepped out
quickly to arrange for our accommodation. The night
was bitterly cold, and the others of our company were
glad to remain under cover until our spokesman returned.
This he did in a moment or two. He appeared crest-
fallen, and quite at a loss.
" Nothing here, Clay ! " he said to my husband. " Man
says they have no rooms !' :
'Nonsense, Dowdell!' was Senator Clay's response.
"You must be mistaken. Here, step inside while I
inquire!' He, muffled as mysteriously, and in no whit
more trust-inspiring than the dejected Mr. Dowdell, strode
confidently in. Not many minutes elapsed ere he, too,
returned.
" Well ! " he said. " I don't understand it, but Dowdell's
right ! They say they have no rooms for us 1 '
At this we were dismayed, and a chorus of exclama-
tions went up from men and women alike. What were
we to do? In a moment, I had resolved.
' There's some mistake ! I don't believe it," I said. " I'll
go and see;" and, notwithstanding my husband's remon-
strances, I hurried out of the carriage and into the hotel.
Stepping to the desk I said to the clerk in charge: " Is it
possible you have no rooms for our party in this large
hostelry? Is it possible, Sir, that at this season, when
Congress is convening, you have reserved no rooms for
Congressional guests?' He stammered out some con-
fused reply, but I hurried on.
' I am Mrs. Clay, of Alabama. You have refused my
husband, Senator Clay, and his friend, Representative
Dowdell. What does it mean?'
'Why, certainly, Madam," he hastened to say, u I have
rooms for those." And forthwith ordered the porters to
go for our luggage. Then, reaching hurriedly for various
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 25
keys, he added, ' I beg your pardon, Madam ! I did not
know you were those!'
What he did believe us to be, piloted as we were by
two such brigand-like gentlemen as Senator Clay and
Mr. Dowdell, we never knew; enough that our tired
party were soon installed in comfortable apartments.
It was by reason of this significant episode that I first
realized the potency in Washington of conventional
apparel and Congressional titles.
My husband being duly sworn in on the i4th of Decem-
ber, 1853, in a few days our 'mess' : was established at
the home of Mr. Charles Gardner, at Thirteenth and G
Streets. Here my first season in Washington was spent.
Besides Senator Clay and myself, our party was com-
posed of Senator and Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and Representa-
tives Dowdell and Orr, and to this little nucleus of con-
genial spirits were afterward added in our later resi-
dences at historic old Brown's Hotel and the Ebbitt
House, many whose names are known to the nation.
Though a sad winter for me, for in it I bore and buried
my only child, yet my recollections of that season, as its
echoes reached our quiet parlours, are those of boundless
entertainment and bewildering ceremony. The season
was made notable in the fashionable world by the great
fete champetre given by the British Minister, Mr. Cramp-
ton, and the pompous obsequies of Baron Bodisco, for
many years resident Minister from Russia; but of these
I learned only through my ever kind friend, Mrs. Fitz-
patrick, who for months was my one medium of com-
munication with the fashionable outside world. She was
a beautiful woman, with superb carriage and rare and
rich colouring, and possessed, besides, a voice of great
sweetness, with which, during that winter of seclusion, she
often made our simple evenings a delight. While shortly
she became a leader in matters social, Mrs. Fitzpatrick
was still more exalted in our own little circle for her
26 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
singing of such charming songs as 'Roy's Wife of
Aldivalloch," and other quaint Scotch ditties. Nor was
Mrs. Fitzpatrick the one musician of our "mess," for
Mr. Dowdell had a goodly voice and sang with lusty
enjoyment the simpler ballads of the day, to say nothing
of many melodious Methodist hymns.
My experiences as an active member of Washington
society, therefore, began in the autumn of 1854 and
the succeeding spring, when, notwithstanding an air
of gravity and reserve that was perceptible at that
social pivot, the White House, the gaiety of the capital
was gaining an impetus in what later appeared to me to
be a veritable "merry madness."
It is true that it did not even then require the insight
of a keen observer to detect in social, as in political
gatherings, the constantly widening division between the
Northern and Southern elements gathered in the Govern-
ment City. For myself, I knew little of politics, not-
withstanding the fact that from ray childhood I had
called myself "a pronounced Jeffersonian Democrat."
Naturally, I was an hereditary believer in States' Rights,
the real question, which, in an attempt to settle it, cul-
minated in our Civil War ; and I had been bred among the
law-makers of the sturdy young State of Alabama, many
of whom had served at the State and National capitals
with marked distinction; but from my earliest girlhood
three lessons had been taught me religiously, viz. : to be
proud alike of my name and blood and section; to read
my Bible; and, last, to know my "Richmond Enquirer."
Often, as an aid to the performance of this last duty, have
I read aloud its full contents, from the rates of adver-
tisement down, until my dear uncle Tom Tunstall has
fallen asleep over my childish efforts. It is not, then,
remarkable that, upon my arrival, I was at once cog-
nisant of the feeling which was so thinly concealed
between the strenuous parties established in the capital.
MRS. BENJAMIN FITZPATRICK
of Alabama
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 27
During the first half of the Pierce administration, how-
ever, though feeling ran high in the Senate and the
House, the surface of social life was smiling and peaceful.
The President had every reason to feel kindly toward
the people of the South who had so unanimously sup-
ported him, and he was as indiscriminating and impartial
in his attitude to the opposing parties as even the most
critical could desire; but, gradually, by a mutual instinct
of repulsion that resolved itself into a general consent, the
representatives of the two antagonistic sections seldom
met save at promiscuous assemblages to which the
exigencies of public life compelled them. To be sure,
courtesies were exchanged between the wives of some
of the Northern and Southern Senators, and formal calls
were paid on Cabinet days, as etiquette demanded, upon
the ladies of the Cabinet circle ; but, by a tacit understand-
ing, even at the entertainments given at the foreign
legations, and at the houses of famous Washington citi-
zens, this opposition of parties was carefully considered
in the sending out of invitations, in order that no unfortu-
nate rencontre might occur between uncongenial guests.
The White House, as I have said, was scarcely a place
of gaiety. Mrs. Pierce's first appearance in public
occurred at the Presidential levee, late in 1853. An
invalid for several years, she had recently received a
shock, which was still a subject of pitying conversation
throughout the country. It had left a terrible impress
upon Mrs. Pierce's spirits. While travelling from her home
in New Hampshire to Washington to witness her hus-
band's exaltation as the President of the United States,
an accident, occurring at Norwalk, Connecticut, suddenly
deprived her of her little son, the last surviving of her
several children. At her first public appearance at the
White House, clad in black velvet and diamonds, her
natural pallor being thereby greatly accentuated, a
universal sympathy was awakened for her. To us who
28 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
knew her, the stricken heart was none the less apparent
because hidden under such brave and jewelled apparel,
which she had donned, the better to go through the
ordeal exacted by 'the dear people."
I had made the acquaintance of General and Mrs.
Pierce during the preceding year while on a visit to the
New England States; my husband's father had been the
President's confrere in the Senate early in the forties;
and my brother-in-law, Colonel Hugh Lawson Clay, had
fought beside the New Hampshire General in the Mexican
War. The occupants of the Executive Mansion there-
fore were no strangers to us; yet Mrs. Pierce's sweet
graciousness and adaptability came freshly to me as I saw
her assume her place as the social head of the nation.
Her sympathetic nature and very kind heart, qualities
not always to be perceived through the formalities of
governmental etiquette, were demonstrated to me on
many occasions. My own ill-health proved to be a bond
between us, and, while custom forbade the paying of
calls by the wife of the Chief Magistrate upon the wives of
Senators, I was indebted to Mrs. Pierce for many acts
of friendliness, not the least of which were occasional
drives with her in the Presidential equipage.
A favourite drive in those days was throughout the
length of Pennsylvania Avenue, then but sparsely and
irregularly built up. The greatest contrasts in archi-
tecture existed, hovels often all but touching the man-
sions of the rich. The great boulevard was a perfect
romping ground for the winds. Chevy Chase and George-
town were popular objective points, and the banks of the
Potomac, in shad-seining season, were alive with gay
sightseers. The markets of Washington have always
excelled, affording every luxury of earth and sea, and that
at a price which gives to the owner of even a moderate
purse a leaning toward epicureanism. In the houses
of the rich the serving of dinners became a fine art.
,
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 29
On the first occasion of my dining at the President's
table, I was struck with the spaciousness of the White
House, and the air of simplicity which everywhere
pervaded. Very elaborate alterations were made in the
mansion for Mr. Pierce's successor, but in the day of
President and Mrs. Pierce it remained practically as un-
imposing as in the time of President Monroe.
The most remarkable features in all the mansion, to
my then unaccustomed eyes, were the gold spoons which
were used invariably at all State dinners. They were
said to have been brought from Paris by President
Monroe, who had been roundly criticised for introducing
into the White House a table accessory so undemocratic !
Besides these extraordinary golden implements, there
were as remarkable bouquets, made at the government
greenhouses. They were stiff and formal things, as big
round as a breakfast plate, and invariably composed of a
half-dozen wired japonicas ornamented with a pretentious
cape of marvellously wrought lace-paper. At every
plate, at every State dinner, lay one of these memorable
rigid bouquets. This fashion, originating at the White
House, was taken up by all Washington. For an entire
season the japonica was the only flower seen at the houses
of the fashionable or mixing in the toilettes of the
belles.
But if, for that, my first winter in Washington, the
White House itself was sober, the houses of the rich
Senators and citizens of Washington, of the brilliant
diplomatic corps, and of some of the Cabinet Ministers,
made ample amends for it. In the fifties American
hospitality acquired a reputation, and that of the capital
was synonymous with an unceasing, an augmenting round
of dinners and dances, receptions and balls. A hundred
hostesses renowned for their beauty and wit and vivacity
vied with each other in evolving novel social relaxations.
Notable among these were Mrs. Slidell, Mrs. Jacob
3 o : n A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Thompson, Miss Belle Cass, and the daughters of Secretary
Guthrie; Mrs. Senator Toombs and Mrs. Ogle Tayloe,
the Riggses, the Countess de Sartiges and Mrs. Cobb,
wife of that jolly Falstaff of President Buchanan's
Cabinet, Howell Cobb. Mrs. Cobb was of the celebrated
Lamar family, so famous for its brilliant and brave men,
and lovely women. Highly cultured, modest as a wild
wood-violet, inclined, moreover, to reserve, she was
nevertheless capable of engrossing the attention of the
most cultivated minds in the capital, and a conversation
with her was ever a thing to be remembered. No more
hospitable home was known in Washington than that of
the Cobbs. The Secretary was a bon vtvant, and his
home the rendezvous of the epicurean as well as the
witty and the intellectual.
Probably the most brilliant of all the embassies, until
the coming of Lord and Lady Napier, was that of France.
The Countess de Sartiges, who presided over it, was an
unsurpassed hostess, besides being a woman of much
manner and personal beauty; and, as did many others of
the suite, she entertained on a lavish scale.
Mrs. Slidell, wife of the Senator from Louisiana, whose
daughter Mathilde is now the wife of the Parisian banker,
Baron Erlanger, became famous in the fifties for her
matinee dances at which all the beauties and beaux of
Washington thronged. Previous to her marriage with
Senator Slidell she was Mile, des Londes of New Orleans.
A leader in all things fashionable, she was also one of the
most devout worshippers at St. Aloysius's church. I
remember with what astonishment and admiration I
watched her devotions one Sunday morning when, as
the guest of Senator Mallory, himself a strict Romanist,
I attended that church for the purpose of hearing a mass
sung.
I knew Mrs. Slidell as the devotee of fashion, the wearer
of unapproachable Parisian gowns, the giver of unsur-
\.
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 31
passed entertainments, the smiling, tireless hostess; but
that Sunday morning as I saw her enter a pew just ahead
of Senator Mallory and myself, sink upon her knees, and,
with her eyes fixed upon the cross, repeating her prayers
with a concentration that proved the sincerity of them,
I felt as if another and greater side of her nature were
being revealed to me. I never met her thereafter without
a remembrance of that morning flitting through my mind.
During the early spring of 1854 I heard much of the
imposing ceremonials attending the funeral of Baron
Alexandre de Bodisco, Minister from Russia since 1838,
the days of Van Buren. His young wife, a native of
Georgetown, was one of the first to draw the attention of
foreigners to the beauty of American women. The
romantic old diplomat had learned to admire his
future wife when, as a little girl, upon her daily return
from school, he carried her books for her. Her beauty
developed with her growth, and, before she was really
of an age to appear in society, though already spoken of
as the most beautiful woman in Georgetown, Harriet
Williams became the Baroness de Bodisco, and was car-
ried abroad for presentation at the Russian Court.
Her appearance in that critical circle created a furore,
echoes of which preceded her return to America. I have
heard it said that this young bride was the first woman
to whom was given the title, 'the American Rose.' 3
I remember an amusing incident in which this lovely
Baroness, unconsciously to herself, played the part of
instructress to me. It was at one of my earliest dinners
at the White House, ere I had thoroughly familiarised
myself with the gastronomic novelties devised by the
Gautiers (then the leading restaurateurs and confectioners
of the capital) , and the other foreign chefs who vied with
them. Scarcely a dinner of consequence but saw some
surprise in the way of a heretofore unknown dish. Many
a time I have seen some one distinguished for his aplomb
32 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
look about helplessly as the feast progressed, and gaze
questioningly at the preparation before him, as if un-
certain as to how it should be manipulated. Whenever
I was in doubt as to the proper thing to do at these dig-
nified dinners, I turned, as was natural, to those whose
longer experience in the gay world was calculated to
establish them as exemplars to the novice.
On the evening of which I write, the courses had pro-
ceeded without the appearance of unusual or alarm-
inspiring dishes until we had neared the end of the menu,
when I saw a waiter approaching with a large salver on
which were dozens of mysterious parallelograms of paper,
each of which was about five inches long and three broad,
and appeared to be full of some novel conserve.
Beside them lay a silver trowel. The packages were folded
daintily, the gilt edges of their wrapping glittering at-
tractively. What they contained I could not guess, nor
could I imagine what we were supposed to do with them.
However, while still struggling to read the mystery
of the salver, my eye fell upon Mme. de Bodisco, my
vis-a-vis. She was a mountain of lace and jewels, of
blonde beauty and composure, for even at this early period
her proportions were larger than those which by common
consent are accredited to the sylph. I could have no
better instructress than this lady of international renown.
I watched her; saw her take up the little trowel,
deftly remove one of the packages from the salver to her
plate, and composedly proceed to empty the paper
receptacle of its contents a delicious glace. My sus-
pense was at an end. I followed her example, very well
satisfied with my good fortune in escaping a pitfall which
a moment ago I felt sure yawned before me, for this
method of serving creams and ices was the latest
of culinary novelties.
I wondered if there were others at the great board who
were equally uncertain as to what to do with the care*
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 33
fully concealed dainties. Looking down to the other
side of the table, I saw our friend Mr. Blank, of Virginia,
hesitatingly regarding the pile of paper which the waiter
was holding toward him. Presently, as if resigned to
his fate, he took up the trowel and began to devote
considerable energy to an attempt to dig out the con-
tents of the package nearest him, when, as I glanced
toward him, he looked up, full of self -consciousness, and
turned his gaze directly upon me. His expression told
plainly of growing consternation.
I shook my head in withering pseudo-rebuke and
swiftly indicated to him "to take a whole one." Fortu-
nately, he was quick-witted and caught my meaning, and,
taking the hint, took likewise the cream without further
mishap. After dinner we retired to the green-room,
where, as was the custom, coffee and liqueurs were served.
Here Mr. Blank approached, and, shaking my hand most
gratefully, he whispered, ' ;< God bless my soul, Mrs. Clay !
You're the sweetest woman in the world ! But for
your goodness, heaven only knows what would have
happened ! Perhaps," and he sipped his liqueur con-
templatively, 'perhaps I might have been struggling
with that, that problem yet !'
I met Mme. de Bodisco many times during her widow-
hood, and was present at old St. John's when her second
marriage, with Captain Scott of Her British Majesty's
Life Guards, was celebrated. It was early in the Buchanan
administration, and the bride was given away by the
President. While St. John's, I may add, was often
referred to as a fashionable centre, yet much of
genuine piety throve there, too.
Mme. de Bodisco, who, during her widowhood, had
continued her belleship and had received, it was said,
many offers of marriage from distinguished men, capitu-
lated at last to the young guardsman just named. Great
therefore was the interest in the second nuptials of "so
34 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
popular a beauty. Old St. John's was crowded with the
most distinguished personages in the capital. The aisles
of the old edifice are narrow, and the march of the bride
and the President to the altar was memorable, not only
because of the distinction, but also by reason of the im-
posing proportions of both principals in it. In fact, the
plumpness of the stately bride and the President's ample
figure, made the walk, side by side, an almost impossible
feat. The difficulty was overcome, however, by the tact-
fulness of the President, who led the lady slightly in ad-
vance of himself until the chancel was reached. Here
the slender young groom, garbed in the scarlet and gold
uniform of his rank, stepped forward to claim her, and,
though it was seen that he stood upon a hassock in order
to lessen the difference in height between himself and his
bride, it was everywhere admitted that Captain Scott was
a handsome and gallant groom, and worthy the prize he
had won.
This was Mme. de Bodisco's last appearance in Wash-
ington. With her husband she went to India, where,
it was said, the climate soon made havoc of her health
and beauty; but her fame lingered long on the lips of
her hosts of admirers in Washington. Nor did the
name of de Bodisco disappear from the social list, for,
though his sons were sent to Russia, there to be educated,
Waldemar de Bodisco, nephew of the late Minister, long
continued to be the most popular leader of the German
in Washington.
Throughout the fifties, and indeed for several preceding
decades, the foreign representatives and their suites
formed a very important element in society in the capital.
In some degree their members, the majority of whom were
travelled and accomplished, and many representative of
the highest culture in Europe, were our critics, if not our
mentors. The standard of education was higher in Europe
fifty years ago than in our own land, and to be a favourite
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 35
at the foreign legations was equivalent to a certificate
of accomplishment and social charms. An acquaintance
with the languages necessarily was not the least of these.
The celebrated Octavia Walton, afterward famous as
Mme. Le Vert, won her first social distinction in Wash-
ington, where, chaperoned by Mrs. C. C. Clay, Sr.,
a recognition of her grace and beauty, her
intellectuality and charming manner was instantaneous.
At a time when a knowledge of the foreign tongues was
seldom acquired by American women, Miss Walton,
who spoke French, Spanish and Italian with ease, speedily
became the favourite of the Legations, and thence began
her fame which afterward became international.
During my early residence in Washington, Addie
Cutts (who became first the wife of Stephen A. Douglas
and some years after his death married General Williams)
was the admired of all foreigners. Miss Cutts was the
niece of Mrs. Greenhow, a wealthy and brilliant woman
of the capital, and, when she became Mrs. Douglas, held
a remarkable sway for years. As a linguist Miss Cutts
was reputed to be greatly gifted. If she spoke the many
languages of which she was said to be mistress but half
so eloquently as she uttered her own when, in 1865, she
appealed to President Johnson on behalf of "her loved
friend" my husband, the explanation of her remarkable
nightly levees of the late fifties is readily found.
Though never, strictly speaking, a member of our
;< mess," Mrs. Douglas and I were always firm friends.
While she was still Miss Cutts, and feeling keenly the
deprivations that fall to the lot of the beautiful daughter
of a poor department clerk, * she once complained to me
poutingly of the cost of gloves.
* Apropos of this reference to Mrs. Douglas, Col. Henry Watterson
said to me: "Her passport into Washington society was her relation-
ship to Mistress Dolly Madison, who was her grandatmt. It is true,
Mr. James Madison Cutts, Mrs. Douglas's father, was a department
clerk, but he was the nephew of the former mistress of the White
36 ; I ] A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
"Nonsense,"' I answered. "Were I Addie Cutts, with
hands that might have been chiselled by Phidias, I would
never disguise them in gloves, whatever the fashion!' 1
Miss Cutts entered into the enjoyment of the wealth
and position which her marriage with Stephen A. Douglas
gave her, with the regal manner of a princess. Her
toilettes were of the richest and at all times were models
of taste and picturesqueness. The effect she produced
upon strangers was invariably one of instant admiration.
Writing to me in 1863, my cousin, Mrs. Paul Hammond
(who, before her marriage, had spent a winter with me
at Washington), thus recalled her meeting with the noted
beauty :
"Yesterday, with its green leaves and pearl-white
flowers, called to my memory how Mrs. Douglas looked
when I first saw her. She was receiving at her own house
in a crpe dress looped with pearls, and her hair was
ornamented with green leaves and lilies. She was a
beautiful picture!'
I had the pleasure, on one occasion, of bringing to-
gether Mrs. Douglas and Miss Betty Beirne, the tallest
and the shortest belles of their time. They had long
desired to meet, and each viewed the other with astonish-
ment and pleasure. Miss Beirne, who afterward became
the wife of Porcher Miles of South Carolina, was one of
the tiniest of women, as Mrs. Douglas was one of the
queenliest, and both were toasted continually in the
capital.
During the incumbency of Mr. Crampton, he being a
bachelor, few functions were given at the British Embassy
which ladies attended. Not that the Minister and his
House. Mrs. Douglas was very beautiful," Colonel Watterson con-
tinued. "I remember stepping into the Douglas library one morning,
and coming upon her unexpectedly as she was dusting some bit of
precious bric-a-brac, over which she extended a personal care. She
was en negligee, and, as the colour mounted her cheek, upon my unex-
pected appearance, I thought I had never seen so beautiful, so rosy a.
girl, I told Douglas so !" A. S,
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 37
suite were eremites. On the contrary, Mr. Crampton
was exceedingly fond of "cutting a figure." His traps
were especially conspicuous on the Washington avenues.
Always his own reinsman, the Minister's fast tandem
driving and the stiffly upright ' tiger " behind him, for
several years were one of the sights of the city. In social
life the British Embassy was admirably represented by
Mr. Lumley, Charge d' Affaires, an affable young man
who entered frankly into the life of the city and won the
friendly feeling of all who met him. He was one of the
four young men who took each the novel part of the ele-
phant's leg at a most amusing impromptu affair given
by Mrs. George Riggs in honour of the girl prima donna,
Adelina Patti. It was, I think, the evening of the latter's
debut in 'la Traviata." Her appearance was the occa-
sion of one of the most brilliant audiences ever seen in
Washington. Everyone of note was present, and the
glistening of silk and the flash of jewels no doubt con-
tributed their quota of stimulus to the youthful star.
Within a day of the performance, Senator Clay and I
received a note from Mrs. Riggs, inviting us informally,
not to say secretly, to an after-the-opera supper, to meet
the new diva and her supporting artists. We responded
cordially and drove to the Riggs residence shortly after
the close of the performance.
There, upon our arrival, we found representatives from
all the foreign legations, Patti's entire troupe, and perhaps
a dozen others, exclusive of the family of our hostess.
The prima donna soon came in, a lovely little maiden in
evening dress, with a manner as winsome as was her
appearance. The entertainment now began by graceful
compliment from all present to the new opera queen,
after which Mr. Riggs led her to the dining-room where
the sumptuous supper was spread.
The table was almost as wide as that of the White
House. Its dazzling silver and gold and crystal vessels,
38 "' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
and viands well worthy these receptacles, made a brilliant
centre around which the decorated foreigners seemed
appropriately to cluster. The little cantatrice's undisguised
pleasure was good to see. She had worked hard during
the performance of the opera, and her appetite was keen.
She did ample justice, therefore, to Mrs. Riggs's good
cheer, and goblets were kept brimming for quite two
hours.
This important part of the programme over, a young
Englishman, by name Mr. Palmer, who, as the Chevalier
Bertinatti (the Sardinian Minister) whispered to me, had
been asked "to make some leetle fun for leetle Mees
Patti," opened the evening's merriment by an amusing
exhibition of legerdemain. Mr. Palmer, at that time a
favourite music-teacher, who spent his time between
Washington and Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York,
having in each city numerous fashionable pupils, after-
ward became known to the world as the great prestidigi-
tator, Heller.
On the evening of the Riggses' supper the young ma-
gician was in his best form. Handkerchiefs and trinkets
disappeared mysteriously, only to come to light again in
the most unexpected places, until the company became
almost silent with wonder. Mr. Palmer's last trick
required a pack of cards, which were promptly forth-
coming. Selecting the queen of hearts, he said, looking
archly in the direction of the diminutive Patti: "This
is also a queen ; but she is a naughty girl and we will not
have her!' saying which, with a whiff and a toss, he
threw the card into the air, where it vanished !
Everyone was mystified; but Baron de Staeckl, the
Russian Minister, incontinently broke the spell Mr.
Palmer was weaving around us by picking up a card and
pronouncing the same formula. Then, as all waited to
see what he was about to do, in a most serio-comic
manner he deftly and deliberately crammed it down
ADELINA PATTI
Aged Sixteen
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 39
Mr. Palmer's collar! Amid peals of laughter from all
present, the young man gave place to other and more
general entertainment, in which the most dignified
ambassadors indulged with the hilarity of schoolboys.
From the foregoing incident it will be seen that Baron
de Staeckl was the buffo of the evening. He was a large
man of inspiring, not to say portly figure, and his lapels
glittered with the insignia of honours that had been con-
ferred upon him. Like his predecessor, the late Baron
de Bodisco, he had allied himself with our country by
marrying an American girl, a native of New Haven,
whose family name I have now forgotten. She was a
lovely and amiable hostess, whose unassuming manner
never lost a certain pleasing modesty, notwithstanding
the compliments she, too, invariably evoked. Her table
was remarkable for its napery Russian linen for the
larger part, with embroidered monograms of unusual
size and perfection of workmanship, which were said to
be the handiwork of Slav needlewomen. Although I
had enjoyed their hospitality and had met the de Staeckles
frequently elsewhere, until this evening at the Riggses'
home I had never suspected the genial Baron's full
capacity for the enjoyment of pure nonsense.
There were many amateur musicians among the guests,
first among them being the Sicilian Minister, Massoni.
He was a finished vocalist, with a full operatic repertory
at his easy command. His son Lorenzo was as fine a
pianist, and accompanied his father with a sympathy
that was most rare. That evening the Massonis responded
again and again to the eager urgings of the other guests,
but at last the Minister, doubtless desiring to "cut it
short," broke into the ;< Anvil Chorus." Instantly he
was joined by the entire company.
At the opening strain, the jolly Baron de Staeckl dis-
appeared for a second, but ere we had finished, his
glittering form was seen to re-enter the door, with a
40 I A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
stride like Vulcan's and an air as mighty. In one hand he
held a pair of Mrs. Riggs's glowing brass tongs, in the
other a poker, with which, in faultless rhythm, he was
beating time to his own deep-bellowing basso. He
stalked to the centre of the room with all the pomposity
of a genuine king of opera bouffe, a sly twinkle in his
eye being the only hint to the beholders that he was
conscious of his own ludicrous appearance.
Meantime, Mile. Patti had mounted a chair, where
her liquid notes in alt joined the deep ones of the baron.
As he stopped in the centre of the room, however, the
little diva's amusement reached a climax. She clapped
her hands and fairly shouted with glee. Her mirth was
infectious and quite upset the solemnity of the basso.
Breaking into a sonorous roar of laughter, he made as
hasty an exit as his cumbrous form would allow. I
think a walrus would have succeeded as gracefully.
We were about to withdraw from this gay scene when
the Chevalier Bertinatti, with the utmost enthusiasm,
begged us to stay. "You must!' he cried.. "Ze
elephant is coming ! I assure you zere ees not hees equal
for ze fun!' A moment more and we fully agreed
with him. Even as he spoke, the doors opened and
Mr. Palmer bounded in, a gorgeously got-up ring-master.
I saw my own crimson opera cloak about his shoulders
and a turban formed of many coloured rebozos of other
guests twisted together in truly artistic manner.
'Ladies and gentlemen !' ; he began grandiloquently,
'I have the honour to present to your astonished eyes
the grand elephant, Hannibal, costing to import twenty
thousand dollars, and weighing six thousand pounds !
An elephant, ladies and gentlemen, whose average cost
is three and one-half dollars a pound ! He is a mar-
vellous animal, ladies and gentlemen, warranted to be as
intrepid as his namesake ! He has been called a vicious
creature, but in the present company I intend to prove
WASHINGTON PERSONAGES IN THE FIFTIES 41
him as docile as the ladies themselves! Advance,
Hannibal!"
He threw himself prone upon the floor as the wide
doors opened and "Hannibal ' lumbered in, deliberately
wagging his trunk from side to side, in a manner that was
startlingly lifelike.
Arrived at the prostrate ring-master, he put out one
shapeless leg (at the bottom of which a handsomely shod
man's foot appeared) and touched the prostrate one
lightly, as if fearful of hurting him; he advanced and
retreated several times, wagging his trunk the while;
until, at last, at the urgings of the recumbent hero, the
animal stepped cleanly over him. Now, with a motion of
triumph, Mr. Palmer sprang up and, crossing his arms
proudly over his bosom, cried, * Ladies and gentlemen !
I live / " and awaited the applause which rang out merrily.
Then, leaping lightly upon his docile pet's back, the
latter galloped madly around the room and made for the
door amid screams and shouts of laughter.
In the mad exit, however, the mystery of the elephant
was revealed; for his hide, the rubber cover of Mrs.
Riggs's grand piano, slipped from the shoulders of the
hilarious young men who supported it, and ' Hannibal' ;
disappeared in a confusion of brilliant opera cloaks,
black coats, fleeing patent-leathers, and trailing piano
cover !
This climax was a fitting close to our evening's fun-
making. As our host accompanied us to the door, he
said slyly to my husband, "Not a word of this, Clay!
To-night must be as secret as a Democratic caucus, or
we shall all be tabooed."
CHAPTER III
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL "MESS"
OUR "mess" at Brown's Hotel shortly became so well-
known, because of the interest attaching to so many of its
members, that the enterprising proprietress of (what
afterward became known as) the Ebbitt House, Mrs.
Smith, came in person, with tempting terms to lure
us to her newer establishment.
Heretofore our quarters in the historic old hostelry
had been altogether satisfactory. It was the rendezvous
of Southern Congressmen, and therefore was 'very
agreeable and advantageous," as my husband wrote of
it. For thirty-five years Brown's Hotel had been
the gathering-place for distinguished people. So long
ago as 1820, Thomas Hart Benton met there the repre-
sentatives of the rich fur-trader, John Jacob Astor, who
had been sent to the capital to induce Congressional
indorsement in perfecting a great scheme that should
secure to us the trade of Asia as well as the occupation
of the Columbia River. Within its lobbies, many a por-
tentous conference had taken place. Indeed, the founda-
tions of its good reputation were laid while it was yet the
Indian Queen's Tavern, renowned for its juleps and bitters.
It was an unimposing structure even for Pennsylvania
Avenue, then but a ragged thoroughfare, and, as I have
said, notable for the great gaps between houses ; but the
cuisine of Brown's Hotel, as, until a few years ago,
this famous house continued to be known, was ex-
cellent.
In my days there, the presence of good Mrs. Brown,
42
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 43
the hostess, and her sweet daughter Rose (who married
Mr. Wallach, one of Washington's rich citizens, and
afterward entertained in the mansion that became
famous as the residence of Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas)
added much to the attractions of the old house. Never-
theless, those of the new also tempted us. Thither we
went in a body, and there we spent one or two gay winters ;
but, the Ebbitt becoming more and more heterogeneous,
and therefore less congenial to our strictly legislative
circles, we retraced our ways, our forces still intact, to
good old Brown's.
In the interim, our continually enlarging numbers
found the new quarters convenient and in many respects
even desirable. 'Our 'mess/ so far from being willing
to separate," I wrote to my husband's father, late in '57,
"has insisted upon becoming enlarged. We are located
in a delightful part of the city, on F Street, near the
Treasury Buildings, the Court end as well as the conven-
ient end; for all the Departments as well as the White
House are in a stone's throw. Old Guthrie's is opposite,
and we have, within two blocks, some true-line Senators,
among them Bell, Slidell, Weller, Brodhead, Thomson, of
New Jersey, who are married and housekeeping, to say
naught of Butler, Benjamin, Mason and Goode in a
'mess' near us. Our 'mess' is a very pleasant one.
Orr, Shorter, Dowdell, Sandidge and Taylor, of Louisiana,
with the young Senator Pugh and his bride, Governor
Fitzpatrick and wife, and ourselves compose the party.
Taylor is a true Democrat, and Pugh is as strongly Anti-
Free-soil as we. We keep Free-soilers, Black Republi-
cans and Bloomers on the other side of the street. They
are afraid even to inquire for board at this house."
To the choice list then recorded were added shortly
Congressmen L. Q. C. and Mrs. Lamar, David Clopton,
Jabez L. M. Curry and Mrs. Curry, and General and Mrs.
Chestnut. Our circle included representatives from
44 t A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
several States. Messrs. Fitzpatrick, Shorter, Dowdell,
David Clopton and Jabez L. M. Curry were fellow-
Alabamians, and had been the long-time friends of my
husband and his father, ex-Governor Clay, and of my
uncle, Governor Collier; Congressmen Lamar and Sand-
idge were from Mississippi and Louisiana, respectively;
Congressmen Orr and Chestnut represented South Caro-
lina, and Senator Pugh was from Ohio. It was a dis-
tinguished company. Scarcely a male member of it but
had won or was destined to win a conspicuous position
in the Nation's affairs; scarcely a woman in the circle
who was not acknowledged to be a wit or beauty.
When Mrs. Pugh joined us, her precedence over the
belles of the capital was already established, for, as
Therese Chalfant, her reign had begun a year or two
previous to her marriage to the brilliant young Senator
from Ohio; Miss Cutts, afterward Mrs. Douglas, and
Mrs. Pendleton and the beautiful brune, Mrs. Roger A.
Pryor, being estimated as next in order of beauty. Like
Mrs. Chestnut, also a renowned belle, Mrs. Pugh was
something more than a woman of great personal loveli-
ness. She was intellectual, and remarked as such even
in Washington, where wits gathered. Both of these
prized associates remained unspoiled by the adulation
which is the common tribute to such unusual feminine
comeliness.
I was not present when the Austrian Minister, the
Chevalier Hulseman, paid his great compliment (now a
classic in the capital) to Miss Chalfant ; but it was soon
thereafter repeated to me. It was at a ball at which
pretty women thronged. As the Minister's gaze rested
upon Miss Chalfant, his eyes expanded with admiration.
Approaching, he knelt suddenly before her, exclaiming,
" Madame ! I have from my Empress a piece of precious
lace ' (and he fumbled, but, alas ! vainly, in his pockets
as he spoke) "which her Majesty has commanded me
MRS. ROGER A. PRYOR
of Virginia
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 45
to present to the most beautiful woman in Washington.
You- -you are more, the most beautiful in the world!
I have not with me the lace, but I will send it if you will
permit me!' And he kept his word. We were glad
to welcome to our "mess" so lovely and famous a bride.
Mrs. Pugh's beauty was of so exquisite a type, the bodily
so permeated by the spiritual, that she shone preeminent
wherever she appeared, and this wholly independent of
showy attire. Though always presenting an appearance
of elegance, Mrs. Pugh's gowns were invariably of the
simplest. Our "mess" soon became aware that our
beautiful favourite was primarily a lovely woman, and
no mere gay butterfly. Her nature was grave rather
than vivacious, the maternal in her being exceedingly
strong.
I recall the reply she gave me on the afternoon of a
certain Cabinet day. It was the custom on this weekly
recurring occasion for several of the ladies of our "mess"
to make their calls together, thus obviating the need for
more than one carriage. As my parlours were the only
ones that boasted a pier-glass, and, besides, had the
advantage of being on the drawing-room floor of the
hotel, it became a custom for the women composing our
circle to come to my rooms before going out, in order to
see how their dresses hung. Those were the days of
hoop-skirts, and the set of the outer skirt must needs be
adjusted before beginning a round of calls. As we
gathered there, it was no uncommon thing for one of us
to remark: 'Here comes Pugh, simply dressed, but
superb, as usual. She would eclipse us all were she in
calico !" On the occasion alluded to, I commented to
Mrs. Pugh upon the beauty and style of her bonnet.
'My own make," she answered sweetly. "I can't
afford French bonnets for every-day use when I have
'tockies and shoes to buy for my little fellows ! "
My friendship for Mrs. Pugh is a dear memory of that
46 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
life of perpetual gaiety ere the face of Washington society
was marred by war and scarred by the moral pestilences
that followed in its train; nor can I resist the desire to
quote her own remembrance of our association as she
wrote it in a letter to Senator Clay late in '64, when the
glories of those earlier days had passed away, and the
faces of erstwhile friends from the North were hidden
by the smoke of cannon and a barrier of the slain.
'Your dear wife," she wrote, "was the first and best
friend of my early married life ; and, when I was ushered
into a strange and trying world, she at once took me into
her heart and counsel and made me a better woman and
wife than I would have been alone. No one in this
world ever treated me with the same love outside of my
own family. When I cease to remember either of you
accordingly, it will be when I forget all things !"
Strangely enough, there comes before my mind a picture
of Mrs. Pugh in affliction that overshadows all the mem-
ories of the homage I have seen paid to her. It was late
in the spring of 1859 ; Congress had adjourned and many
of our "mess' 1 had gone their several ways, to mountain
or seashore, bent on rest or recreation, when the little
daughter of Senator and Mrs. Pugh was suddenly taken
ill. For weeks the distracted mother hovered over the
sick-bed of the child, until her haggard appearance was
pitiful to see. My husband and I could not bear to
leave her, and often I shared her vigils, watching hours
beside the dying little Alice.
On an occasion like this (it was evening), my cousin
Miss Milliard, her cheeks glowing and eyes shining with
all the mysterious glow of expectant youth, came into
the sick-room for a few moments on her way to some
social gathering. She was dressed in a pale green, filmy
gown, which lent to her appearance a flower-like sem-
blance that was very fresh and lovely. As Miss Hilliard
entered, Mrs. Pugh lifted her burning eyes from the
MRS. GEORGE E. PUGH (THERESE CHALFANT)
of Ohio
"The most beautiful woman in Washington 1 '
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 47
couch where the rapidly declining little one lay, and
gazed at her visitor like one in a dream. We were
all silent for a moment. Then the worn mother
spoke.
'So radiant! So beautiful!" she said in a voice of
indescribable pathos, "And to think you, too, may come
to this!" ^
I have spoken of Mrs. Pry or, the beautiful wife of the
young diplomat, who had won general public approbation
for his success in conducting a mission to Greece. Not
of our especial mess, Mrs. Pryor frequently mingled with
us, being the friend of Mrs. Douglas and Mrs. Pugh.
They were, in truth, a very harmonious trio, Mrs.
Pugh being a perfect brunette, Mrs. Douglas a blonde,
and Mrs. Pryor a lighter brunette with soft-brown hair
and eyes. She wore a distinctive coiffure, and carried
her head charmingly. Even at that time Mrs. Pryor was
notable for the intellectuality which has since uttered
itself in several charming books.
Though not members of our resident circle, my
memories of dear old Brown's would scarcely be complete
without a mention of little Henry Watterson, with whose
parents our "mess" continually exchanged visits for
years. Henry, their only child, was then an invalid,
debarred from the usual recreations of other boys, by
weak eyes that made the light unbearable and reading
all but impossible; yet at fifteen the boy was a born
politician and eager for every item of news from the
Senate or House.
"What bills were introduced to-day? Who spoke?
Please tell me what took place to-day?" were among the
questions (in substance) with which the lad was wont to
greet the ladies of our "mess," when he knew them to be
returning from a few hours spent in the Senate gallery;
and, though none foresaw the later distinction which
awaited the invalid boy, no one of us was ever so hurried
48 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
and impatient that she could not and did not take time
to answer his earnest inquiries.
It is safe to say that no member of our pleasant circle
was more generally valued than that most lovable of
men, Lucius Q. C. Lamar, : ' Moody Lamar," as he was
sometimes called ; for he was then, as he always continued
to be, full of dreams and ideals and big, warm impulses,
with a capacity for the most enduring and strongest of
friendships, and a tenderness rarely displayed by men
so strong as was he.* Mr. Lamar was full of quaint and
caressing ways even with his fellow-men, which frank
utterance of his own feelings was irresistibly engaging.
I have seen him walk softly up behind Mr. Clay, when
the latter was deep in thought, touch him lightly on the
shoulder, and, as my husband turned quickly to see what
was wanted, 'Lushe" or "big Lushe," as all called him,
would kiss him suddenly and lightly on the forehead.
Yes! Mr. Lamar and his sparkling, bright-souled
wife, Jennie Longstreet, were beloved members of that
memorable :< mess' in ante-bellum Washington.
Next to Congressman Lamar, I suppose it may safely
be said no man was more affectionately held than another
of our mess-mates, Congressman Dowdell, "old Dowdell,"
; 'dear old Dowdell," and sometimes "poor, dear old
Dowdell' being among the forms by which he was con-
tinually designated. Mr. Dowdell had a large and loose
frame, and walked about with a countryman's easy
* Writing to Mrs. Clay from the Department of the Interior, late in
1885, E. V. D. Miller said of Mr. Lamar, then Secretary of the Interior:
'Those nearest in his labours only understand and have compassion
for him, to try to save him all we can. He would take us ail in his
arms, and confer the greatest benefits on us if he could; and a more
tender, appreciative, industrious, kind-hearted man I have never been
associated with, to say nothing of his giant intellect and cultivated
brain and taste. I never knew him until I came to this office with him
and saw him in all these entangling relations. I used to get angry
and avoid him because I thought he neglected my requests and was so
indifferent that there seemed to be a lack of respect; but a closer
knowledge of the demands upon him have disarmed me entirely, and
I fight him no longer." A. S.
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 49
indifference to appearances. A born wag, he some-
times took a quiet delight in accentuating this seeming
guilelessness.
One evening he came strolling in to dinner, prepared
for a comfortable chat over the table, though all the rest
of our little coterie were even then dressing for attend-
ance at a grand concert. It was an event of great impor-
tance, for Gottschalk, the young Creole musician, of whom
all the country was talking, was to be heard in his own
compositions.
'What!" I exclaimed as I saw Mr. Dowdell's every-
day attire, ; You don't mean to tell me you're not going
to the concert ! I can't allow it, brother Dowdell ! Go
right out and get your ticket and attend that concert with
all the rest of the world, or I'll tell your constituents what
sort of a country representative they've sent to the
capital !"
My laughing threat had its effect, and he hurried off
in quest of the ticket, which, after some difficulty, was
procured.
The concert was a memorable one. During the eve-
ning I saw Mr. Dowdell across the hall, scanning the per-
formers with an enigmatical expression. At that time
Gottschalk's popularity was at its height. Every con-
cert programme contained, and every ambitious amateur
included in her repertory, the young composer's "Last
Hope." At his appearance, therefore, slender, agile and
Gallic to a degree, enthusiasm ran so high that we forgot
to hunt up our friend in the short interval between each
brilliant number.
When Mr. Dowdell appeared at the breakfast table the
following morning, I asked him how he had enjoyed the
evening. The Congressman's response came less enthusi-
astically than I had hoped.
'Well," he began, drawing his words out slowly and a
bit quizzically, "I went out and got my ticket; did the
50 " A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
right thing and got a seat as near Harriet Lane's box as
I could; even invested in new white gloves, so I felt all
right ; but I can't say the music struck me exactly ! Mr.
Gottschalk played mighty pretty; hopped up on the
black keys and then down on the white ones' ; (and the
Congressman illustrated by spanning the table rapidly in
a most ludicrous manner). 'He played slow and then
fast, and never seemed to get his hands tangled up once.
But for all that I can't say I was struck by his music !
He played mighty pretty, but he didn't play nary tchune!"
Two interesting members of our "mess"' were General
and Mrs. Chestnut. The General, a member from South
Carolina, who became afterward one of the staff of Jeffer-
son Davis, was among the princes in wealth in the South
in the fifties. Approximately one thousand slaves owned
by him were manumitted by Mr. Lincoln's proclamation
in 1863, when, childless, property-less, our well-loved
Mrs. Chestnut suffered a terrible eclipse after her brilliant
youth and middle age. She was the only daughter of
Governor Miller, of South Carolina, and having been
educated abroad, was an accomplished linguist and
ranked high among the cultured women of the capital.
Moreover, Mrs. Chestnut was continually the recipient
of toilette elegancies, for which the bazaars of Paris were
ransacked, and in this way the curiosity of the emulative
stay-at-home fashionables was constantly piqued. Her
part in that brilliant world was not a small one, for, in
addition to her superior personal charms, Mrs. Chestnut
chaperoned the lovely Preston girls of South Carolina,
belles, all, and the fashionable Miss Stevens, of Stevens
Castle, who married Muscoe Garnett of Virginia. Indeed,
the zest for social pleasures among our circle was often
increased by the coming of guests from other cities.
Among others whom I particularly recall was my cousin
Miss Collier, daughter of Governor Collier of Alabama,
and who married the nephew of William Rufus King, vice-
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 51
President of the United States under Mr. Pierce ; and our
cousins Loula Comer, Hattie Withers, and Miss Milliard.
The latter's wedding with Mr. Hamilton Glentworth of
New York was one of the social events of the winter
of 1859.
Nor should I forget to mention the presence, at the
Ebbitt House and at Brown's Hotel, of another much
admired South Carolinian, Mrs. General McQueen, who
was a Miss Pickens, of the famous family of that name.
My remembrance of Mrs. McQueen is always associated
with that of the sudden death of Preston Brooks, our
neighbour at Brown's Hotel. At the time of this fatality,
Dr. May, the eminent surgeon, was in the building in
attendance upon Mrs. McQueen's little boy, who was
suffering from some throat trouble.
Mr. Brooks had been indisposed for several days, and,
being absent from his seat in the House, it was the cus-
tom for one or the other of his confreres to drop into his
room each afternoon, to give him news of the proceedings.
On that fatal day, Colonel Orr ("Larry," as his friends
affectionately designated him) had called upon the
invalid and was in the midst of narrating the day's doings,
when Mr. Brooks clutched suddenly at his throat and
cried out huskily, "Air ! Orr, air ! '
Mr. Orr hastily threw open the window and began to fan
the sufferer, but became bewildered at the alarming con-
tinuation of his struggles. Had the Congressman but
known it, even as he tried to relieve his friend, Dr. May
passed the door of Mr. Brooks's room, on his way out of
the house, his surgical case in hand ; but the suddenness
of the attack, and a total absence of suspicion as to its
gravity, coupled with the swiftness with which it acted,
confused the watcher, and, ere assistance could be
obtained, the handsome young Southern member had
passed away!
Congressman Orr, as has been said, was one of our
52 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
original "mess' in the capital. From the first he was
a conspicuous figure, nature having made him so. He
was of gigantic stature, weighing then somewhat over
two hundred pounds. His voice was of bugle-like clear-
ness, and when, in 1857, he became speaker of the House
of Representatives, it was a source of remark how won-
derfully his words penetrated to the farthermost corner
of the hall. He was extremely tender-hearted and
devoted to his family, around the members of which his
affections were closely bound.
Just previous to our arrival in the capital, Mr. Orr had
lost a little daughter, and often, ere he brought his family
to the Federal City, in a quiet hour he would come to our
parlours and ask me to sing to him. He dearly loved
simple ballads, his favourite song being " Lilly Dale," the
singing of which invariably stirred him greatly. Often
I have turned from the piano to find his eyes gushing with
tears at the memories that pathetic old-fashioned ditty
had awakened. Mr. Orr was a famous flatterer, too,
who ranked my simple singing as greater than that of
the piquant Patti ; and I question the success of any one
who would have debated with him the respective merits
of that great artiste and my modest self.
When Mr. Orr became Speaker of the House, Mrs.
Orr and his children having joined him, the family
resided in the famous Stockton Mansion for a
season or two. Here brilliant receptions were held, and
Mrs. Orr, a distinguee woman, made her entree into
Washington society, often being assisted in receiving by
the members of the mess of which, for so long, Mr. On-
had formed a part. Mrs. Orr was tall and lithe in figure,
of a Spanish type of face. She soon became a
great favourite in the capital, where one daughter, now
a widow, Mrs. Earle, still lives.
It was at the Stockton Mansion that Daniel E. and
Mrs. Sickles lived when the tragedy of which they formed
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 53
two of the principals took place. Here, too, was run
the American career of another much-talked-of lady,
which, for meteoric brilliancy and brevity, perhaps out-
shines any other episode in the chronicles of social life in
Washington.
The lady's husband was a statesman of prominence,
celebrated for his scholarly tastes and the fineness of his
mental qualities. The arrival of the lady, after a marked
absence abroad, during which some curious gossip had
reached American ears, was attended by great eclat;
and not a little conjecture was current as to how she
would be received. For her home-coming, however,
the Stockton Mansion was fitted up in hitherto un-
dreamed-of magnificence, works of art and of vertu,
which were the envy of local connoisseurs, being imported
to grace it, regardless of cost. So far, so good !
The report of these domiciliary wonders left no doubt
but that entertaining on a large scale was being projected.
The world was slow in declaring its intentions in its own
behalf; for, notwithstanding her rumoured delinquencies,
the lady's husband was high in the councils of the nation,
and as such was a figure of dignity. Shortly after her
arrival our " mess" held a conclave, in which we discussed
the propriety of calling upon the new-comer, but a con-
clusion seeming impossible (opinions being so widely
divergent), it was decided to submit the important
question to our husbands.
This was done duly, and Senator Clay's counsel to me
was coincided in generally.
"By all means, call," said he. ' You have nothing to
do with the lady's private life, and, as a mark of esteem
to a statesman of her husband's prominence, it will be
better to call.' 1
Upon a certain day, therefore, it was agreed that we
should pay a "mess' : call, going in a body. We drove
accordingly, in dignity and in state, and, truth to tell, in
54 3 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
soberness and ceremony, to the mansion aforenamed.
It was the lady's reception day. We entered the drawing-
room with great circumspection, tempering our usually
cordial manner with a fine prudence ; we paid our devoirs
to the hostess and retired. But now a curious retribution
overtook us, social faint-hearts that we were ; for, though
we heard much gossip of the regality and originality of one
or more dinners given to the several diplomatic corps
(the lady especially affected the French Legation), I
never heard of a gathering of Washingtonians at her
home, nor of invitations extended to them, nor, indeed,
anything more of her until two months had flown. Then,
Arab-like, the lady rose in the night, a silently folded her
tent and stole away ' ' (to meet a handsome German officer,
it was said), leaving our calls unanswered, save by the
sending of her card, and her silver and china and crystal,
her paintings, and hangings, and furniture to be auctioned
off to the highest bidder !
Everyone in Washington now thronged to see the
beautiful things, and many purchased specimens from
among them, among others Mrs. Davis. By a curious
turn of fate, the majority of these treasures were ac-
quired by Mrs. Senator Yulee, who was so devoutly
religious that her piety caused her friends to speak of her
as "the Madonna of the Wickliffe sisters !' The superb
furniture of the whilom hostess was carried to "Homo-
sassa," the romantic home of the Yulees in Florida, where
in later years it was reduced to ashes.
Of the Wickliffe sisters there were three, all notably
good as well as handsome women, with whom I enjoyed
a life-time friendship. One became the wife of Judge
Merrick, and another, who dearly loved Senator Clay and
me, married Joseph Holt, who rose high in Federal
honours after the breaking out of the war, having sold
his Southern birthright for a mess of Northern pottage.
For several years before her death, Mrs. Holt was an
A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 55
invalid and a recluse, yet she was no inconspicuous
figure in Washington, where the beauty of the "three
graces' (as the sisters of Governor Wickliffe were always
designated) was long a criterion by which other belles
were judged. Mrs. Mallory, the wife of Senator Yulee's
confrere from Florida, was particularly a favourite in the
capital. The Mallorys were the owners of great orange
groves in that lovely State, and were wont from time to
time to distribute among their friends boxes of choicest
fruit.
Of our "mess," Congressman and Mrs. Curry were
least frequently to be met with in social gatherings. Mrs.
Curry, who was a Miss Bowie, devoted her time wholly
to her children, apparently feeling no interest in the gay
world about her, being as gentle and retiring as her
doughty relative (the inventor of the Bowie knife) was
war-like. Mr. Curry was an uncommonly handsome
man, who, in the fifties and early sixties, was an ambi-
tious and strenuous politician. He died early in 1903,
full of years and honours, while still acting as the
General Agent of the Peabody fund.
Nor should I fail to recall the lovely Mrs. Clopton,
wife of one of Senator Clay's most trusted friends, Con-
gressman David Clopton. She joined our "mess" late
in the fifties, and at once added to its fame by her charm
and beauty. She was a sister of Governor Ligon of
Alabama. One of her daughters married the poet,
Clifford Lanier, and another became the wife of Judge
William L. Chambers, who for several exciting years
represented our Government at Samoa.
But my oldest and dearest mess-mate during nearly
a decade in the capital was, as I have said elsewhere,
Mrs. Fitzpatrick, whose husband, Senator Benjamin
Fitzpatrick, was President of the Senate for four con-
secutive sessions. Senator Fitzpatrick was very matr>
years older than his wife, having, indeed, held office in
56 y A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
1818, when Alabama was a territory, and when few of his
Alabamian associates in Congress had been ushered upon
the stage of life. Between Mrs. Fitzpatrick and me there
was an undeviating attachment which was a source of
wonder, as it doubtless was rare, among women in
fashionable life. As confreres in the Senate, our hus-
bands, despite the disparity in their years, were fully
in accord ; and a more congenial quartette it would have
been hard to find.
I think of all the harmonious couples I have known,
Senator and Mrs. Fitzpatrick easily led, though near to
them I must place General and Mrs. McQueen. It was
a standing topic in Brown's Hotel, the devotion of the
two middle-aged gentlemen Messrs. Fitzpatrick and
McQueen to their young wives and to their boys,
enfants terribles, both of them of a most emphatic type.
"The Heavenly Twins' as a title had not yet been
evolved, or these two young autocrats of the hostelry
would surely have won it from the sarcastic.
Benny Fitzpatrick was at once the idol of his parents
and the terror of the hotel; and, as Mrs. Fitzpatrick and
I were cordially united in other interests of life, so we
shared the maternal duties as became two devoted
sisters, "Our boy Benny' receiving the motherly over-
sight of whichsoever of us happened to be near him when
occasion arose for aid or admonition. 'Mrs. Fitz"
delivered her rebukes with 'Oh, Benny dear! How
could you!' but I, his foster-mother, was constrained
to resort betimes to a certain old-fashioned punishment
usually administered with the broadside of a slipper, or,
what shortly became as efficacious, a threat to do so.
Benny, like George Washington, was the possessor of
a little hatchet, with which he worked a dreadful havoc.
He chopped at the rosewood furniture of his mother's
drawing-room, while his proud parents, amazed at his
precocity, not to say prowess, stood by awestruck, and
, A HISTORIC CONGRESSIONAL MESS 57
paid the bill! The child was plump and healthy, and
boys will be boys ! Thus were we all become his sub-
jects; thus he overran Hannah, his coloured nurse, until
one day Pat came , Pat Dolan.
Pat had been a page at the Senate, and in some for-
gotten way he and little Benny had become inseparable
friends. Thereafter, Benny was taken by his fond
guardian, into whose hands his three anxious parents con-
sented to consign him, to see the varying sights and
the various quarters of the city. As his experiences
multiplied, so his reputation for precocity increased in
exact ratio.
One day Hannah's excitement ran high. "Lor!
Miss 'Relia," she burst out impetuously to Mrs. Fitz-
patrick, ; 'Pat Dolan done carried Benny to the Cath'lic
church an' got him sprinkled, 'n den he brung him to
communion, an' first thing Pat knowed, Benny he
drunk up all the holy water an' eat up the whole wafer ! '
CHAPTER IV
THE CABINET CIRCLES OF THE PIERCE AND BUCHANAN
ADMINISTRATIONS
WRITING to my father-in-law, ex-Governor Clay, on
Christmas night, 1856, of the deep inward excitement of
the times, I said: "We feel a little as Fanny Fern says
Eugenie felt when she espoused Louis Napoleon, as if
we are ' dancing over a powder magazine ! ' Everything
is excitement and confusion. I tell you Fusion reigns
in truth, and Southern blood is at boiling temperature
all over the city, and with good cause, too. Old Giddings,
Thurlow Weed, Sumner, Seward, Chase (who is here for
a few days prior to his inauguration*) are daily taunting
and insulting all whom they dare. There is no more pros-
pect of a Speaker now than there was at first; indeed,
less, and our men have despaired of Christmas holidays
at home. Desertion of their post would mean death to
their party and themselves, and they know and appreciate
it, and, so far, stand firm as a Roman phalanx. Should
there prove one deserter, the 'game is up,' for there is a
Black Republican at every corner of our political fence,
and if ever the gap is down we are gone. I wish you
could be here to witness the scenes daily enacted in the
halls of Congress, to hear the hot taunts of defiance
hurled into the very teeth of the Northerners by our
goaded but spirited patriots. I expect any day to
hear of bloodshed and death, and would not be surprised
at any time to witness (repeated here) the Civil War of
Kansas ! We still hope for Orr, though he is not sanguine.
* As Governor of Ohio.
58
THE CABINET CIRCLES 59
The President still holds his message, fearing to give it
to the press, and it is thought it will go to Congress in
manuscript. He, poor fellow, is worn and weary, and
his wife in extremely delicate health."
President Pierce was, in fact, a very harassed man, as
none knew better than did Senator Clay. My husband's
friendship was unwearying toward all to whom his reserved
nature yielded it, and his devotion to Mr. Pierce was
unswerving. Though twelve years the President's junior,
[rom the first my husband was known as one of the
President's counsellors, and none of those who surrounded
the Nation's executive head more sacredly preserved
his confidence. Senator Clay believed unequivocally
that our President was "not in the roll of common men."
Bold and dauntless where a principle was involved,
Mr. Pierce *s message of '55 fell like a bombshell on the
Black Republican party. Its bold pro-slaveryism startled
even his friends; for, never had a predecessor, while in
the Executive Chair, talked so strongly or so harshly to
sectionalists and fanatics. To this stand, so bravely
taken, his defeat at the next Presidential election was
doubtless at least partially attributable. Meantime, the
South owed him much, and none of its representatives
was more staunchly devoted to President Pierce than
was the Senator from northern Alabama. How fully
Mr. Pierce relied upon Senator Clay's discretion may
be illustrated by an incident which lives still very
vividly in my memory.
My husband and I were seated one evening before a
blazing fire in our parlour at the Ebbitt House, in the
first enjoyment of an evening at home (a rare luxury to
public folk in the capital), when we heard a low and
unusual knock at the door. My trim maid, Emily, has-
tened to open it, when there entered hastily a tall figure,
wrapped in a long storm-cloak on which the snow-flakes
still lay thickly. The new-comer was muffled to the
60 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
eyes. He glanced quickly about the rooms, making a
motion to us, as he did so, to remain silent. My husband
rose inquiringly, failing, as did I, to recognise our mys-
terious visitor. In a second more, however, perceiving
that we were alone, he threw off his outer coat and soft
hat, when, to our astonishment, our unceremonious and
unexpected guest stood revealed as the President !
'Lock that door, Clay!" he said, almost pathetically,
"and don't let a soul know I'm here!' Then, turning,
he handed me a small package which he had carried
under his coat.
"For you, Mrs. Clay," he said. "It is my picture. I
hope you will care to take it with you to Alabama, and
sometimes remember me !"
I thanked him delightedly as I untied the package
and saw within a handsome photograph superbly framed.
Then, as he wearily sat down before our crackling fire,
I hastened to assist Emily in her preparation of a friendly
egg-nog.
"Ah, my dear friends!' said Mr. Pierce, leaning
forward in his arm-chair and warming his hands as he
spoke; 'I am so tired of the shackles of Presidential
life that I can scarcely endure it! I long for quiet
for " and he looked around our restful parlours "for
this ! Oh ! for relaxation and privacy once more, and
a chance for home ! '
His voice and every action betrayed the weary man.
We were deeply moved, and my husband uttered such
sympathetic words as only a wise man may. The egg-
nog prepared, I soon had the pleasure of seeing the
President and Mr. Clay in all the comfort of a friendly
chat. Primarily, the object of his visit was to discuss an
affair of national moment which was to be brought before
the Senate the next day; but the outlook of the times
which also fell naturally under discussion formed no
small part in the topics thus intimately scanned. Both
FRANKLIN PIERCE
President of the United States, 1853-57
THE CABINET CIRCLES 61
were men to whom the horrid sounds of coming combat
were audible, and both were patriots seeking how they
might do their part to avert it. It was midnight ere
Mr. Pierce rose to go. Then, fortified by another of
Emily's incomparable egg-nogs, he was again, incognito,
on his way to the White House.
My remembrances of that secret visit have ever re-
mained most keen. Often, when I think of the lonely
grave on the quiet hillside at Concord, I recall the night
when weariness of body and State formalities impelled
the President to our cozy fireside, though he beat his way
to it through snow and winds, stealing from the trammels
of his position for the mere pleasure of walking the streets
unimpeded and free as any other citizen.
President Pierce entered the White House in 1853,
full as a youth of leaping life. A year before his inaugu-
ration I had seen him bound up the stairs with the
elasticity and lightness of a schoolboy. He went out
after four years a staid and grave man, on whom the
stamp of care and illness was ineradicably impressed.
I often contrasted the pale, worn, haggard man whose
" wine of life was drawn, and the mere lees left i' the vault,"
ere his term (so coveted by many) was spent, with the
buoyant person I first met on the breezy New Hampshire
hills !
Especially a lovable man in his private character,
President Pierce was a man of whom our nation
might well be proud to have at its head. Graced
with an unusually fine presence, he was most courtly
and polished in manner. Fair rather than dark, of
graceful carriage,* he was also an eloquent speaker,
and, though reserved to a degree, was very winning in
manner. He was still in middle life when elected to the
* "President Pierce was one of the handsomest men I have ever
seen !" was the remark of Colonel Watterson to me, while dwelling on
those ante-bellum personages. A. S.
62 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Presidency, being less than forty-nine years of age when
inaugurated.
Taken all in all, the Cabinet circle formed by Mr.
Pierce was one of the most interesting bodies that has
ever surrounded an American Chief Magistrate. Selected
wisely, the ministerial body remained unchanged through-
out the entire Administration, and this at a time of
unceasing and general contention. But three such
instances are recorded in the histories of the twenty-six
Presidents of the United States, the others occurring in
the terms of J, Q. Adams and James A, Garfield. The
tie which bound President Pierce and his Cabinet so
inalienably was one of mutual confidence and personal
friendship. Perhaps the closest ally of the President's
was his Secretary of State, William L. Marcy. That
great Secretary was a man whose unusual poise and
uniform complacency were often as much a source of envy
to his friends as of confusion to his enemies. I com-
mented upon it to my husband on one occasion, wondering
interrogatively at his composure, whereupon Senator
Clay told me the following story :
Some one as curious as I once asked the Secretary
how he preserved his unvarying calmness. "Well," he
answered, confidentially, " I'll tell you, I have given my
secretary orders that whenever he sees an article eulo-
gistic of me, praising my 'astuteness,' my 'far-seeing
diplomacy,' my 'incomparable statesmanship/ etc., he
is to cut it out and place it conspicuously on my desk
where I can see it first thing in the morning; everything
to the contrary he is to cut out and up and consign to
the waste-basket. By this means, hearing nothing but
good of myself, I have come naturally to regard myself
as a pretty good fellow ! Who wouldn't be serene under
such circumstances?"
To add to his contentment thus philosophically as^
sured, the Secretary's home surroundings were peculiarly
MRS. WILLIAM L. MARCY
of New York
THE CABINET CIRCLES 63
satisfactory to him. Mrs. Marcy was a demure and
retiring woman, taking little part in the gayer happenings
of the city, but on Cabinet days her welcome was always
diplomatically cordial and her full parlours gave evidence
of her personal popularity. A charming member of her
family, Nellie, daughter of General R. B. Marcy, be-
came the wife of General McClellan, whose son, named
for that military hero, at this writing is Mayor of
America's metropolis. Between President and Mrs.
Pierce and Secretary and Mrs. Marcy a firm friendship
existed. It was to the home of the Secretary that
President and Mrs. Pierce retired while the White
House was being rehabilitated for the occupancy of Mr.
Buchanan, who had just returned from his residence
abroad, where, as Mr. Pierce 's appointee, he served as
Minister to the Court of St. James.
On the day of Mr. Buchanan's inauguration a curious
oversight occurred which demonstrated in marked
manner how eagerly a populace hastens to shout "The
king is dead! Long live the King!' The procession
of carriages had already formed and the moment for
beginning the march to the Capitol had almost arrived ere
it was observed that the vehicle set apart for President
Pierce was unoccupied. Inquiry was hastily instituted,
when it was discovered that, owing to some omission on
the part of the Master of Ceremonies, his Excellency had
not been sent for ! The horses' heads were turned in a
trice, and they were driven furiously to the Marcy
residence, where the quiet gentleman who was still the
President of the United States awaited them.
Late in the afternoon my husband called upon Mr.
Pierce, and, during the conversation that followed, Mr,
Clay referred indignantly to the unfortunate affair.
"Ah, Clay!" said Mr. Pierce, smiling quietly. "Have
you lived so long without knowing that all the homage is
given to the rising sun, never to the setting, however 4
resplendent its noonday?'
64 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Of Secretaries Campbell and McClelland, the gay, and
especially the Southern world, saw but little; nor did
Caleb Gushing, the Attorney-General, for whom every
Southerner must ever feel a thrill of admiration for
his spirited speech on their behalf in Faneuil Hall,
mingle much with the lighter element. He was a silent
man, a bachelor, who entertained not at all, though
paying dutifully such formal calls as seemed obligatory;
and Senator Clay, whose delicate health and naturally
studious mind made continual attendance upon society
an onerous and often shirked duty, had much in common
with and greatly esteemed Mr. Gushing, at that time
regarded as one of the most earnest statesmen in the
capital.
In later life, one who had been a conspicuous Senator
from Mississippi in ante-bellum days, appraised him
differently, for in 1872 he wrote to my husband in this
wise : " I had no confidence in Gushing beyond that of a
follower to a quicker intellect and a braver heart He
could appreciate the gallantry and fidelity of Pierce, so
he followed him. Like the chameleon, he was green,
or blue, or brown, according to what he rested upon."
An affable young man, Mr. Spofford, member of Mr.
Cushing's household, and serving as that gentleman's
secretary, was no inconsiderable figure in Washington.
He became a great favourite in all the notable drawing-
rooms, especially with young ladies, and the names of a
half-dozen belles were given who had fallen in love with
him; but he remained invulnerable to the flashing eyes
and bright spirits about him, and married a clever
authoress, whose writings, as Harriet Prescott Spofford,
have become familiar to a large class of American readers.
My personal favourite of all the Cabinet Ministers
was the Secretary of the Navy, J. C. Dobbin. He was a
North Carolinian, and the children of my native State
were always dear to me. Being a widower, Mr. Dobbin's
THE CABINET CIRCLES 65
home was also closed from formal entertainment, but
the Secretary was seen now and then in society, where he
was much sought after (though not always found) by the
leading hostesses, whenever he consented to mingle with
it. In his parlours, which now and then he opened to
his most favoured friends, he kept on exhibition for years,
sealed under a glass case, the suit in which Dr. Kane, the
Arctic explorer, had lived during his sojourn among the
icy seas.
Secretary Dobbin was a small man; in truth, a duo-
decimo edition of his sex, and exquisitely presented a
fact which was as freely yielded by his confreres as by
his gentler admirers. A man of conspicuous intellec-
tuality and firmness in the administration of his depart-
ment, his heart was also very tender. Of this he once
gave me an especially treasured demonstration.
My friend, Emily Spicer, wife of Lieutenant William
F. Spicer, afterward Commander of the Boston Navy
Yard, at a very critical time, was suddenly obliged, by the
exigencies of the Naval Service, to see her husband prepare
for what promised to be a long, and, it might prove, a
final separation. Tenderly attached to each other, the
young husband at last literally tore himself from his
wife, leaving her in an unconscious state, from which she
did not recover for many hours. Grave fears were enter-
tained as to the disastrous effect the parting would have
upon the young matron.
Having witnessed the sad scene, I went at once to
Secretary Dobbin and told him of it. His eyes lighted
up most sympathetically, even while he explained to
me the necessity for adhering strictly to the rules of the
Service, but, even as he marshalled the obstacles to my
plea, by intuition I knew his heart was stirred, and when
I parted from him, he said, " Comfort her, dear Mrs. Clay,
with this assurance : If Spicer is on the high seas he shall
be ordered home; if he has arrived in Italy' (for which
66 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
coast the Lieutenant's ship was booked) "he shall remain
there and his wife may join him." I went away grateful
for his sympathy for my stricken friend, and hastened to
soothe her.
The Secretary kept his word. In a few passing weeks
the young couple were reunited on the coast of Italy.
"God bless you, my dear Madame," wrote Lieutenant
Spicer, thereupon. "I am forever thankfully yours!'
And they kept a promise I had exacted, and named the
baby, which proved to be a boy, after my dear husband !
Long after his distinguished namesake had vanished from
the world's stage, a bearded man of thirty came across the
ocean and a continent to greet me, his "second mother,"
as he had been taught to think of me by my grateful
friend, his mother, Mrs. Spicer.
Once more I called upon Secretary Dobbin, on behalf
of a young naval officer, but this time with a less pathetic
request. Our young friend Lieutenant , having
returned from a long cruise (which, while it lasted, had
seemed to be all but unbearable because of its many
social deprivations), upon his arrival was so swiftly
enthralled by the attractions of a certain young lady
(who shall be as nameless as is he) that in his augmenting
fervour he proposed to her at once.
The lady accepted. She was very young, very beau-
tiful, very romantic, and, alas ! very poor ! He was
scarcely older, fully as romantic, and also, alas ! was, if
anything, poorer than she a fact of which his swashing
and naval display of gold-plated buttons and braid
gave no hint.
The romance lasted about two weeks, with waning
enthusiasm on the youth's side, when, in great distress,
he came to see me. He made a clean breast of the
dilemma into which he had plunged.
"I beg you will rescue me, Mrs. Clay," he said. "Get
me transferred, or sent out anywhere ! I've made a
THE CABINET CIRCLES 67
fool of myself. I can't marry her," he declared. "I
haven't income enough to buy my own clothes, and, as
for providing for a girl of her tastes, I don't know whether
I shall ever be able to do so.' :
" But," I remonstrated, " how can I help you ? You've
only just returned, and in the ordinary course of events
you would remain on shore at least six weeks. That
isn't long. Try to bear it a while ! '
'Long enough for a marriage in naval life," he de-
clared, ruefully. : 'And I can't break it off without
your assistance Help me, Mrs. Clay! If you don't '
He looked sheepish, but dogged. 'I'll do what the
Irishman did in Charleston!'
"What was that?" I asked.
' Well ! he was in exactly the same pickle I am in, so he
hired a man and a wheel-barrow, and lying down, face up
in it, had himself rolled past the lady's house at a time
when he knew she was at home. Then, as the barrow
arrived at this point, he had his man stop for a few
moments to wipe the sweat of honest toil from his fore-
head, and, incidentally, to give the lookers-on an oppor-
tunity for complete identification. . , . Only diffi-
culty with that is, how would it affect me in the service ?"
And the Lieutenant became dubious and I thoughtful.
'If I knew on what grounds to approach Secretary
Dobbin," I began.
There aren't any/ 3 the Lieutenant answered eagerly.
' But there are two ships just fitting out, and lots of men
on them would be glad to get off from a three-years'
cruise. I would ship for six years, nine anything that
would get me out of this fix !"
On this desperate statement I applied to the Secretary.
Within ten days my gallant "friend" was on the sea, and
one of Washington's beautiful maidens in tears. Glanc-
ing over my letters, I see that at the end of ten years the
young Naval officer was still unwed, though not
68 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
gether scarless as to intervening love affairs; but the
lady was now the happy wife of a member of one of the
oldest and wealthiest families in the United States !
Secretary Dobbin was my escort on my first (a most
memorable) visit to Fort Monroe. The occasion was a
brilliant one, for the President and his Cabinet had come
in a body to review the troops. Jefferson Davis, then
Secretary of War, and but recently the hero of the battle
of Buena Vista, directed the manoeuvres, his spirited
figure, superb horsemanship, and warlike bearing attract-
ing general attention. An entire day was given up to
this holiday-making, and the scene was one of splendid
excitement. At night the Fort and the waters beyond
were lit up by a pyrotechnic display of great gorgeous-
ness, and enthusiasm rose to its highest when, amid the
booming of cannon and the plaudits of happy people, an
especially ingenious device blazed across the night sky
the names of Franklin Pierce and Jefferson Davis !
Always a man of distinguished appearance, Secretary
Davis at that time was exceedingly slender, but his step
was springy, and he carried himself with such an air of
conscious strength and ease and purpose as often to cause
a stranger to turn and look at him. His voice was very
rich and sonorous, his enunciation most pleasing. In
public speech he was eloquent and magnetic, but, curiously
enough, he was a poor reader, often "mouthing" his
phrases in a way that would have aroused Hamlet's scorn.
Though spoken of as cold and haughty, in private his
friends found him refreshingly informal and frank.
From their first meeting, Secretary Davis was the inti-
mate friend of my husband, whose loyalty to Mr. Davis
in the momentous closing days of the Confederacy reacted
so unfortunately upon his own liberty and welfare.
Neither the Secretary of War nor his wife appeared
frequently in society in the earlier days of his appoint-
ment, the attention of Mr. Davis being concentrated
THE CABINET CIRCLES 69
upon the duties of his office, and a young family engaging
that of his wife. I have heard it said that so wonderful
was Mr. Davis 's oversight of the Department of War
while under his charge, that it would have been impos-
sible for the Government to have been cheated out of the
value of a brass button ! So proud was his adopted State
of him, that at the close of Mr. Pierce's administration,
Mississippi promptly returned Mr. Davis to Washington
as Senator. Almost immediately thereafter he became
the victim of a serious illness, which lasted many weeks,
and a complication of troubles set in which culminated in
the loss of sight in one eye. During that period my hus-
band gave up many nights to the nursing of the invalid,
who was tortured by neuralgic pains and nervous tension.
Senator Clay's solicitude for Mr. Davis was ever of the
deepest, as his efforts to sustain and defend him to the
last were of the most unselfish.
Aaron V. Brown, who became Postmaster-General in
1857, was at once one of the kindest-hearted and simplest
of men, loving his home and being especially indifferent
to all things that savoured of the merely fashionable and
superficial. He occupied a house which by long associa-
tion with distinguished people had become prominently
known. Not infrequently the Brown residence was
alluded to as the "Cabinet Mansion.' 1 Here, among
other celebrities, had lived Attorney-General Wirt, and
in it Mrs. Wirt had compiled the first "Flora's Diction-
ary." The hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Brown, being
boundless, served to accentuate its reputation, for, unlike
her husband, Mrs. Brown was socially most industrious,
and, being exceedingly well-to-do, was full of enterprise
in the invention of novel surprises for her guests. Mrs.
Brown, who was the sister of the afterward distinguished
Major-General Pillow, of the Confederate Army, was the
first hostess in Washington, I think, to introduce orches-
tral music at dinner, and her daughter, Narcissa Sanders,
70 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
with as pronounced a spirit of innovation,* sent out
enormous cards of invitation in her own name, inviting
the distinguished folk of the capital to the house of the
Postmaster-General to meet herself !
I remember a dinner at this luxurious home of Mr.
Brown, at which my host, who took me in, amused me
immensely at the expense of the elaborate feast before
us, and at some of his wife's kindly, if costly, foibles.
Behind a barrier of plants a band played softly ; around
us were the obsequious waiters from Gautier's.
"All from Gautier's !" sighed the Postmaster-General,
in mock despair. "My Wife's napery is the best to be
had, but She will have Gautier's ! Our silver is cer-
tainly not the plainest in the city, but Mrs. Brown must
have Gautier's ! We have an incomparable chef, but
nothing will please my wife but these"; and he scanned
the mysterious menu with its tier after tier of unknown
French names. Then he turned suddenly and asked me,
pointing to a line, "My child, what's this? Don't know,
eh ? Well, neither do I, but let's try it, anyway. I don't
suppose it will kill us," and so on, the good old gentle-
man keeping me in a continual bubble of smothered
laughter to the end of the dinner.
A member of Mr. Pierce's Cabinet, whose house Was
as conspicuous for its large and lavish entertaining as
was Mr. Brown's, was the Secretary of the Treasury,
Guthrie, the wealthy Kentuckian. Mr. Guthrie Was no
society lover (it was a time when statesmen had need to
be absorbed in weightier things), but he entertained, I
always thought, as a part of his public duty. His was a
big, square-shouldered and angular figure, and his appear-
* "I remember," said General Joseph Wheeler, "hearing of those
innovations, and that the guests entered the dining-room two by two,
and left it in the same drdef , to the music of the orchestra. They
introduced the custom of announcing the arrival of each guest at
receptions, by having a functionary call the narrie, aloud, a novelty
against which a good many rebelled." A. S.
THE CABINET CIRCLES 71
ance, it was obvious, at receptions was perfunctory rather
than a pleasure. A widower, his home was presided over
by his two daughters, Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Coke, both
also widowed. I often thought Secretary Guthrie's
capacious ballroom suggestive, in its proportions, of a
public hall.
Here, one evening, I had my never-to-be-forgotten
rencontre with Chevalier Bertinatti, the Sardinian Minis-
ter. Dear old Bertinatti ! In all the diplomatic circle
of the Pierce and Buchanan administrations there was
not to be found a personage at once more dignified and
genial. Serious, yet enthusiastic, his naturally kind
heart adding warmth to the gallantry for which foreign-
ers are famous, the Chevalier was a typical ambassador
of the Latin people. He was a learned man, especially
in matters American, and knew our Constitution better
than did many of our native representatives in Washing-
ton. He encountered bravely, though not always suc-
cessfully, the difficulties of the English language, and his
defeats in this field (such is the irony of fate) have served
to keep him longer in the minds of many than have his
successes.
Upon the occasion to which I have referred, a soiree
was held at Secretary Guthrie's house, at which half the
world was present. I wore that evening a gown of foreign
silk, the colour of the pomegranate blossom, and with it
a Sardinian head-dress and ornaments which had been
sent me by a Consular friend. Seeing me at some dis-
tance, the Chevalier failed to recognise me and asked
one of the hostesses, with whom he was conversing,
'Who is zat lady wis my kontree-woman's ornaments?"
Upon learning my identity he came forward quickly
and, gazing admiringly at me, he threw himself on his
knee before me (kissing my hand as he did so, with
ardent gallantry) as he exclaimed: 'Madame, you are
charming wis zat head-dress like my kontree-women !
A BKLLU OF TIM'; FJI-TIKS
Madame! I assure you, you have conquest me behind
and now you conquest ma before I" and he bowed pro-
foundly.
This remarkable compliment was long remember* ' I
and recounted wherever the name of the kind-heart* ' I
diplomat was mentioned. A great many ties bouii'l
Monsieur Bertinatti to Washington society, not the least
of which was his marriage to Mrs. Bass of Mississippi, an
admired member of the Southern and predominating
element in the capital. Her daughter, who returned to
die in her native land (she was burial from the Cathedral
in Memphis, Tennessee), became the Marquise Incisa <li
Camerana.
When, after decades of political strife, the crucial time
of separation came between the North and the South,
anrj we of the South were preparing to leave the Feder.il
City, I could not conceal my sorrow; and tears, ever a
blessed boon to women, frequently blinded me as 1 bade
first one and then another of our associates what was to
be a Jong good-bye. At such an expression of my grief
the Chevalier Bertinatti was much troubled.
'Don't weep," he said. 'Don't weep, my dear Mrs.
Clay. You have had sixty years of uninterrupted peace 1
This is but a revolution, and all countries must suffer
from them at times I Look at my poor country 1 I was
born in revolution, and reared in revolution, and I expect
to die in revolution !" And with this offering of philosophic
consolation we parted.
CHAPTER V
SOLONS OF THB CAPITAL
THB classes of Washington society in the fifties were
peculiarly distinct. They were not unlike its topography ,
which is made up of many snmll circles and t.riani'Jes, into
each of which run tributary streets and avenues. In the
social life, each division in t he Congressional body was as
a magnetic circle, attracting to itself by way of defined
radii those whose tastes or political interests were in sym-
pathv with it. Not less prominent than the Cabinet
circle (outranking it, in fact), and fully as interesting by
reason of its nndiv/msrd preference lor rhinos solid,
scientific and intellect nal, was the Judiciary or Stipn-mr
('ml ! The several Justices Ilia 1. composed this ans'.nst
body, i Aether with their wives and daughters, formed
a charmed circl. into which l.he merely hj-Jit minded
would scaivriv have ventured. Here one met the wit-
h-.l and the weirjiti. ' mmd ; ..( lh- capital, and here,
perhaps more than in any other coterie, the newcomer
was impressed with what Messrs. Ni>l.i\ and Hay
describe as 'the singular charm of Washington life. 11
In the Supreme Court circle, the conditions attending
Congressional life, in those strennons times forced them-
selves less boldly upon one. Here one discussed phi
losophi'-s, inventions, historv, perhaps, and the arts; sel-
dom the fashions, and as seldom the on dits.
The Nestor of that circle in the fifties was quaint old
Roger B. Taney (pronounced Tawney), who, after various
political disappointments, including a refusal by the
Senate to confirm his appointment as a member of the
73
74 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Cabinet, had received his appointment to the Supreme
Court bench in 1836. Upon the death of Chief Justice
Marshall, Judge Taney became the head of the Supreme
Court body; thus, for more than thirty years, he had
been a prominent personage in the country's legal circles
and a conspicuous resident in Washington. He was an
extremely plain-looking man, with frail body, which once
rose tall and erect, but now was so bent that one always
thought of him as small, and with a head which made me
think of a withered nut. Swarthy of skin, but grey-
haired, Judge Taney was a veritable skeleton, "all mind
and no body"; yet his opinion settled questions that
agitated the nation, and his contemporaries agreed he
was the ablest man who had ever sat upon the Supreme
Court bench. Judge Taney's daughters, gifted and bril-
liant women, were seldom seen in society, but from choice
or necessity chose bread-winning careers. They were
great draughtswomen and made coloured maps, for
which, in those days of expanding territory, there was a
great and constant need.
Of Chief Justice Taney 's associates, Judges Catron and
John A. Campbell became best known to Senator Clay and
myself. These, and other statesmen equally distinguished
and later to be mentioned, having been the friends of
ex-Governor (then Senator) C. C. Clay, Sr., my husband
had been known to them from the days when, as a school-
boy, he had visited his parents in the Federal City. Mrs.
Judge Catron, whom I met soon after my arrival in Wash-
ington, was a woman of great elegance of manner and
dress, and always brought to my mind the thought of a
dowager Duchess. An associate of my husband's mother,
and a native of gay Nashville, Mrs. Catron had been a
social queen in Washington in the late thirties, and her
position of interest was still preserved in 1855.
Judge and Mrs. Campbell, being rich beyond many
others, their home was widely known for sumptuous
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 75
entertaining as well as for its intellectual atmosphere.
Sharing to an extent the public favour, Judge Campbell,
Reverdy Johnson, and Robt. J. Walker were the three
legal giants of their day. Judge Campbell's clients were
among the weathiest in the country, and his fees were said
to be enormous. Had not the war ensued, undoubtedly
he would have been appointed to the Chief Justiceship,
as was commonly predicted for him. He was a man of
great penetration and erudition, and was held in high
esteem by everyone in the capital. In 1861 he cast his
lot with the people of the South, among whom he was
born, and went out of the Federal City to meet what-
soever fate the future held. Judge Campbell became
the earnest adviser of Mr. Davis, and was a Commissioner
of the Confederate Government, together with Alexander
H. Stephens and R. M. T. Hunter, when the three con-
ferred with Mr. Seward, acting as delegate from the
Northern President, Lincoln. Nor did the ensuing years
diminish the great regard of great men for our beloved
Southern scholar.* Writing to Judge Campbell from
Washington on December 10, 1884, Thomas F. Bayard
thus reveals the exalted regard which the former sus-
tained to the close of a long life :
'Mr. Lamar, now Associate Judge of the Supreme
Court, concurs with me," he wrote, "in considering it
highly important that your counsel and opinions should
be freely given to Mr. Cleveland at this important junc-
ture, and respectfully and earnestly I trust you will
concur in our judgment in the matter. Mr. Cleveland
will resign from his present office early in January, but
* Wrote the Assistant Attorney-General, William A. Maury, in
1885, to Judge Campbell: "I called on the President in company with
Judge Gilbert and Mr. Corcoran, and, a most fitting opportunity hav-
ing occurred in the course of our talk, I pleased the President greatly
by telling him you said he was the biggest man who had been in the
White House since you were a child ! Which Mr. Corcoran supple-
mented by saying, 'And Judge Campbell is a man who means what
he says ! '
76 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
can easily and conveniently receive you for the purpose
suggested in the interview."*
In those days of Washington's splendour, Mrs. Camp-
bell and her daughter Henrietta were no less distin-
guished for their culture, intellectuality, and exclusive-
ness. Mrs. Campbell was the first Southern woman
to adopt the English custom of designating her coloured
servant as "my man.' 1 At the home of the Campbells
one met not only the legal lights of Washington, but
scientists and travellers, as if law and the sciences were
drawn near to each other by natural selection. Professor
Henry, of the Smithsonian Institution, was a frequent
visitor at this home, as was also Professor Maury, the
grand road-master of the ocean, who, by the distribution
of his buoys, made a track in the billows of the Atlantic
for the safe passing of ships.
I remember an amusing visit paid by a party from our
mess to the observatory of Professor Maury. It was
an occasion of special interest. Jupiter was displaying
his brilliancy in a marvellous way. For no particular
reason, in so far as I could see, the Professor's great
telescope seemed to require adjusting for the benefit of
each of the bevy present. I noticed Professor Maury's
eye twinkling as he went on with this necessary ( ?) pre-
liminary, asking, betimes : ' What do you see ? Nothing
clearly ? Well, permit me ! ' And after several experi-
ments he would secure, at last, the right focus. When
all of his guests had been treated to a satisfactory view
of the wonders of the sky, Professor Maury delivered
himself somewhat as follows:
'Now, ladies, whilst you have been studying the
heavenly bodies, I have been studying you ! ' and the
quizzical expression deepened in his eye.
"Go on," we assented.
* Held between Messrs. Cleveland, President-elect, and Bayard in
the official residence, which is segregated from the Capitol.
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 77
"Well," said the Professor, "I have a bill before
Congress," (mentioning its nature) "and if you ladies
don't influence your husbands to vote for it, I intend
to publish the ages of each and every one of you to the whole
of Washington! 1
Remembering the mutability of political life, it was
and remains a source of astonishment to me that in the
Government circles of the fifties were comprised so
many distinguished men who had retained their positions
in the political foreground for so many years; years,
moreover, in which an expanding territory was causing
the envy for office to spread, infecting the ignorant as
well as the wise, and causing contestants to multiply in
number and their passions to increase in violence at each
election.
When Senator Clay and I took up our residence in
the Federal City, there were at least a dozen great
statesmen who had dwelt almost continuously in
Washington for nearly twoscore years. Writing of these
to Governor Clay, in 1858, my husband said "Mr. Bu-
chanan looks as ruddy as ever; General Cass as young
and vigorous as in 1844, and Mr. Dickens* appears as
he did in 1834, when with you I was at his home at an
evening party!' Thomas Hart Benton, the great
Missourian, who for seven long years struggled against
such allied competitors as Senators Henry Clay, Calhoun,
and Webster, in his fight against the Bank of the United
States, probably out-ranked all others in length of public
service ; but, besides Mr. Benton, there were Chief Justice
Taney and his associates, Judges Catron, James M.
Wayne, and John McLean, of Ohio; Senator Crittenden,
of Kentucky, and General George Wallace Jones all
men who had entered political life when the century was
young.
Among my pleasantest memories of Washington are
* Asbury Dickens, Clerk of the Senate.
78 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the evenings spent at the home of Mr. Bcnton. His
household, but recently bereft of its mistress, who had
been a long-time invalid, was presided over by his daugh-
ters, Mrs. General Fremont, Mrs. Thomas Benton Jones,
and Mme. Boileau. The last-named shared, with the
Misses Bayard and Maury, a reputation for superior
elegance among the young women of the capital. The
daughters of Mr. Benton had been splendidly educated,
it was said, by their distinguished father, and they repaid
his care of them by a lifelong adoration. A handsome
man in ordinary attire, the great old author and states-
man was yet a more striking figure when mounted. He
rode with a stately dignity, quite unlike the pace indulged
in by some other equestrians of that city and day; a
day, it may be said in passing, when equestrianism was
common. Mr. Benton's appearance and the slow gait
of his horse impressed me as powerful and even majestic,
and often (as I remarked to him at dinner one evening)
there flashed through my mind, as I saw him, a remem-
brance of Byron's Moorish King as he rode benignly
through the streets of Granada. He seemed gratified at
my comparison.
"I'm glad you approve of my pace," he said. 'I
ride slowly because I do not wish to be confounded with
post-boys and messengers sent in haste for the surgeon.
They may gallop if they will, but not Senators."
At his own table Mr. Benton was an oracle to whom
everyone listened eagerly. I have seen twenty guests
held spellbound as he recited, with thrilling realism,
a history of the Clay-Randolph duel, with the details
of which he was so familiarly acquainted. I never
heard him allude to his great fight in the Senate,
when, the galleries crowded with men inimical to him,
his wife and General Jones sent out for arms to protect
the fearless Senator from the onslaught which seemed
impending; nor to his nearly thirty years' strife for the
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 79
removal of the onerous Salt Tax; but the dinners before
which his guests sat down were flavoured with the finest
of Attic salt, of which he was a connoisseur, which served
to sting into increased eagerness our interest in his rich
store of recollections.
Wherever Mr. Benton was seen he was a marked per-
sonage. There was something of distinction in the very
manner in which he wore his cravat, and when he spoke,
men listened instinctively. Of his daughters, Mrs.
Fremont was probably the most gifted, and Mme. Boileau
the most devoted to fashionable society. Mme. Boileau
was the wife of a French attache, and was remarked as
she drove about in the streets with a be-ribboned spaniel
upon the front seat of her calash. Many years after my
acquaintance in Washington with Mr. Benton's family
(it was during the Cleveland Administration), I was
present at a reception given by Mrs. Endicott when I
observed among the guests a very busy little woman,
in simple black apparel, whose face was familiar to me,
but whom I found myself unable to place ; yet everyone
seemed to know her. I heard her address several foreign-
ers, in each case employing the language of his country,
and, my curiosity increasing, I asked at last, 'Who is
that small lady in black?'
To my surprise, she proved to be Mrs. Fremont !
I soon made my way to her. She seemed almost
impatient as I said, "Mrs. Fr6mont, I can never
forget you, nor the charming evenings at your father's
house, though you, I am sure, have forgotten me!'
She looked at me searchingly and then spoke, im-
petuously :
! Yes ! yes ! I remember your face perfectly, but
your name- -Tell me who you are, quick. Don't keep
me waiting ! ' I promptly gratified her, and in the con-
versation that followed, I added some reference to her
father's great book, "Thirty Years' View," which, until
8o A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the destruction of my home during the Civil War, had
formed two of our most valued volumes.
"Ah!" cried Mrs. Fremont. "You are a woman of
penetration ! I have always said my father's book is the
Political Bible of America. I know it will not perish!'
I have referred to General George Wallace Jones.
No memory of ante-bellum Washington and its moving
personages would be complete were he, the pet of women
and the idol of men, left out. He was born in 1804,
when the Union was young ; and adventure and patriotism,
then sweeping over our country, were blended in him.
As a child he came out of the young West, still a wilder-
ness, to be educated in Kentucky. He had been a ser-
geant of the body-guard of General Jackson, and to the
Marquis de la Fayette upon the latter's last visit to the
United States in 1824. Thereafter he figured in the
Black Hawk War as aid to General Dodge. His life was
a continual panorama of strange events. In the Great
Indian War he became a Major-General; then a County
Judge; and appeared at the capital as delegate from the
Territory of Michigan early in 1835. General Jones's
personal activity becoming known to the Government,
he was made Surveyor-General of the Northwest. It
was about this time that he, being on the Senate floor,
sprang to the side of Mr. Benton while the gallery hummed
ominously with the angry threats of the friends of the
Bank defenders, and personal violence seemed unavoid-
able. I never knew how many of the Western States
were laid out by General Jones, but they were numerous.
In his work of surveying he was accompanied by young
military men, many of whom played conspicuous parts
in the history of the country, at that time but half of
its present size. Among these was Jefferson Davis, then
a civil engineer.
General Jones was indefatigable in his attendance
at social gatherings, and continued to out-dance young
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 81
men, even when threescore rich years were his. He had
been a great favourite with my husband's parents during
their Congressional life, so great indeed that father's
message of introduction spoke of him as "My son!"
and his fraternal offices to us are among the brightest
memories I hold of life at the capital. The General
was a small, wiry man, renowned for his long black hair,
glossy and well-kept as was any belle's, and which seemed
even to a very late period to defy, time to change it. In
society he was sprightly as a kitten, and at seventy-five
would poke his glistening black head at me, declaring
as he did so, Til give you anything you ask, from a
horse to a kiss, if you can find one grey hair among the
black!"
General Jones died in the West, just before the close
of the nineteenth century, but to the end he was gay
and brave, and elastic in body and mind. So indomitable
was his spirit even in those closing days, that he revived
a memory of the war days in the following spirited letter
written in 1894, just after the celebration of his ninetieth
birthday. At this time he was made King of the Carnival,
was complimented by the Governor of Iowa, "the
two branches of the General Assembly, and by the
Supreme Court, they, too, being Republicans and total
strangers to me save one Republican Senator and one
Democratic representative from this County," as his gay
account of the episode ran.
'I told several times," he added, "of how you and
dear Mrs. Bouligny prevented me from killing Seward.
It was the day you stopped me, as you sat in your car-
riage in front of Corcoran & Riggs's bank, and I was
about to pass you. I would certainly have killed Seward
with my sword-cane but that you stopped me. I was
about to follow the Secretary as he passed the bank
door, between his son Frederick and some other men. I
would have run my sword through him and immediately
82 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
have been cut into mince-meat by the hundreds of
negro guards who stood all round. Do you recollect
that fearful incident? God sent two guardian angels to
save my life. How can I feel otherwise than grateful
to you for saving me that day ! J:
The recalling of this pioneer-surveyor of the great
Western wilderness revives, too, the name of as notable
a character in the Southwest, and one who will always
be identified with the introduction of cotton in the
Southern States, and the land-grants of the territory of
Louisiana. I never met Daniel Clarke, but very early
in my married life, and some years before I went to the
capital to reside, I became acquainted with that re-
markable woman, his daughter, Mrs. Myra Clarke Gaines.
I had accompanied my husband to New Orleans, where
we stopped at the St. Charles Hotel, then two steps or
more above the ground level, though it settled, as all
New Orleans buildings do sooner or later, owing to the
moist soil.
The evening of our arrival we were seated in the
dining-room when my attention was attracted by the
entrance of a very unusual couple. The man was well-
advanced in years, but bore himself with a dignified and
military air that made him at once conspicuous. There
was a marked disparity between this tall, commanding
soldier and the very small young woman who hung
upon his arm 'like a reticule or a knitting-pocket," as
I remarked sotto voce to Mr. Clay. Her hair was
bright, glistening chestnut, her colour very fresh and rich,
and her golden-hazel eyes glowed like young suns. These
orbs were singularly searching, and seemed to gauge every-
one at a glance. Mr. Clay, having already an acquaintance
with General Gaines, in a few moments I was presented
to the (even then) much-talked-of daughter of General
Clarke.
Never did woman exhibit more wifely solicitude,
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 83
From the beginning of that dinner Mrs. Gaines became
the General's guardian. She arranged his napkin,
tucking it carefully into the V of his waistcoat, read
the menu and selected his food, waiting upon him as
each course arrived, and herself preparing the dressing
for his salad. All was done in so matter-of-fact and
quiet a manner that the flow of General Gaines 's
discourse was not once interrupted. Though I met this
interesting woman a number of times in later years, in
Washington and elsewhere, that first picture of Mrs.
Gaines, probably the bravest woman, morally, of her
time, has remained most vividly. When, as a widow,
accompanied by her daughter, Mrs. Gaines visited
Washington, she was the cynosure of all eyes in
every assemblage in which she was seen. Her fearless
pleading in the Supreme Court was the theme of con-
versation the country over. People thronged to see
a woman whose courage was so indomitable, and none
but were surprised at the diminutive and modest heroine.
Senator Crittenden, of Kentucky, was already a Solon
in the counsels of the Nation, when, in 1841, Senator
C. C. Clay, Sr., left the Senate. A major in the army
in 1812, Mr. Crittenden had made his appearance in
Congress in 1817, and thereafter continued prominent in
Washington life, as Senator or Cabinet member (in the
Cabinets of Presidents Harrison and Fillmore), so that
for thirty or more years his name had been associated
with the names of our great law-makers, especially with
those of the second quarter of the century. When I
met Senator Crittenden in the middle fifties, he was a
carefully preserved gentleman of courtly and genial
manners. Besides the brilliancy that attached to his
long career in Congressional life, he was distinguished as
the husband of a still charming woman, whose proud
boast it was that she was perfectly happy. This declara-
tion alone was enough to make any woman in society
84 ^ A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
remarkable; yet, to judge from her serene and smiling
appearance, Mrs. Crittenden did not exaggerate her
felicity. She was a sweet type of the elderly fashionable
woman, her face reflecting the utmost kindness, her
corsage and silvery hair gleaming with brilliants, her
silken petticoats rustling musically, and, over the lustrous
folds of her rich and by no means sombre costumes,
priceless lace fell prodigally.
Nor were there lacking notes and even whole gowns of
warm colour significant of the lady's persistent cheeriness.
I remember my cousin, Miss Comer, a debutante of seven-
teen at that time, remarking upon Mrs. Crittenden's
dress one evening at a ball.
"It's exactly like mine, cousin !" she said, not without
a pout of disappointment. And so, in truth, it was, both
being of bright, cherry corded silk, the only difference
between them being that the modest round-necked
bodice of my little cousin by no means could compete
with the noble decollete of the older lady. But, in justice
to the most estimable Mrs. Crittenden, it must be added
that her neck and shoulders were superbly moulded, and,
even in middle age, excited the envy of her less fortunate
sisters.
'Lady" Crittenden, as she was often called, accounted
for her contentment in this wise: " I have been married
three times, and in each alliance I have got just what I
wanted. My first marriage was for love, and it was
mine as fully as I could wish ; my second for money, and
Heaven was as good to me in this instance ; my third was
for position, and that, too, is mine. What more could
I ask?" '.-- :
What more, indeed!
One met dear old Mrs. Crittenden everywhere. She
was of the most social disposition, a fact which sometimes
aroused the good-natured irony of her distinguished
husband. I remember an instance in which this was
MRS. J. J. CRITTENDEN
of Kentucky
SOLONS OF THE CAPITAL 85
demonstrated, at the White House, which greatly amused
me at the time. It was at a dinner party, and Senator
Crittenden, who boasted that he had eaten at the White
House table with every President since the days of
Monroe, assumed the blase air which everyone who knew
him recognised as a conscious affectation.
'Now there's 'Lady' Crittenden," he began, nodding
in the direction of that smiling personage, "in all the
glory of a new and becoming gown, and perfectly happy
in the glamour of this." And he waved his hand about
the room with an air of fatigue and, at the same time, a
comprehensiveness that swept in every member, grave
or giddy, in the large assemblage. 'If I had my way,"
and he sighed as he said it, ; ' nothing would give me
greater pleasure than to hie me back to the wilds of
dear old Kentucky ! Ah ! to don my buckskins once
more, shoulder a rifle, and wander through life a free
man, away from all this flummery !'
He sighed again (for the tangled woods ?) as he detected
a speck upon his faultless sleeve and fastidiously brushed
it off!
'Pshaw! Stuff and nonsense, Senator!' I retorted,
rallying him heartlessly. ' Fancy your being condemned
to that ! You wouldn't stand it two days, unless an
election were in progress and there were country con-
stituents to interview. Everyone knows you are as fond of
fat plums and plump capons, both real and metaphorical,
as any man in the capital! As for society being dis-
agreeable to you, with a good dinner in view and pretty
women about you Fie, Senator ! I don't believe you !'
Whereat our Solon laughed guiltily, like one whose pet
pretense has been discovered, and entered forthwith into
the evening's pleasures as heartily as did his spouse, the
perfectly happy "Lady" Crittenden.
CHAPTER VI
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES
To ESTIMATE at anything like their value ante-bellum
days at the capital, it must be borne in mind that the
period was one of general prosperity and competitive
expenditure. While a life-and-death struggle raged
between political parties, and oratorical battles of
ominous import were fought daily in Senate Chamber
and House, a very reckless gaiety was everywhere ap-
parent in social circles. Especially was this to be ob-
served in the predominant and hospitable Southern
division in the capital; for predominant Southern
society was, as even such deliberately partisan historians
as Messrs. Nicolay and Hay admit; and, what these
gentlemen designate as "the blandishments of Southern
hospitality," lent a charm to life in the Government
circles of that day which lifted the capital to the very
apex of its social glory. Writing of these phases of life
in the capital, in a letter dated March, 1858, I said to
Governor Clay: !< People are mad with rivalry and
vanity. It is said that Gwin is spending money at the
rate of $75,000 a year, and Brown and Thompson quite
the same. Mrs. Thompson (of Mississippi) is a great
favourite here. Mrs. Toombs, who is sober, and has but
one daughter, Sally, who is quite a belle, says they spend
$1,800 per month, or $21,000 per annum. '
The four years' war, which began in '61, changed
these social conditions. As the result of that strife
poverty spread both North and South. The social
world at Washington, which but an administration before
86
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 87
had been scarcely less fascinating and brilliant than the
Court of Louis Napoleon, underwent a radical change;
and the White House itself, within a month after it went
into the hands of the new Black Republican party,
became degraded to a point where even Northern men
recoiled at the sight of the metamorphosed conditions.*
In the days of Presidents Pierce and Buchanan,
Washington was a city of statesmen, and in the fore-
ground, relieving the solemnity of their deliberations in
that decade which preceded the Nation's great disaster,
were fashion and mirth, beauty and wit. It was then,
as the government city of a Republic must ever be, a
place of continuous novelty, of perpetual changes, of new
faces. The fashionable world comes and goes in the
Federal City with each Presidential term of four and
Senatorial term of six years, and its longer or shorter
stays of the army and navy contingent, and always it
gathers its personnel from as many points as there are
States in the Union, and as many parts of the world as
those to which our diplomatic relations extend.
In the fifties, when the number of States was but two
dozen, the list of representatives gathering at the capital
was proportionately smaller than in the present day, and
society was correspondingly select. Moreover, political
distinction and offices not infrequently continued in
many families through several generations, sons often
succeeding their fathers in Congress, inheriting, in some
degree, their ancestors' friends, until a social security
had been established which greatly assisted to give
* In a letter dated New York, April 6, 1861, a correspondent, the
intimate associate of James Gordon Bennett, wrote as follows: "I have
been in Washington twice since I had the pleasure of seeing you, and I
can say truthfully, that . . . the ensemble of the personnel of the
White House has sadly changed, more befitting a restaurant than the
House of the President. They tell me many droll stories of them, and
all are deservedly rich. 'Old Abe' tells stories and Mrs. Lincoln sim-
pers. They keep a household of those horrid . . . people with
them all the time, mais assez/"
88 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
charm and prestige to the fashionable coteries of the
Federal centre. For example, for forty years previous
to my husband's election to the Senate, the two branches
of the Clay family had been prominent in the life of the
capital. In the late twenties, C. C. Clay, Sr., had been
active in the House, while the great Henry Clay was
stirring the country through his speeches in the Senate;
in the fifties, Mr. James B. Clay, son of the great Ken-
tuckian, was a Congressman when the scholarly states-
manship of Senator C. C. Clay, Jr., of Alabama, was
attracting the admiration and praise of North and South
alike. It is a pathetic coincidence that to my husband,
during his sojourn in Canada, fell the sad privilege of
ministering at the death-bed of Mr. Clay, of Kentucky,
who died in that alien land without the solacing presence
of wife or children. Shortly before the end came, he
presented to Senator Clay the cane which for years
had been carried by the great orator, Henry Clay.*
The fashions of the times were graceful, rich and
picturesque. Those of the next decade, conspicuous
for huge chignons, false hair, and distorting bustles, rose
like an ugly barrier between the lovely costuming of the
fifties and the dressing of to-day. A half-century ago,
the beauties of the capital wore their hair a la Grecque,
with flowers wreathed over it, or a simple golden dagger
or arrow to secure it. Their gowns were festooned with
blossoms that trailed over bodice and skirt until not
seldom they became, by reason of their graceful orna-
* Some time after Clement C. Clay's return to the Confederate States,
this cane was purloined by some unknown person. Years passed;
one day Mr. Clay received an inquiry as to whether he had ever owned
a cane on which his name appeared below that of the Kentucky Sena-
tor's; the writer explained that he wished to know its history and to
return the cane to its rightful owner. Eager for the recovery of his
valued souvenir, Mr. Clay responded; but his unknown correspondent,
having gained the information he sought, lapsed into silence. Said
Mrs. Clay, in relating this incident, "And we never heard more of the
cane !" A. S.
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 89
merits, veritable Perditas. These delicate fashions con-
tinued until nearly the end of the decade, when they
were superseded by more complicated coiffures and a
general adoption of heavy materials and styles.
In 1 858-'$ 9 the hair was arranged on the top of the
head in heavy braids wound like a coronet over the head,
and the coiffure was varied now and then with a tiara of
velvet and pearls, or jet or coral. Ruffled dresses gave
place to panelled skirts in which two materials, a plain
and embossed or brocaded fabric, were combined, and
basques with postillion backs became the order of the
day. The low-coiled hair and brow free from frizzes
and bangs (a Vidiote, as our satirical friends, the French,
describe them) was the style adopted by such pre-
eminent beauties as Mrs. Senator Pugh, who was regarded
by Baron Hulseman as without a peer, and Mrs. Senator
Pendleton, who, in Lord Napier's opinion, had the most
classic head he had seen in America.
Low necks and lace berthas, made fashionable because
of their adoption by Miss Lane, were worn almost uni-
versally, either with open sleeves revealing inner ones of
filmy lace, or sleeves of the shortest possible form, allowing
the rounded length of a pretty arm to be seen in its
perfection. Evening gloves were half-length only, or
as often reaching only half-way to the elbow. They
were of kid or silk with backs embroidered in delicate
%
silks, with now and then a jewel sparkling among the
colours. Jewels, indeed, were conspicuous even in
men's dressing, and gentlemen of fashion were rare who
did not have varieties of sparkling studs and cravat-pins
to add to the brightness of their vari-coloured vests.
The latter not infrequently were of richest satin and
velvet, brocaded and embroidered. They lent a de-
sirable note of colour, by no means inconspicuous, to the
swallow-tailed evening dress of that time, a note, by-the-
bye, which was supplemented by a tie of bright soft
9 o * A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
*
silk, and of ample proportions. President Buchanan
was remarkable for his undeviating choice of pure white
cravats. Fashion was not then arbitrary in the matter
of gentlemen's neckwear, and high or low collars were
worn, as best suited the taste of the individual.
To the attire of the women of the Government City in
that day our home manufacturers contributed but little.
In fact, the industries of our country yielded but a
common grade of materials designed for wearing apparel,
and were altogether unequal to the demands of a capital
in which the wealthy vied with their own class in foreign
cities in the acquisition of all that goes to make up the
moods and character of fashion. Our gloves and fans
and handkerchiefs, our bonnets and the larger part of
our dress accessories, as well as such beautiful gown
patterns as were purchased ready to be made up by a
New York or Washington dressmaker, were all imported
directly from foreign houses, and the services of our
travelling and consular friends were in constant requisition
for the selection of fine laces, shawls, flounces, under-
sleeves and the other fashionable garnitures. Scarcely
a steamer but brought to the capital dainty boxes of
Parisian flowers, bonnets and other foreign novelties,
despatched by such interested deputies.
It was astonishing how astute even our bachelor
representatives abroad became in the selection of these
articles for the wives of their Senatorial indorsers in
Washington. I was frequently indebted for such friendly
remembrances to my cousin, Tom Tait Tunstall, Consul
at Cadiz, and to Mrs. Leese, wife of the Consul at Spezia
and sister of Rose Kierulf and Mrs. Spicer. Thanks to
the acumen of these thoughtful friends, my laces, es-
pecially, and a velvet gown, the material of which was
woven to order at Genoa, were the particular envy of my
less fortunate " mess-mates."
I remember with much pleasure the many courtesies
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 91
of William Thomson, Consul at Southampton, England,
who was one of the many from whom the war afterward
separated us. From the time of his appointment in
1857 his expressions of friendliness were frequent toward
Miss Lane, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, myself, and, I doubt not,
toward many other fortunate ones of the capital.
To the first named he sent a remarkable toy-terrier,
so small that ;< it might be put under a quart bowl," as
he wrote to me. The little stranger was a nine-days'
curiosity at the White House, where it was exhibited to
all who were on visiting terms with Miss Lane. That I
was not the recipient of a similar midget was due to the
death of 'Nettle,' 11 the animal selected for me.
: * Please ask Miss Lane," he wrote, "to show you her
terrier, and you will be sure it is the identical 'Nettle.'
I shall succeed in time in finding a good specimen for
you!"
But Mr. Thomson's efforts and discrimination were
by no means directed solely toward the selection of
canine rarities. In truth, he showed himself in every
way fitted to become a most satisfactory Benedick
(which I sincerely hope was his fate in the course of time) ,
for, besides picking up now and then odd and choice
bits of quaint jewelry, such as may please a woman's
fancy, and many an interesting legend about which to
gossip, he discovered a power of discernment in regard
to the wearing apparel of my sex, which was as re-
freshing in its epistolary revelations as it was rare among
his sex.
' I did think of sending you and Mrs. Fitzpatrick one of
the new style petticoats," he wrote in March, 1858, ; 'so
novel, it seems, at the seat of government ; but, upon in-
quiry for the material, my bachelor wits were quite out-
done, for I could not even guess what size might suit both
you ladies ! Since sending a few lines to you, I have
spent a day at Brighton, which is in my district, and I saw
92 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
quite a new style and decided improvement on the petticoat.
A reversible crimson and black striped linsey-wolsey under
a white cambric skirt, with five, seven, or nine tucks of
handsome work, not less than ten or twelve inches deep.
This style of new garment is very distingue to my feeble
bachelor eye, and would attract amazingly in Washing-
ton just now."
Among the first to introduce in the capital the fashion
of holding up the skirt to show these ravishing petti-
coats were the lovely sisters of Thomas F. Bayard, after-
ward Secretary of State and Minister to England under
President Cleveland, and the Misses Maury, daughters
of the ex-Mayor of Washington, all of whom were con-
spicuous for their Parisian daintiness. None of this
bevy but looked as if she might have stepped directly
from the rue St. Germain.
The bewildering description by Mr. Thomson had
scarcely arrived, ere fashion was busy evolving other
petticoat novelties and adjuncts. A quaint dress ac-
cessory at this time, and one which remained very much
in vogue for carriage, walking, and dancing dresses,
consisted of several little metal hands, which, depending
from fine chains attached at the waist, held up the skirt
artistically at a sufficient height to show the flounces
beneath. The handkerchiefs of the time, which were
appreciably larger than those in use to-day, and very
often of costly point -lace, were drawn through a small
ring that hung from a six-inch gold or silver chain, on
the other end of which was a circlet which just fitted
over the little finger.
I have spoken of our Washington dressmakers; how
incomplete would be my memories of the capital did I
fail to mention here Mrs. Rich, the favourite mantua-
maker of those days, within whose power it lay to trans-
form provincial newcomers, often already over-stocked
with ill-made costumes and absurdly trimmed bonnets,
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 93
into women of fashion ! Mrs. Rich was the only Recon-
structionist, I think I may safely say, on whom Southern
ladies looked with unqualified approval. A Recon-
structionist ? She was more; she was a physician who
cured many ills for the women of the Congressional
circles, ills of a kind that could never be reached by our
favourite physician, Dr. Johnston, though he had turned
surgeon and competed in a contest of stitches ; for, to the
care of the wives of our statesmen each season, came
pretty heiresses from far-off States, to see the gay Govern-
ment City, under their experienced guardianship, and
to meet its celebrities. These, often mere buds of girls, were
wont to come to the capital supplied with costly brocade
and heavy velvet gowns, fit in quality for the stateliest
dame ; with hats weighty with plumes that might only be
worn appropriately in the helmet of a prince or a Gains-
borough duchess, and with diamonds enough to please
the heart of a matron. To strip these slim maidens of
such untoward finery, often of antediluvian, not to say
outlandish, cut and fashion, and to reapparel them in
such soft fabrics as became their youth and station, was
no small or easy task for her who had undertaken to
chaperone them.
Nor were these sartorial faux pas confined to the girl
novices and their far-off kind, and usually lavish parents.
Many a charming matron came to the capital as innocent
of any knowledge of the demands of fashionable life as
a schoolgirl. There was the wife of a distinguished
legislator who afterward presided over an American
embassy abroad, a sweet little nun of a woman, who
arrived in Washington with a wardrobe that doubtless
had caused her country neighbours many a pang of
envy. It comprised garments made of the costliest
fabrics, but, alas ! which had been cut up so ridiculously
by the local seamstress that the innocent wearer's
first appearance in the gay world of the capital was the
94 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
signal for irrepressible smiles of amusement and simpers
of derision from the more heartless.
Because of a friendship between our husbands, our
little nun fell into my hands, and I promptly convoyed
her to the crucible of Mrs. Rich, that dauntless spirit,
and my unfailing resource, sure of her ability to work
the necessary transmutation. Alas ! as we were about
to step out of our carriage, I was startled by the appear-
ance, above a shapely enough foot, of a bright, yes ! a
brilliant indigo-blue stocking ! Not even Mr. Shillaber's
heroine from Beanville could boast a trapping more
blatantly blue ! I held my breath in alarm ! What
if the eye of any of the more scornful fashionables should
detect its mate? I hurried my charge back into the
vehicle at once and summoned our good friend Mrs.
Rich to the door; and our errand that morning was
accomplished by the aid of a trim apprentice, who brought
to our calash boxes of samples and fashion-plates for our
scanning.
Many, indeed, were the debtors to Mrs. Rich in those
days, for the taste and despatch with which she performed
her incomparable miracles. And I would not refrain
from acknowledging an act of kindness at her hands in
darker days; for, when I returned to Washington in 1865
to plead with the President for my husband's release
from Fortress Monroe, she generously refused payment
for the making of the modest dress I ordered, declaring
that she longed to serve one who had directed so many
clients to her in former days !
But there were occasions when a pressure upon the
time of Mrs. Rich necessitated the seeking of other
assistance, and a hasty journey was made to Mile. Roun-
tree, of Philadelphia, or even to New York, where the
fashionable dressmakers were capable of marvellous
expedition in filling one's order completely, even to the
furnishing of handkerchiefs and hosiery and slippers to
MRS. CHESTNUT
of South Carolina
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 95
suit a special gown. I remember the arrival of some
wonderful "creations' made in the metropolis for
Miss Stevens, of Stevens Castle, who was spending the
season with my 'mess-mate," Mrs. Chestnut, and boxes
of gowns as admirable, and from the same source, for the
lovely Marian Ramsey, who became Mrs. Brockholst
Cutting, of New York. Miss Ramsey, who was an
especially admired belle in Washington, was the daughter
of that delightfully irascible old Admiral, who, it was
said, was such a disciplinarian that he never entered
port without having one or more of his crew in irons.
Brilliant as was the social life in Washington at this
time, and remarkable for its numbers of handsome men
and lovely women, I remember no exquisites of the
Beau Brummel or Disraeli type, though there were
many who were distinguished as men of fashion, of
social graces and talent.
Foremost among the popular men of the capital were
Philip Barton Key (brother of the classic Mrs. Pendleton,
Mrs. Howard of Baltimore, and of Mrs. Blount, who
attained a reputation among her contemporaries upon
the stage), Preston Brooks, and Laurence Keitt, members
of Congress from South Carolina, the last named of
whom married the wealthy Miss Sparks. For a long
time previous to that alliance, Mr. Keitt and his colleague
from North Carolina, Mr. Clingman, were looked upon
as rival suitors for the hand of Miss Lane. Mr. Keitt
was the friend of Preston Brooks, who was one of the
most magnetic and widely admired men in the capital.
Were half of the compliments here repeated which
the name alone of Mr. Brooks at that time elicited, they
must serve to modify the disfavour into which this
spirited young legislator from South Carolina fell after
his historic assault upon Mr. Sumner in the Senate.
When, a few months after that unfortunate affair, the
body of Mr, Brooks lay on view in the Federal City,
96 *; ; A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
mourning for him became general, and his obsequies
were remarkable for the crowds that hastened to pay
their last tribute to him.
I recall an amusing incident by which I offended
(happily, only momentarily) our good friends Congress-
man and Mrs. Keitt, owing to a tendency I possessed
to indulge in nonsense whenever furnished with the
slightest pretext for it. When the former arrived at the
capital, he was commonly addressed and alluded to as
'Kitt," a wholly unwarrantable mispronunciation of
his name, but one which had become current in the
vernacular of his State, and which, from sheer force of
habit, continued in use in the Federal City. To the
retention of this nickname, however, his bride strongly
objected, and so persistently did she correct all who miss-
called the name, that the Congressman's old friends,
though publicly conforming to the lady's wishes, smiled
in private, and among themselves clung fondly to the
old pronunciation.
This little contention was still in operation when an
interesting event took place in the Keitt household. On
the evening of the happy day, meeting Senator Hammond
at dinner, he asked me casually, "What's the news?'
"Why! haven't you heard?" I replied. "Kitt has
a kitten!"
My poor joke, so unexpected, exploded Senator Ham-
mond's gravity immediately. So well did the sally
please him, that it speedily became an on dit, alas ! to
the passing annoyance of the happy young pair. Mrs.
Keitt was one of Washington's most admired young
matrons, a graceful hostess, and famous for her social
enterprise. It was she who introduced in the capital the
fashion of sending out birth-cards to announce the arrival
of infants.
I have spoken of Barton Key. He was a widower
during my acquaintance with him, and I recall him as
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 97
the handsomest man in all Washington society. In
appearance an Apollo, he was a prominent figure at all
the principal fashionable functions; a graceful dancer,
he was a favourite with every hostess of the day. Clever
at repartee, a generous and pleasing man, who was even
more popular with other men than with women, his
death at the hands of Daniel E. Sickles in February,
1859, stirred Washington to its centre.
I remember very vividly how, one Sunday morning, as
I was putting the finishing touches to my toilette for
attendance at St. John's, Senator Clay burst into the
room, his face pale and awe-stricken, exclaiming: "A
horrible, horrible thing has happened, Virginia ! Sickles,
who for a year or more has forced his wife into Barton's
company, has killed Key; killed him most brutally,
while he was unarmed !'
This untimely death of a man allied to a famous
family, and himself so generally admired, caused a
remarkable and long depression in society. Yet, so
strenuous were the political needs of the time, and so
tragic and compelling the demands of national strife
now centred in Washington, that the horrible calamity
entailed no punishment upon its author.
Only the Thursday before the tragedy, in company
with Mrs. Pugh and Miss Acklin, I called upon the un-
fortunate cause of the tragedy. She was so young and
fair, at most not more than twenty-two years of age, and
so naive, that none of the party of which I was one was
willing to harbour a belief in the rumours which were
then in circulation. On that, Mrs. Sickles' last "at
home/' her parlours were thronged, one-half of the
hundred or more guests present being men. The girl
hostess was even more lovely than usual. Of an Italian
type in feature and colouring (she was the daughter of a
famous musician, Baggioli, of New York), Mrs. Sickles
was dressed in a painted muslin gown, filmy and graceful,
98 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
on which the outlines of the crocus might be traced. A
broad sash of brocaded ribbon girdled her slender waist,
and in her dark hair were yellow crocus blooms. I never
saw her again, but the picture of which she formed the
centre was so fair and innocent, it fixed itself perma-
nently upon my mind.
When my husband first entered the United States
Senate, in 1853, there were not more than four men in
that body who wore moustaches. Indeed, the prejudice
against them was great. I remember a moustached
gallant who called upon me on one occasion, to whom
my aunt greatly objected, for, she said, referring to the
growth upon his upper lip, ' No one but Tennessee hog-
drivers and brigands dress like that ! ' When Mr. Clay
withdrew from the Senate, in January, 1861, there were
scarcely as many without them. Side and chin whiskers
were worn, if any, though the front of the chin was
seldom covered. Many of the most distinguished states-
men wore their faces as smoothly shaven as the Romans
of old. Until late in the fifties, men, particularly legis-
lators, wore their hair rather long, a fashion which has
been followed more or less continuously among statesmen
and scholars since wigs were abandoned.
This decade was also notable as that in which the
first radical efforts of women were made toward suffrage,
and the 'Bloomer' costume became conspicuous in the
capital. ' Bloomers are ' most as plenty as black-
berries,' I wrote home late in '56, "and generally are
followed by a long train of little boys and ditto ' niggers ' ! "
Nor were there lacking figures among the " stronger " sex
as eccentric as those of our women innovators. Of these,
none was more remarkable than " old Sam Houston."
Whether in the street or in his seat in the Senate, he was
sure to arrest the attention of everyone. He wore a
leopard-skin vest, with a voluminous scarlet neck-tie,
and over his bushy grey locks rested an immense som-
FASHIONS OF THE FIFTIES 99
brero. This remarkable headgear was made, it was
said, from an individual block to which the General
reserved the exclusive right. It was of grey felt, with
a brim seven or eight inches wide. Wrapped around
his broad shoulders he wore a gaily coloured Mexican
serape, in which scarlet predominated. So arrayed, his
huge form, which, notwithstanding this remarkable garb,
was distinguished by a kind of inborn grandeur, towered
above the heads of ordinary pedestrians, and the ap-
pearance of the old warrior, whether viewed from the
front or the rear, was altogether unique. Strangers
stared at him, and street urchins covertly grinned, but
the Senatorial Hercules received all such attentions
from the public with extreme composure, not to say
gratification, as a recognition to which he was entitled.
In the Senate, General Houston was an indefatigable
whittler. A seemingly inexhaustible supply of soft wood
was always kept in his desk and out of it he whittled stars
and hearts and other fanciful shapes, while he cogitated,
his brows pleated in deep vertical folds, over the grave
arguments of his confreres. A great many conjectures
were made as to the ultimate use of these curious devices.
I can, however, explain the fate of one.
As our party entered the gallery of the Senate on one
occasion, we caught the eye of the whittling Senator,
who, with completest sang-froid, suspended his occupa-
tion and blew us a kiss ; then with a plainly perceptible
twinkle in his eye, he resumed his usual occupation. A
little while afterward one of the Senate pages came up
and handed me a most pretentious envelope. It was
capacious enough to have contained a package of govern-
ment bonds. I began to open the wrappings ; they were
mysteriously manifold. When at last I had removed
them all, I found within a tiny, shiny, freshly whittled
wooden heart, on which the roguish old hero had inscribed,
"Lady! I send thee my heart! Sam Houston."
ioo A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
This remarkable veteran was seldom to be seen at social
gatherings, and I do not remember ever to have met him at
a dinner, but he called sometimes upon me on my weekly
reception days, and always in the remarkable costume I
have described. He had acquired, besides the Mexican-
Spanish patois, a number of Indian dialects, and nothing
amused him more than to reduce to a confused silence
those who surrounded him, by suddenly addressing them
in all sorts of unknown words in these tongues. My own
spirit was not so to be crushed, and, besides, I had a lurk-
ing doubt as to the linguistic value of the sounds he
uttered. They bore many of the indicia of the newly
invented, and I did not hesitate upon one occasion to
enter upon a verbal contest of gibberish on my side, and
possibly on his, running the gamut of emphasis through-
out it ; and, notwithstanding General Houston's depreca-
tions (in Indian dialect), sustained my part so seriously
that the tall hero at last yielded the floor and, wrapping
his scarlet serape about him, made his exit, laughing
hilariously at his own defeat.
CHAPTER VII
THE RELAXATIONS OP CONGRESSIONAL FOLK
IN that period of social activity it was no uncommon
thing for society women to find themselves completely
exhausted ere bedtime arrived. Often so tired was I
that I have declared I couldn't have wiggled an antennae
had I numbered anything so absurd and minute among
my members ! For my quicker recuperation, after a day
spent in the making of calls, or in entertainment, with, it
may be, an hour or two in the Senate gallery, in prepara-
tion for the evening's pleasure, my invaluable maid, Emily
(for whom my husband paid $1,600), was wont to get out
my ; * shocking-box " (for so she termed the electrical
apparatus upon which I often depended), and, to a full
charge of the magical current and a half -hour's nap before
dinner, I was indebted for many a happy evening.
Amid the round of dinners, and dances, and receptions,
to which Congressional circles are necessarily compelled,
the pleasures of the theatre were only occasionally to be
enjoyed. Nor were the great artists of that day always
to be heard at the capital, and resident theatre and music-
lovers not infrequently made excursions to Baltimore,
Philadelphia, or New York, in order to hear to advantage
some particularly noted star. Before our advent in the
capital it had been my good fortune, while travelling in
the North, to hear Grisi and Mario, the lovely Bozio, and
Jenny Lind, the incomparable Swede, whose concerts at
Castle Garden were such epoch-marking events to music-
lovers in America. I remember that one estimate of the
audience present on the occasion of my hearing the last-
IQI
102 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
named cantatrice was placed at ten thousand. Whether
or not this number was approximately correct I do not
know, but seats and aisles in the great hall were densely
packed, and gentlemen in evening dress came with camp-
stools under their arms, in the hope of finding an oppor-
tunity to place them, during a lull in the programme,
where they might rest for a moment.
The wild enthusiasm of the vast crowds, the simplicity
of the singer who elicited it, have been recorded by many
an abler pen. Suffice to say that none have borne, I
think, for a longer time, a clearer remembrance of that
triumphant evening. When, at the end of the programme
the fair, modest songstress came out, music in hand, to
win her crowning triumph in the rendering of a familiar
melody, the beauty of her marvellous art rose superior
to the amusement which her broken English might have
aroused, and men and women wept freely and unashamed
as she sang.
'Mid bleasures and balaces,
Do we may roam," etc.
It was by way of a flight from the capital that Senator
Clay and I and a few congenial friends were enabled
to hear Parepa Rosa and Forrest; and Julia Dean, in
'Ingomar," drew us to the metropolis, as did Agnes
Robertson, who set the town wild in the " Siege of Sebas-
topol."
I remember very well my first impression of Broadway,
which designation seemed to me a downright misnomer;
for its narrowness, after the great width of Pennsylvania
Avenue, was at once striking and absurd to the visitor
from the capital. Upon one of my visits to New York
my attention was caught by a most unusual sight. It
was an immense equipage, glowing and gaudy under the
sun as one of Mrs. Jarley's vans. It was drawn by six
prancing steeds, all gaily caparisoned, while in the huge
JENNY LIND
From a photograph made about 1851
RELAXATIONS OP CONGRESSIONAL FOLK 103
structure (a young house, "all but" ) were women in
gaudy costumes. A band of musicians were concealed
within, and these gave out some lively melodies as the
vehicle dashed gaily by the Astor House (then the popular
up -town hotel) , attracting general attention as it passed.
Thinking a circus had come to town, I made inquiry,
when I learned to my amusement that the gorgeous caval-
cade was but an ingenious advertisement of the new
Sewing Machine !
Charlotte Cushman, giving her unapproachable "Meg
Merrilies' 1 in Washington, stirred the city to its depths.
Her histrionism was splendid, and her conversation in
private proved no less remarkable and delightful. 'I
could listen to her all day," wrote a friend in a brief note.
' I envy her her genius, and would willingly take her ugli-
ness for it ! What is beauty compared with such genius ! ' :
A most amusing metrical farce, 'Pocahontas," was
given during the winter of ' 5 7-5 8, which set all Wash-
ington a-laughing. In the cast were Mrs. Gilbert, and
Brougham, the comedian and author. Two of the
ridiculous couplets come back to me, and, as if it were
yesterday, revive the amusing scenes in which they were
spoken.
Mrs. Gilbert's r61e was that of a Yankee schoolma'am,
whose continual effort it was to make her naughty young
Indian charges behave themselves. : Young ladies ! '
she cried, with that inimitable austerity behind which
one always feels the actress's consciousness of the "fun of
the thing ' ' which she is dissembling,
Young Ladies ! Stand with your feet right square !
Miss Pocahontas ! just look at your hair ! '
and as she wandered off, a top-knot of feathers waving
over her head, her wand, with which she had been drilling
her dusky maidens, held firmly in hand, she cut a pigeon-
io 4 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
wing that brought forth a perfect shout of laughter from
the audience.
This troupe appeared just after the Brooks-Sumner
encounter, of which the capital talked still excitedly,
and the comedian did not hesitate to introduce a mild
local allusion which was generally understood. Breaking
in upon her as Pocahontas wept, between ear-splitting
cries of woe at the bier of Captain Smith, he called out
impatiently,
" What's all this noise ? Be done ! Be done !
D'you think you are in Washington?"
Mr. Thackeray's lecture on poetry was a red-letter
occasion, and the simplicity of that great man of letters
as he recited "Lord Lovel" and 'Barbara Allen' was
long afterward a criterion by which others were judged.
Notable soloists now and then appeared at the capital,
among them Ap Thomas, the great Welsh harpist, and
Bochsa, as great a performer, whose concerts gained so
much in interest by the singing of the romantic French
woman, Mme. Anna Bishop. Her rendering of "On the
Banks of the Gaudalquiver "' made her a great favourite
and gave the song a vogue. That musical prodigy, Blind
Tom, also made his appearance in ante-bellum Washing-
ton, and I was one of several ladies of the capital invited
by Miss Lane to hear him play at the White House.
Among the guests on that occasion were Miss Phillips of
Alabama and her cousin Miss Cohen of South Carolina,
who were brilliant amateur players with a local reputation.
They were the daughter and niece, respectively, of Mrs.
Eugenia Phillips, who, less than two years afterward,
was imprisoned by the Federal authorities for alleged
assistance to the newly formed Confederate Government.
At the invitation of Miss Lane, the Misses Phillips and
Cohen took their places at the piano and performed a
RELAXATIONS OF CONGRESSIONAL FOLK 105
brilliant and intricate duet, during which Blind Tom's
face twitched with what, it must be confessed, were hor-
rible grimaces. He was evidently greatly excited by the
music he was listening to, and was eager to reproduce it.
As the piece was concluded, he shuffled about ner-
vously. Seeing his excitement, one of the pianistes volun-
teered to play with him and took her seat at the instru-
ment. Desiring to test him, however, in the second ren-
dering, the lady cleverly, as she supposed, elided a page
of the composition ; when, drawing himself back angrily,
this remarkable idiot exclaimed indignantly, " You cheat
me ! You cheat me ! '
While a visit to the dentist, be he never so famous, may
hardly be regarded as among the recreations of Con-
gressional folk,' yet a trip to Dr. Maynard, the fashionable
operator of that day, was certainly among the luxuries of
the time ; as costly, for example, as a trip to New York,
to hear sweet Jenny Lind. Dr. Maynard was distinctively
one of Washington's famous characters. He was not
only the expert dentist of his day, being as great an ele-
ment in life at the capital as was Dr. Evans in Paris, but
he was also the inventor of the world-renowned three-
barrelled rifle known as the Maynard. His office was like
an arsenal, every inch of wall-space being taken up with
glittering arms.
A peculiarity of Dr. Maynard was his dislike for the
odour of the geranium, from which he shrank as from
some deadly poison. Upon the occasion of one neces-
sary visit to him, unaware of this eccentricity, I wore a
sprig of that blossom upon my corsage. As I entered
the office the doctor detected it.
'Pardon me, Mrs. Clay," he said at once, "I must ask
you to remove that geranium !" I was astonished, but
of course the offending flower was at once detached and
discarded; but so sensitive were the olfactories of the
doctor, that before he could begin his operating, I was
106 v A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
obliged to bury the spot on which the blossom had lain
under several folds of napkin.
Dr. Maynard was exceedingly fond of sleight of hand,
and on one occasion bought for his children an outfit
which Heller had owned. In after years the Czar of
Russia made tempting offers to this celebrated dentist,
with a view to inducing him to take up his residence in
St. Petersburg, but his Imperial allurements were unavail-
ing, and Dr. Maynard returned again to his own orbit.
A feature of weekly recurrence, and one to which all
Washington and every visitor thronged, was the concert
of the Marine Band, given within the White House
grounds on the green slope back of the Executive Mansion
overlooking the Potomac. Strolling among the multi-
tude, I remember often to have seen Miss Cutts, in the
simplest of white muslin gowns, but conspicuous for her
beauty wherever she passed. Here military uniforms
glistened or glowed, as the case might be, among a crowd
of black-coated sight-seers, and one was likely to meet
with the President or his Cabinet, mingling democratically
with the crowd of smiling citizens.
At one of these concerts a provincial visitor was observed
to linger in the vicinity of the President, whom it was
obvious he recognised. Presently, in an accession of
sudden courage, he approached Mr. Pierce, and, uncover-
ing his head respectfully, said, " Mr. President, can't I go
through your fine house? I've heard so much about it
that I'd give a great deal to see it."
' Why, my dear sir ! ' ' responded the President, kindly,
'that is not my house. It's the people's house. You
shall certainly go through it if you wish ! " and, calling an
attendant, he instructed him to take the grateful stranger
through the White House
The recounting of that episode revives the recollection
of another which took place in the time of President
Buchanan, and which was the subject of discussion for
RELAXATIONS OF CONGRESSIONAL FOLK 107
full many a day after its occurrence. It was on the oc-
casion of an annual visit of the redmen, always a rather
exciting event in the capital.
The delegations which came to Washington in the
winters of '54-58 numbered several hundred. They
camped in a square in the Barracks, where, with almost
naked bodies, scalps at belt and tomahawks in hand,
they were viewed daily by crowds of curious folk as they
beat their monotonous drums, danced, or threw their
tomahawks dexterously in air. Here and there one
redskin, more fortunate than the rest, was wrapped in a
gaudy blanket, and many were decked out with large
earrings and huge feather-duster head-dresses. A single
chain only separated the savages from the assembled
spectators, who were often thrown into somewhat of a
panic by the sullen or belligerent behaviour of the former.
When in this mood, the surest means of conciliating
the Indians was to pass over the barrier (which some
spectator was sure to do) some whisky, whereupon their
sullenness immediately would give place to an amiable
desire to display their prowess by twirling the tomahawk,
or in the dance.
To see the copper-hued sons of the Far West, clad in
buckskin and moccasins, paint and feathers, stalking
about the East Room of the White House at any time
was a spectacle not easily to be forgotten; but, upon the
occasion of which I write, and at which I was present, a
scene took place, the character of which became so
spirited that many of the ladies became frightened and
rose hurriedly to withdraw. A number of chiefs were
present, accompanied by their interpreter, Mr. Garrett,
of Alabama, and many of them had expressed their
pleasure at seeing the President. They desired peace
and goodwill to be continued; they wished for agricul-
tural implements for the advancement of husbandry
among their tribes; and grist mills, that their squaws
io8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
no longer need grind their corn between stones to make
"sofky' (and the spokesman illustrated the process by a
circular motion of the hand). In fact, they wished to
smoke the Calumet pipe of peace with their white brothers.
Thus far their discourse was most comfortable and
pleasing to our white man's amour propre; but, ere the
last warrior had ceased his placating speech, the dusky
form of a younger redskin sprang from the floor, where,
with the others of the delegation, he had been squatting.
He was lithe and graceful as Longfellow's dream of
Hiawatha. The muscles of his upper body, bare of
all drapery, glistened like burnished metal. His gesticu-
lations were fierce and imperative, his voice strangely
thrilling.
"These walls and these halls belong to the redmen!'
he cried. "The very ground on which they stand is
ours ! You have stolen it from us and I am for war,
that the wrongs of my people may be righted !'
Here his motions became so violent and threatening
that many of the ladies, alarmed, rose up instinctively,
as I have said, as if they would fly the room ; but our dear
old Mr. Buchanan, with admirable diplomacy, replied in
most kindly manner, bidding the interpreter assure the
spirited young brave that the White House was his pos-
session in common with all the people of the Great
Spirit, and that he did but welcome his red brothers to
their own on behalf of the country. This was the gist
of his speech, which calmed the excitement of the savage,
and relieved the apprehension of the ladies about.
A conspicuous member of the delegation of '54-55
was the old chief Apothleohola, who was brought to see
me by the interpreter Garrett. His accumulated wealth
was said to be $80,000, and he had a farm in the West,
it was added, which was worked entirely by negroes.
Apothleohola was a patriarch of his tribe, some eighty
years of age, but erect and powerful still. His face on
JAMES BUCHANAN
President of the United States, 1857-61
RELAXATIONS OF CONGRESSIONAL FOLK 109
the occasion of his afternoon visit to me was gaudy with
paint, and he was wrapped in a brilliant red blanket,
around which was a black border; but despite his gay
attire there was about him an air of weariness and even
sadness.
While I was still a child I had seen this now aged
warrior. At that time, five thousand Cherokees and
Choctaws, passing west to their new reservations beyond
the Mississippi, had rested in Tuscaloosa, where they
camped for several weeks. The occasion was a notable
one. All the city turned out to see the Indian
youths dash through the streets on their ponies. They
were superb horsemen and their animals were as re-
markable. Many of the latter, for a consideration, were
left in the hands of the emulous white youth of the town.
Along the river banks, too, carriages stood, crowded
with sight-seers watching the squaws as they tossed
their young children into the stream that they might
learn to swim. Very picturesque were the roomy
vehicles of that day as they grouped themselves along
the leafy shore of the Black Warrior, their capacity
tested to the fullest by the belles of the little city, arrayed
in dainty muslins, and bonneted in the sweet fashions
of the time.
During that encampment a redman was set upon by
some quarrelsome rowdies, and in the altercation was
killed. Fearing the vengeance of the allied tribes about
them, the miscreants disembowelled their victim, and,
filling the cavity with rocks, sank the body in the river.
The Indians, missing their companion, and suspecting
some evil had befallen him, appealed to Governor C. C.
Clay, who immediately uttered a proclamation for the
recovery of the body. In a few days the crime and its
perpetrators were discovered, and justice was meted out
to them. By this prompt act Governor Clay, to whose
wisdom is accredited by historians the repression of the
no '- ' A BELLE OP THE FIFTIES
Indian troubles in Alabama in 183 5^3 7, won the good-
will of the savages, among whom was the great warrior,
Apothleohola.
It was at ex-Governor Clay's request I sent for the now
aged brave. He gravely inclined his head when I asked
him whether he remembered the Governor. I told him
my father wished to know whether the chief Nea Mathla
still lived and if the brave Apothleohola was happy in his
western home. His sadness deepened as he answered,
slowly, "Me happy, some! 1
Before the close of his visit, Mr. Garrett, the inter-
preter, asked me if I would not talk Indian to his charge.
1 'You must know some!' he urged, " having been
brought up in an Indian country ! '
I knew three or four words, as it happened, and these I
pronounced, to the great chief's amusement ; for, pointing
his finger at me he said, with a half -smile, 'She talk
Creek!"
A few days after this memorable call, I happened into
the house of Harper & Mitchell, then a famous dry-
goods emporium in the capital, just as the old warrior
was beginning to bargain, and I had the pleasure and
entertainment of assisting him to select two crepe shawls
which he purchased for his daughters at one hundred
dollars apiece !
It was my good fortune to witness the arrival of the
Japanese Embassy, which was the outcome of Commodore
Perry's expedition to the Orient. The horticulturist of
the party, Dr. Morrow, of South Carolina, was a frequent
visitor to my parlours, and upon his return from the
East regaled me with many amusing stories of his Eastern
experiences. A special object of his visit to Japan was to
obtain, if possible, some specimens of the world-famous
rice of that country, with which to experiment in the
United States. Until that period our native rice was
inferior; but, despite every effort made and inducement
RELAXATIONS OF CONGRESSIONAL FOLK
in
offered, our Government had been unable to obtain even
a kernel of the unhusked rice which would germinate.
During his stay in the Orient, Dr. Morrow made
numberless futile attempts to supply himself with even a
stealthy pocketful of the precious grain, and in one
instance, he told us, remembering how Professor Henry
had introduced millet seed by planting so little as a single
seed that fell from the wrappings of a mummy,* he had
offered a purse of gold to a native for a single grain;
but the Japanese only shook his head, declining the
proposition, and drew his ringer significantly across his
throat to indicate his probable fate if he were to become
party to such commerce.
On the arrival of the Japanese embassy in Washington,
to the doctor's delight, it was found that among the
presents sent by the picturesque Emperor of Japan to
the President of the United States was a hogshead of
rice. Alas ! the doctor's hopes were again dashed when
the case was opened, for the wily donors had carefully
sifted their gift, and, though minutely examined, there
was not in all the myriad grains a single kernel in which
the germinal vesicle was still intact !
The arrival of the browned Asiatics was made a gala
occasion in the capital. Half the town repaired to the
Barracks to witness the debarkation of the strange and
gorgeously apparelled voyagers from the gaily decorated
vessel. Their usually yellow skins, now, after a long
sea-trip, were burned to the colour of copper; and not
stranger to our eyes would have been the sight of Paul du
Chaillu's newly discovered gorillas, than were these
Orientals as they descended the flag-bedecked gang-
planks and passed out through a corridor formed of
eager people, crowding curiously to gaze at them. Some
* This story, though quite commonly repeated, has been rather
effectually disproved by scientists. It obtained currency for many
years, howevar. A. S.
ii2 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
of the Japanese had acquired a little English during the
journey to America, and, as friendly shouts of ' ' Welcome
to America" greeted them, they nodded cordially to the
people, shaking hands here and there as they passed
along, and saying, to our great amusement, 'How dei '
Dr. Morrow had brought a gift to me from the East, a
scarf of crpe, delicate as the blossom of the mountain
laurel, the texture being very similar to that of the
petals of that bloom, and, to do honour to the occasion,
I wore it conspicuously draped over my corsage. Ob-
serving this drapery, one of the strangers, his oily face
wreathed in smiles, his well-pomatumed top knot mean-
time giving out under the heat of a scorching sun a
peculiar and never-to-be-forgotten odour, advanced to-
ward me as our party called their welcome, and, pointing
to my beautiful trophy, said, 'Me lakee ! me lakee!'
Then, parting his silken robe over his breast, he pulled
out a bit of an undergarment (the character of which it
required no shrewdness to surmise) which proved identical
in weave with my lovely scarf! Holding the bit of
crepe out toward us, the Oriental smiled complacently,
as if in this discovery we had established a kind of pre-
liminary international entente cordiale !
This same pomatum upon which I have remarked
was a source of great chagrin to the proprietor of Willard's
Hotel, who, after the departure of his Oriental visitors,
found several coats of paint and a general repapering to
be necessary ere the pristine purity of atmosphere which
had characterised that hostelry could again be depended
upon not to offend the delicate olfactories of American
guests.
During the stay of this embassy, its members attracted
universal attention as they strolled about the streets or
drawing-rooms which opened for their entertainment.
Their garments were marvellously rich and massed with
elaborate ornamentation in glistening silks and gold
RELAXATIONS OF CONGRESSIONAL FOLK 113
thread. They carried innumerable paper handkerchiefs
tucked away somewhere in their capacious sleeves, the
chief purpose of these filmy things seeming to be the
removal of superfluous oil from the foreheads of their
yellow owners. A happy circumstance ; for, having once so
served, the little squares were dropped forthwith wherever
the Oriental happened to be standing, whether in street
or parlour, and the Asiatic dignitary passed on innocently,
ignorant alike of his social and hygienic shortcoming.
It was no uncommon thing during the sojourn of these
strangers at the capital, to see some distinguished
Senator or Cabinet Minister stoop at the sight of one of
these gauzy trifles (looking quite like the mouchoir of
some fastidious woman) and pick it up, only to throw it
from him in disgust a moment later. He was fortunate
when his error passed unseen by his confreres; for the
Japanese handkerchief joke went the round of the
capital, and the victim of such misplaced gallantry was
sure to be the laughing-stock of his fellows if caught in
the act.
The most popular member of this notable commission
was an Oriental who was nicknamed "Tommy." He
had scarce arrived when he capitulated to the charms of
the American lady; in fact, he became so devoted to
them that, it was said, he had no sooner returned to
Japan than he paid the price of his devotion by the
forfeit of his head in a basket !
CHAPTER VIII
THE BRILLIANT BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION
THE advent of Lord and Lady Napier was practically
coincident with the installation of Miss Harriet Lane
at the White House, and, in each instance, the entree of
Miss Lane and Lady Napier had its share in quickening
the pace at which society was so merrily going, and in
accentuating its allurements. Miss Lane's reign at the
White House was one of completest charm. Nature,
education and experience were combined in the President's
niece in such manner as eminently to qualify her to meet
the responsibilities that for four years were to be hers.
Miss Lane possessed great tact, and a perfect knowledge
of Mr. Buchanan's wishes. Her education had been
largely directed and her mind formed under his careful
guardianship ; she had presided for several years over her
uncle's household while Mr. Buchanan served as Minister
to England. The charms of young womanhood still
lingered about her, but to these was added an aplomb
rare in a woman of fifty, so that, during her residence
in it, White House functions rose to their highest degree
of elegance; to a standard, indeed, that has not since
been approached save during the occupancy of the
beautiful bride of President Cleveland.
Miss Lane's entrance into life at the American capital,
at a trying time, served to keep the surface of society in
Washington serene and smiling, though the fires of a
volcano raged in the under-political world, and the
vibrations of Congressional strife spread to the further-
most ends of the country the knowledge that the Govern-
114
MISS HARRIET LANE
Mistress of the White House, 1857-61
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 115
ment was tottering. The young Lady of the White
House came to her new honours with the prestige of
Queen Victoria's favour. In her conquest of statesmen,
and, it was added, even in feature, she was said to re-
semble the Queen in her younger days. Miss Lane was
a little above the medium height, and both in colour and
physique was of an English rather than an American
type -a characteristic which was also marked in the
President. The latter 's complexion was of the rosiest
and freshest, and his presence exceedingly fine, notwith-
standing a slight infirmity which caused him to hold
his head to one side, and gave him a quizzical expression
that was, however, pleasing rather than the contrary.
In figure, Miss Lane was full ; her complexion was clear
and brilliant. In her cheeks there was always a rich,
pretty colour, and her hair, a bright chestnut, had a
glow approaching gold upon it. She had a columnar,
full neck, upon which her head was set superbly. I
thought her not beautiful so much as handsome and
healthful and good to look upon. I told her once she
was like a poet's ideal of an English dairymaid, who fed
upon blush roses and the milk of her charges; but a
lifting of the head and a heightening of the pretty
colour in her cheeks told me my bucolic simile had
not pleased her.
Of the Napiers it may be said that no ministerial
representatives from a foreign power ever more com-
pletely won the hearts of Washingtonians than did that
delightful Scotch couple. In appearance, Lady Napier
was fair and distinctly a patrician. She was perhaps
thirty years of age when she began her two-years' residence
in the American capital. Her manner was unaffected
and simple ; her retinue small. During the Napiers' occu-
pancy, the British Embassy was conspicuous for its
complete absence of ostentation and its generous hos-
pitality. Their equipages were of the handsomest,
n6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
but in no instance showy, and this at a period when
Washington streets thronged with the conspicuous
vehicles affected by the foreign Legations. Indeed, at
that time the foreigner was as distinguished for his
elaborate carriages as was the Southerner for his blooded
horses.*
Lady Napier's avoidance of display extended to her
gowning, which was of the quietest, except when some
great public function demanded more elaborate prepara-
tion. On such occasions her laces heirlooms for centuries
were called into requisition, and coiffure and corsage
blazed with diamonds and emeralds. Her cozy at-homes
were remarkable for their informality and the ease
which seemed to emanate from the hostess and com-
municate itself to her guests. A quartette of handsome
boys comprised the Napier family, and often these
princely little fellows, clad in velvet costumes, assisted
their mother at her afternoons, competing with each
other for the privilege of passing refreshments. At such
times it was no infrequent thing to hear Lady Napier
compared with "Cornelia and her Jewels."
Lord Napier was especially fond of music, and I recall
an evening dinner given at this embassy to Miss Emily
Schaumberg, of Philadelphia, in which that lady's
singing roused the host to a high pitch of enthusiasm.
Miss Schaumberg was a great beauty, as well as a finished
singer, and was most admired in the capital, though she
stayed but a very short time there.
A ball or formal dinner at the British Embassy (and
* A notable vehicle of this sort was purchased in Philadelphia by
Mrs. Clay, at a cost of $1,600, and was carried to Alabama, where,
among the foliaged avenues of beautiful Huntsville, it attracted uni-
versal attention. It was a capacious and splendid equipage, lined
with amber satin, and was drawn by the high-bred horses, "Polk"
and "Dallas." From Mrs. Clay's possession this gorgeous landau
passed into that of Governor Reuben Chapman, and, in the course of
years, by various transfers, into the hands of a station hackman, of
colour ! A. S.
LADY NAPIER AND HER SONS
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 117
these were not infrequent) was always a memorable
event. One met there the talented and distinguished;
heard good music ; listened to the flow of wholesome wit ;
and enjoyed delectable repasts. Early in 1859 the
Napiers gave a large ball to the young Lords Cavendish
and Ashley, to which all the resident and visiting belles
were invited; and, I doubt not, both lords and ladies
were mutually delighted. Miss Corinne Acklin, who
was under my wing that season (she was a true beauty
and thoroughly enjoyed her belleship), was escorted to
supper by Lord Cavendish, and, indeed, had the lion's
share of the attentions of both of the visiting noblemen,
until our dear, ubiquitous Mrs. Crittenden appeared.
That good lady was arrayed, as usual, with remarkable
splendour and frankly decollete gown. She approached
Miss Acklin as the latter, glowing with her triumphs,
stood chatting vivaciously with her lordly admirers.
"Lady' Crittenden smilingly interrupted the trio by
whispering in the young lady's ear, though by no means
sotto voce: " Present me to Lord Ashley, my dear. Ashley
was my second husband's name, you know, and maybe
they were kin !'
"I thought her so silly," said the pouting beauty
afterward. "She must be almost sixty!" But Mrs.
Crittenden' s kindly inquiry was not an unnatural one,
for, as the rich widow Ashley, whose husband's family
connections in some branches were known to be foreign,
she had been renowned from Florida to Maine for years
before she became Mrs. Crittenden.
At the home of the Napiers one frequently met Mr.
Bayard, between whom and the English Ambassador
there existed a close intimacy. Mr. Bayard was the
most unobtrusive of men, modesty being his dominant
social characteristic. When I visited England in 1885,
I had a signal testimony to Lord Napier's long-continued
regard for the great Delaware statesman. During my
nS A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
stay in London, the former Minister constituted himself
cicerone to our party, and, upon one memorable afternoon,
he insisted upon drinking a toast with us.
" Oh, no 1 " I demurred. " Toasts are obsolete ! "
"Very well, then," Lord Napier declared. "If you
won't, I will. Here's to your President, Mr. Cleveland !
But," he continued with a suddenly added depth, "Were
it your Chevalier Bayard, I would drink it on my knee ! "
Upon my return to America I had the pleasure of
shouting to Mr. Bayard, then Secretary of State, a
recital of this great tribute. He had now grown very
deaf, but my words reached him at last, and he smiled
in a most happy way as he asked, almost shyly, but
with a warm glance in the eye, despite his effort to remain
composed, "Did Napier really say that?'
A feeling of universal regret spread over the capital
when it became known that the Napiers were to return
to England; and the admiration of the citizens for the
popular diplomat expressed itself in the getting-up of a
farewell ball, which, in point of size, was one of the most
prodigious entertainments ever given in Washington.
One group of that great assemblage is vividly before me.
In it the young James Gordon Bennett, whom I had seen
in earlier days at a fashionable water-cure (and whose
general naughtiness as a little boy defies description by
my feeble pen), danced vis-h-vis, a handsome, courtly
youth, with his mother and Daniel E. Sickles.
During the Pierce administration the old-fashioned
quadrilles and cotillions, with an occasional waltz number,
were danced to the exclusion of all other Terpsichorean
forms ; but in the term of his successor, the German was
introduced, when Miss Josephine Ward, of New York,
afterward Mrs. John R. Thomson, of New Jersey,
became prominent as a leader.
When I review those brilliant scenes in which passed
and smiled, and danced and chatted, the vast multitude
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 119
of those who called me " friend,"' the army of those now
numbered with the dead I am lost in wonder! My
memory seems a Herculaneum, in which, let but a spade
of thought be sunk, and some long-hidden treasure is
unearthed. I have referred to the citizens of Washington.
The term unrolls a scroll in which are listed men and
women renowned in those days as hostesses and enter-
tainers. They were a rich and exclusive, and, at the
same time, a numerous class, that gave body to the
social life of the Federal City. Conspicuous among these
were Mrs. A. S. Parker and Mrs. Ogle Tayloe. The
home of the former was especially the rendezvous of the
young. In the late fifties and sixties it was a palatial
residence, famous for its fine conservatories, its spacious
parlours, and glistening dancing floors. To-day, so
greatly has the city changed, that what is left of that once
luxurious home has been converted into small tenements
which are rented out for a trifle to the very poor. At
the marriage of Mrs. Parker's daughter, Mary E., in
1860, to Congressman J. E. Bouligny, of Louisiana,
crowds thronged in these now forgotten parlours. The
President himself was present to give the pretty bride
away, and half of Congress came to wish Godspeed to
their fellow-member.
The home of Mr. and Mrs. Ogle Tayloe was a museum
of things rare and beautiful, vying in this respect with
the Corcoran Mansion and the homes of the several mem-
bers of the Riggs family. One of its treasured mementos
was a cane that had been used by Napoleon Bonaparte.
Mrs. Tayloe belonged to a New York family ; the Tayloes
to Virginia. She was a woman of fine taste and broad
views, a very gracious hostess, who shrank from the
coarse or vulgar wherever she detected it. When
Washington became metamorphosed by the strangers
who poured into its precincts following the inauguration
of Mr. Lincoln in 1861, the Tayloe Mansion was shrouded,
120 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
its pictures were covered, and its chandeliers wound with
protective wrappings. Entertaining there ceased for
years. "Nor have I," said Mrs. Tayloe to me in 1866,
"crossed the threshold of the White House since Harriet
Lane went out."
At the Tayloe home I often exchanged a smile and a
greeting with Lilly Price, my hostess's niece, who, when
she reached womanhood, was distinguished first as Mrs.
Hamersley, and afterward as Lillian, Duchess of Marl-
borough. At that time she was a fairy-like little slip of
a schoolgirl, who, in the intervals between Fridays and
Mondays, was permitted to have a peep at the gay
gatherings in her aunt's home. Many years afterward,
being a passenger on an outgoing steamer, I learned that
Mrs. Hamersley, too, was on board; but before I could
make my presence known to her, as had been my inten-
tion, she had discovered me and came seeking her "old
friend, Mrs. Clay," and I found that there lingered in
the manner of the brilliant society leader, Mrs. Hamersley,
much of the same bright charm that had distinguished
the little Lilly Price as she smiled down at me from her
coign of vantage at the top of the stairway of the Tayloe
residence.
But the prince of entertainers, whether citizen or official,
who was also a prince among men, the father of unnum-
bered benefactions and patron of the arts, was dear Mr.
Corcoran. When my thoughts turn back to him they
invariably resolve themselves into
" And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest '
Throughout our long acquaintance Mr. Corcoran proved
himself to be what he wrote himself down, "one of the
dearest friends of my dear husband." He was already
a widower when, shortly after our arrival in Washington,
I met him; and, though many a well-known beauty
would have been willing to assume his distinguished
name, my own conviction is that Mr. Corcoran never
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 121
thought of marriage with any woman after he committed
to the grave the body of his well-beloved wife, Louise
Morris, daughter of the brave Commodore.
Mr. Corcoran was a tall and handsome man, even in
his old age. In his younger days his expression was the
most benignant I have ever seen, though in repose it was
tinged with a peculiar mournfulness. The banker's
weekly dinners were an institution in Washington life.
During each session he dined half of Congress, to say
nothing of the foreign representatives and the families of
his fellow-citizens.
Evening dances were also of frequent occurrence at the
Corcoran Mansion, the giving of which always seemed
to me proof of the host's large and great nature; for
Louise Corcoran, his daughter, afterward Mrs. Eustis,
was a delicate girl, who, owing to some weakness of
the heart, was debarred from taking part in the
pleasures of the dance. Nevertheless, Mr. Corcoran
opened his home to the young daughters of other men,
and took pleasure in the happiness he thus gave them.
The ' Greek Slave," now a principal object of interest
in the Corcoran Art Gallery, was then an ornament to
the banker's home, and stood in an alcove allotted to it,
protected by a gilded chain.
The hospitality of Mr. Corcoran 's home, which Senator
Clay and I often enjoyed, was a synonym for ''good
cheer' of the most generous and epicurean sort. I
remember an amusing meeting which my husband and
I had one evening with Secretary Cobb. It took place
on the Treasury pavement. Recognising us as we ap-
proached, the bland good humour which was habitual to
the Secretary deepened into a broad smile.
" Ah, Clay ! ' he said to my husband, pulling down his
vest with a look of completest satisfaction, "Been to
Corcoran's. Johannisberg and tarrepm, sir! I wish,"
and he gave his waistcoat another pull, glancing up
A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
significantly at the tall stone pile before us, "I wish the
Treasury were as full as I !"
Mr. Corcoran was famous for his Johannisberg, and I
recall a dinner at his home when, being escorted to the
table by the Danish Minister, who had somewhat the
reputation of a connoisseur, our host and my companion
immediately began a discussion on the merits of this
favourite wine, which the Minister declared was of prime
quality, and which, if I remember rightly, Mr. Corcoran
said was all made on the estate of the Prince de Metter-
nich. When the Minister announced his approval, our
host turned quietly to me and said, sotto voce, " I hoped
it was pure. I paid fifteen dollars for it ! '
I wish it might be said that all the lavish hospitality
of that incomparable gentleman had been appreciated
with never a record to the contrary to mar the pleasure
he gave ; but it must be confessed that the host at the
capital whose reputation for liberality extends so widely
as did Mr. Corcoran 's runs the risk of entertaining some
others than angels unaware. The receptions at the
Corcoran residence, as at the White House and other
famous homes, were occasionally, necessarily, somewhat
promiscuous. During the sessions of Congress the city
thronged with visitors, many of them constituents of
Senators and Congressmen, who came to Washington
expecting to receive, as they usually did receive, social
courtesies at the hands of their Representatives. Many
kindly hosts, aware of these continually arising emergen-
cies, gave latitude to Congressional folk in their invitations
sufficient to meet them.
At the Corcoran receptions, a feature of the decorations
was the elaborate festooning and grouping of growing
plants, which were distributed in profusion about the
banker's great parlours. Upon one occasion, in addition
to these natural flowers, there was displayed a handsome
epergne, in which was placed a most realistic bunch of
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 123
artificial blooms. These proved irresistibly tempting
to an unidentified woman visitor; for, in the course of
the afternoon, Mr. Corcoran, moving quietly among his
guests, saw the stranger take hold of a bunch of these
curious ornaments and twist it violently in an effort to
detach it from the rest. At this surprising sight Mr.
Corcoran stepped to the lady's side, and said with a
gentle dignity: 'I would not do that, Madam. Please
desist. The blossoms are not real. They are rare,
however, and have been brought from Europe only by
the exercise of the greatest care !'
" Well ! If they have ? What's that to you ? ' ' snapped
the lady defiantly.
" Nothing, Madam ! ' he responded, quietly. " Except
that I am Mr. Corcoran ! '
Fortunately, not all strangers who were so entertained
were of this unpleasant sort. Sometimes the amusement
the more provincial afforded quite out-balanced the
trouble their entertainment cost our resident repre-
sentatives. I remember an occasion on which I, acting
for my husband, was called upon to show a young woman
the sights of the capital. She was the daughter of an
important constituent. One morning, as I was about to
step into the calash of a friend who had called to take
me for a drive, a note was handed to me. It read:
"My dear Mrs. Clay: I hope you will recall my name
and, in your generosity of heart, will do me a favour.
My daughter is passing through Washington and will be
at the Hotel for one day," naming that very day !
'She is very unsophisticated and will be most grateful
for anything you can do toward showing her the sights
of the capital," etc., etc.
As I knew I might command the services of my escort
for the morning (he was a Mr. Parrish, recently from the
mines of Africa, and in Washington for the purpose of
securing our Government's aid in pressing certain of his
i2 4 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
claims against a foreign power), I proposed that we
proceed at once to the Hotel and take the young
woman with us on our drive. To this a kind consent
was given, and in a short time I had sent my card to the
young stranger. I found her a typical, somewhat
callow schoolgirl, over-dressed and self-conscious, who
answered every question in the most agitated manner,
and who volunteered nothing in the way of a remark
upon any subject whatsoever, though she assented
gaspingly to all my questions, and went with a nervous
alacrity to put on her hat when I invited her to ac-
company us upon our drive.
We began our tour by taking her directly to the
Capitol. We mounted to the dome to view the wonderful
plan of the Government City; thence to the House and
the Senate Chamber, and into such rooms of state as we
might enter; and on to the Government greenhouses,
with their horticultural wonders. We paused from time
to time in our walk to give the young lady an opportunity
to admire and to consider the rare things before her to
remark upon them, if she would ; but all our inviting en-
thusiasm was received in dull silence.
Failing to arouse her interest in the gardens, we next
directed our steps to the Smithsonian Institution, where
corridor after corridor was explored, in which were
specimens from the obscurest corners of the earth, mon-
sters of the deep, and tiny denizens of the air, purchased
at fabulous sums of money, but now spread freely before
the gaze of whomsoever might desire to look upon them.
The Smithsonian Institution, at that time still a novelty
even to Washingtonians, has ever been to me a marvellous
example of man's humanity to man. I hoped it would
so reveal itself to my whilom prot6g6e.
Alas for my hopes ! Her apathy seemed to increase.
We arrived presently at the Ornithological Department.
A multitude of specimens of the feathered tribes were
THE BUCHANAN ADMINISTRATION 125
here, together with their nests and eggs; still nothing
appeared to interest my guest or lessen what I was
rapidly beginning to regard as a case of hebetude, pure
and simple. I was perplexed ; Mr. Parrish, it was plain,
was bored when, arriving almost at the end of the cases,
to my relief the girl's attention seemed arrested. More,
she stood literally transfixed before the nest of the great
Auk, and uttered her first comment of the day:
"Lor' !" she said, in a tone of awestruck amazement,
"What a big egg!"
CHAPTER IX -
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT
t
EARLY in the season of 185 7-^5 8, our friend Mrs.
Senator Gwin announced her intention of giving a ball
which should eclipse every gathering of the kind that
had ever been seen in Washington. Just what its char-
acter was to be was not yet decided ; but, after numerous
conferences with her friends in which many and various
suggestions were weighed, the advocates for the fancy
ball prevailed over those in favour of a masquerade, to
which, indeed, Senator Gwin himself was averse, and
these carried the day.
Surely no hostess ever more happily realised her am-
bitions ! When the function was formally announced, all
Washington was agog. For the ensuing weeks men as
well as women were busy consulting costumers, ransack-
ing the private collections in the capital, and conning
precious volumes of coloured engravings in a zealous
search for original and accurate costuming. Only the
Senators who were to be present were exempt from this
anticipatory excitement, for Senator Gwin, declaring
that nothing was more dignified for members of this body
than their usual garb, refused to appear in an assumed
one, and so set the example for his colleagues.
As the time approached, expectation ran high. Those
who were to attend were busy rehearsing their characters
and urging the dressmakers and costumers to the perfect
completion of their tasks, while those who were debarred
deplored their misfortune. I recall a pathetic lament
from my friend Lieutenant Henry Myers, who was
126
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 127
obliged to leave on the United States ship Marion on
the fourth of April (the ball was to occur on the ninth), in
which he bemoaned the deprivations of a naval officer's
life, and especially his inability to attend the coming
entertainment.
When the evening of the ball arrived there was a
flutter in every boudoir in Washington, in which prepara-
tion for the great event was accelerated by the pleasurable
nervousness of maid and mistress. Mrs. Gwin's costume,
and those of other leading Washingtonians, it was known,
had been selected in New York, and rumours were rife on
the elegant surprises that were to be sprung upon the
eventful occasion.
With Senator Clay and me that winter were three
charming cousins, the Misses Comer, Hilliard and Withers.
They impersonated, respectively, a gypsy fortune-teller,
a Constantinople girl, and "Titania"; and, to begin at
the last (as a woman may do if she will), a wonderful
'Titania' the tiny Miss Withers was, robed in innume-
rable spangled tulle petticoats that floated as she
danced, her gauze wings quivering like those of a butter-
fly, and her unusually small feet glistening no less bril-
liantly with spangles.
'Miss Withers, yon tiny fairy," wrote Major de Havil-
land, who in his "Metrical Glance at the Fancy Ball"
immortalised the evening, "as 'Titania' caused many
a Midsummer Night's Dream." Miss Hilliard, whose
beauty was well set off in a costly and picturesque cos-
tume of the East, owed her triumph of the evening to
the kindness of Mrs. Joseph Holt, who had bought the
costume (which she generously placed at my cousin's
disposal) during a tour of the Orient. So attractive
was my cousin's charming array, and so correct in all
its details, that as she entered Mrs. Gwin's ballroom, a
party of Turkish onlookers, seeing the familiar garb,
broke into applause.
128 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Miss Comer, in a brilliant gown that was plentifully
covered with playing-cards, carried also a convenient
pack of the same, with which she told fortunes in a
mystifying manner, for I had coached her carefully in
all the secrets of the day. I must admit she proved a
clever pupil, for she used her knowledge well whenever
an opportunity presented, to the confusion of many
whose private weaknesses she most tormentingly exposed.
My chosen character was an unusual one, being none
other than that remarkable figure created by Mr. Shillaber,
Aunt Ruthy Partington. It was the one character
assumed during that memorable evening, by one of my
sex, in which age and personal attractions were sacrificed
ruthlessly for its more complete delineation.
I was not the only one anxious to impersonate the quaint
lady from Beanville, over whose grammatical faux pas
all America was amusing itself. Ben Perley Poore no
sooner heard of my selection of this character than he
begged me to yield to him, but I was not to be deterred,
having committed to heart the whole of Mrs. Partington's
homely wit. Moreover, I had already, the previous
summer, experimented with the character while at
Red Sweet Springs, where a fancy ball had been given
with much success, and I was resolved to repeat the
amusing experience at Mrs. Gwin's ball.
Finding me inexorable, Mr. Poore at last desisted and
chose another character, that of Major Jack Downing.
He made a dashing figure, too, and we an amusing pair,
as, at the "heel of the morning," we galoped wildly over
Mrs. Gwin's wonderfully waxed floors. The galop, I
may add in passing, was but just introduced in Washing-
ton, and its popularity was wonderful.
If I dwell on that evening with particular satisfaction,
the onus of such egotism must be laid at the door of my
flattering friends; for even now, when nearly twoscore
years and ten have passed, those who remain of that
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 129
merry assemblage of long ago recall it with a smile and
a tender recollection. ' I can see you now, in my mind's
eye," wrote General George Wallace Jones, in 1894;
"how you vexed and tortured dear old President
Buchanan at Doctor and Mrs. Gwin's famous fancy party !
You were that night the observed of all observers!'
And still more recently another, recalling the scene, said,
"The orchestra stopped, for the dancers lagged, laughing
convulsively at dear Aunt Ruthy!'
Nor would I seem to undervalue by omitting the
tribute in verse paid me by the musical Major de Havil-
land:
'Mark how the grace that gilds an honoured name,
Gives a strange zest to that loquacious dame
Whose ready tongue and easy blundering wit
Provoke fresh uproar at each happy hit !
Note how her humour into strange grimace
Tempts the smooth meekness of yon Quaker's face.*
But denser grows the crowd round Partington;
'T'were vain to try to name them one by one." f
It was not without some trepidation of spirit that I
surrendered myself into the hands of a professional
maker-up of theatrical folk and saw him lay in the
shadows and wrinkles necessary to the character, and
adjust my front-piece of grey hair into position ; and, as
my conception of the quaint Mrs. Partington was that
* A reference to Mrs. Emory, a notably attractive member of Wash-
ington society.
f Nevertheless, the chronicler named in rapid succession as among
Mrs. Clay's attendants, Lord Napier, Sir William Gore Ouseley, K.C.B.,
and many prominent figures in the capital. "Mrs. Senator Clay," he
added in prose, "with knitting in hand, snuff-box in pocket, and 'Ike
the Inevitable' by her side, acted out her difficult character so as to
win the unanimous verdict that her personation of the loquacious mal-
apropos dame was the leading feature of the evening's entertainment.
Go where she would through the spacious halls, a crowd of eager listen-
ers followed her footsteps, drinking in her instant repartees, which
were really superior in wit and appositeness, and, indeed, in the vein
of the famous dame's cacoethes, even to the original contribution of
Shillaber to the nonsensical literature of the day." A. S.
1 30 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
of a kindly soul, I counselled the attendant a Hungarian
attache of the local theatre to make good-natured
vertical wrinkles over my brow, and not horizontal ones,
which indicate the cynical and harsh character.
My disguise was soon so perfect that my friend Mrs.
L. Q. C. Lamar, who came in shortly after the ordeal of
making-up was over, utterly failed to recognise me in
the country woman before her. She looked about the
room with a slight reserve aroused by finding herself
thus in the presence of a stranger, and asked of Emily,
"Where is Mrs. Clay?" At this my cousins burst into
merry laughter, in which Mrs. Lamar joined when assured
of my identity.
Thus convinced of the success of my costume, I was
glad to comply with a request that came by messenger
from Miss Lane, for our party to go to the White House
on our way to Mrs. Gwin's, to show her our 'pretty
dresses," a point of etiquette intervening to prevent the
Lady of the White House from attending the great ball
of a private citizen. Forthwith we drove to the Executive
Mansion, where we were carried sans ceremonie to Miss
Lane's apartments. Here Mrs. Partington found herself
in the presence of her first audience. Miss Lane and
the President apparently were much amused at her
verdancy, and, after a few initiative malapropisms,
some pirouettes by "Titania' and our maid from the
Orient, done to the shuffling of our little fortune-teller's
cards, we departed, our zest stimulated, for the Gwin
residence.
My very first conquest as Mrs. Partington, as I recall
it now, was of Mrs. Representative Pendleton, whom I
met on the stairs. She was radiantly beautiful as the
"Star-Spangled Banner," symbolising the poem by
which her father, Francis Scott Key, immortalised him-
self. As we met, her face broke into a smile of delicious
surprise.
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 131
"How inimitable!" she cried. "Who is it? No!
you shan't pass till you tell me!' And when I laugh-
ingly informed her in Aunt Ruthy's own vernacular,
she exclaimed: 'What! Mrs. Clay? Why! there isn't
a vestige of my friend left !'
My costume was ingeniously devised. It consisted
of a plain black alpaca dress and black satin apron;
stockings as blue as a certain pair of indigos I have
previously described, and large, loose-fitting buskin
shoes. Over my soft grey front piece I wore a high-
crowned cap, which, finished with a prim ruff, set closely
around the face. On the top was a diminutive bow of
narrowest ribbon, while ties of similarly economical
width secured it under the chin. My disguise was further
completed by a pair of stone-cutter's glasses with nickel
rims, which entirely concealed my eyes. A white ker-
chief was drawn primly over my shoulders, and was
secured by a huge medallion pin, in which was encased
the likeness, as large as the palm of my hand, of "my
poor Paul."
On my arm I carried a reticule in which were various
herbs, elecampane and catnip, and other homely remedies,
and a handkerchief in brilliant colours on which was
printed with fearless and emphatic type the Declaration
of Independence. This bit of "stage property" was
used ostentatiously betimes, especially when Aunt Ruthy's
tears were called forth by some sad allusion to her lost
'Paul.' 1 In my apron pocket was an antique snuff-box
which had been presented to me, as I afterward told
Senator Seward, by the Governor of Rhode Island, "a
lover of the Kawnstitution, Sir."
But, that nothing might be lacking, behind me trotted
my boy "Ike," dear little "Jimmy" Sandidge (son of
the member from Louisiana) , aged ten, who for days, in
the secrecy of my parlour, I had drilled in the aid he was
to lend me. He was a wonderful little second, and the
i 3 2 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
fidelity to truth in his make-up was so amusing that I
came near to losing him at the very outset. His osten-
tatiously darned stockings and patched breeches, long
since outgrown, were a surprising sight in the great
parlours of our host, and Senator Gwin, seeing the little
urchin who v he thought, had strayed in from the street,
took him by the shoulder and was about to lead him out
when some one called to him, "Look out, Senator!
You'll be getting yourself into trouble ! That's Aunt
Ruthy's boy, Ike!"
Mrs. Partington was not the only Yankee character
among that throng of princes and queens, and dames
of high degree, for Mr. Eugene Baylor, of Louisiana,
impersonated a figure as amusing that of "Hezekiah
Swipes," of Vermont. He entered into his part with a
zest as great as my own, and kept " a-whittlin' and
a-whittlin' jes' as if he was ter hum!' For myself, I
enjoyed a peculiar exhilaration in the thought that,
despite my amusing dress, the belles of the capital
(and many were radiant beauties, too) gave way before
Aunt Ruthy and her nonsense. As I observed this my
zeal increased, and not even Senator Clay, who feared
my gay spirits would react and cause me to become
exhausted, could prevail upon me to yield a serious word
or one out of my character throughout the festal night.
If I paid for it, as I did, by several days' retirement, I
did not regret it, since the evening itself went off so
happily.
Mrs. Gwin, as the Queen of Louis Quatorze, a regal
lady, stood receiving her guests with President Buchanan
beside her as Aunt Ruthy entered, knitting industriously,
but stopping ever and anon to pick up a stitch which the
glory of her surroundings caused her to drop. Approach-
ing my hostess and her companion, I first made my
greetings to Mrs. Gwin, with comments on her "invite,"
and wondered, looking up at the windows, if she "had
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 133
enough venerators to take off the execrations of that
large assemblage"; but, when she presented Mrs. Part-
ington to the President, 'Lor!' exclaimed that lady,
"Air you ralely 'Old Buck'? I've often heern tell o'
Old Buck up in Beanville, but I don't see no horns !'
"No, Madam," gravely responded the President,
assuming for the nonce the cynic, 'I'm not a married
man!"
It was at this memorable function that Lord Napier
(who appeared in the character of Mr. Hammond, the
first British Minister to the United States) paid his great
tribute to Mrs. Pendleton. Her appearance on that
occasion was lovely. She was robed in a white satin
gown made dancing length, over which were rare lace
flounces. A golden eagle with wings outstretched covered
her corsage, and from her left shoulder floated a long tri-
colour sash on which, in silver letters, were the words
"E Pluribus Unum." A crown of thirteen flashing
stars was set upon her well-poised head, and a more
charming interpretation in dress of the national emblem
could scarcely have been devised.
Ah ! but that was a remarkable throng ! My memory,
as I recall that night, seems like a long chain, of which,
if I strike but a single link, the entire length rattles!
Beautiful Th6rese Chalfant Pugh as "Night" what a
vision she was, and what a companion picture Mrs.
Douglas, who, as " Aurora," was radiant in the pale
tints of the morning ! There were mimic Marchionesses,
and Kings of England and France and Prussia; White
Ladies of Avenel and Dukes of Buckingham, Maids of
Athens and Saragossa, gypsies and fairies, milkmaids,
and even a buxom barmaid ; Antipholus himself and the
Priestess Norma, Pierrots and Follies, peasants and
Highland chiefs moving in heterogeneous fashion in the
great ballrooms.
Barton Key, as an English hunter, clad in white satin
i 3 4 . "' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
breeks, cherry-velvet jacket, and jaunty cap, with lemon-
coloured high-top boots, and a silver bugle (upon which
he blew from time to time) hung across his breast, was a
conspicuous figure in that splendid happy assemblage,
and Mile, de Montillon was a picture in the Polish character
costume in which her mother had appeared when she
danced in a Polonaise before the Empress at the Tuilleries.
Sir William Gore Ouseley, the "Knight of the Mys-
terious Mission," attracted general attention in his
character of Knight Commander of the Bath. The
Baroness de Staeckl and Miss Cass were models of elegance
as French Court beauties, and Mrs. Jefferson Davis as
Mme. de Stae'l dealt in caustic repartee as became her
part, delivered now in French and again in broken
English, to the annihilation of all who had the temerity
to cross swords with her.
Among the guests "our furrin relations" were numer-
ously represented, and I remember well the burst of
laughter which greeted Mrs. Partington when she asked
Lady Napier, with a confidential and sympathetic air,
"whether the Queen had got safely over her last en-
croachment." Incidentally she added some good advice
on the bringing up of children, illustrating its efficacy by
pointing to Ike, whom she " was teaching religiously both
the lethargy and the cataplasm !"
My memories of Mrs. Gwin's ball would be incomplete
did I not mention two or more of Aunt Ruthy's escapades
during the evening. The rumour of my intended im-
personation had aroused in the breast of a certain Balti-
morean youth the determination to disturb, "to break
up Mrs. Clay's composure.' 1 I heard of the young
man's intention through some friend early in the evening,
and my mother-wit, keyed as it was to a pitch of alertness,
promptly aided me to the overthrow of the venturesome
hero. He came garbed as a newsboy, and, nature having
provided him with lusty lungs, he made amusing an-
MRS. JEFFERSON DAVIS
of Mississippi
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 135
nouncements as to the attractions of his wares, at the
most unexpected moments. Under his arm he carried a
bundle of papers which he hawked about in a most
professional manner. At an unfortunate moment he
walked hurriedly by as if on his rounds, and stopping
beside me he called out confidently, " Baltimore Sun !
Have a 'Sun, 1 Madam ?'
"Tut, tut! Man!' said Mrs. Partington, horrified.
" How dare you ask such a question of a virtuous female
widow woman?' Then bursting into sobs and covering
her eyes with the broad text of the 'Declaration of
Independence," she cried, "What would my poor Paul
think of that?' To the hilarious laughter of those who
had gathered about us, the routed hero retreated hastily,
and, for the remainder of the evening, restrained by a
wholesome caution, he gave Aunt Ruthy a wide berth.
Such kind greetings as came to this unsophisticated
visitor to the ball! "You're the sweetest-looking old
thing!" exclaimed "Lushe" Lamar before he had pene-
trated my disguise. "I'd just like to buss you!'
I had an amusing recontre with Senator Seward that
evening. That this pronounced Northerner had made
numerous efforts in the past to meet me I was well aware ;
but my Southern sentiments were wholly disapproving
of him, and I had resisted even my kinder-hearted
husband's plea, and had steadily refused to permit him
to be introduced to me. " Not even to save the Nation
could I be induced to eat his bread, to drink his wine, to
enter his domicile, to speak to him !" I once impetuously
declared, when the question came up in private of at-
tending some function which the Northern Senator was
projecting.
At Mrs. Gwin's ball, however, I noticed Mr. Seward
hovering in my neighbourhood, and I was not surprised
when he, "who could scrape any angle to attain an end,"
as my cousin Miss Comer said so aptly, finding none
i 3 6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
brave enough to present him, took advantage of my
temporary merging into Mr. Shillaber's character, and
presented himself to "Mrs. Partington." He was very
courteous, if a little uncertain of his welcome, as he
approached me, and said, "Aunt Ruthy, can't I, too,
have the pleasure of welcoming you to the Federal City ?
May I have a pinch of snuff with you ? ' It was here that
Mrs. Partington reminded him that the donor of her
snuff-box "loved the Kawnstitewtion. " I gave him the
snuff and with it a number of Partingtonian shots about
his opinions concerning "Slave Oligawky," which were
fearless even if "funny," as the Senator seemed to find
them, and I passed on. This was my first and only meet-
ing with Mr. Seward.*
I was so exhilarated at the success of my r61e that I
had scarce seen our cousins during the evening (I am
sure they thought me an ideal chaperone), though I
caught an occasional glimpse of the gauzy-winged
"Titania," and once I saw the equally tiny Miss Comer
go whirling down the room in a wild galop with the tall
Lieutenant Scarlett, of Her Majesty's Guards, who was
conspicuous in a uniform as rubescent as his patronymic.
And I recall seeing an amusing little bit of human nature
in connection with our hostess, which showed how even
the giving of this superb entertainment could not disturb
Mrs. Gwin's perfect oversight of her household.
The "wee sma' hours' had come, and I had just
finished complimenting my hostess on her "cold hash
and cider" when the butler stepped up to her and, in
discreet pantomime, announced that the wine had given
out.
* While this playful exchange of ideas was going on, Senator Clay
stood near his Northern confrere, with whom his relations were always
courteous and kindly. At Mrs. Clay's parting sally, Senator Seward
turned to the lady's husband and remarked, "Clay, she's superb!"
"Yes," replied Senator Clay; "when she married me America lost
its Siddons!" A. S.
A CELEBRATED SOCIAL EVENT 137
Then she, Queen for the nonce of the most magnificent
of the Bourbons, did step aside and, lifting her stiff moire
skirt and its costly train of cherry satin (quilled with
white, it was), did extract from some secret pocket the
key to the wine cellar, and pass it right royally to her
menial. This functionary shortly afterward returned
and rendered it again to her, when, by the same deft
manipulation of her rich petticoats, the implement was
replaced in its repository, and the Queen once more
emerged to look upon her merrymakers.
For years Mrs. Gwin's fancy ball has remained one of
the most brilliant episodes in the annals of ante-bellum
days in the capital. For weeks after its occurrence the
local photograph and daguerreotype galleries were
thronged with patrons who wished to be portrayed in
the costumes they had worn upon the great occasion;
and a few days after the ball, supposing I would be
among that number, Mr. Shillaber sent me a request for
my likeness, adding that he 'would immortalise me.' 1
But, flushed with my own success, and grown daring by
reason of it, I replied that, being hors de combat, I could
not respond as he wished. I thanked him for his proffer,
however, and reminded him that the public had antici-
pated him, and that by their verdict I had already
immortalised myself !
CHAPTER X
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY FROM THE FEDERAL
CITY
IN the winter of '59 and '60 it became obvious to
everyone that gaiety at the capital was waning. Aside
from public receptions, now become palpably perfunctory,
only an occasional wedding served to give social zest
to the rapidly sobering Congressional circles. Ordinary
1 'at-homes' were slighted. Women went daily to the
Senate gallery to listen to the angry debates on the
floor below. When belles met they no longer discussed
furbelows and flounces, but talked of forts and fusillades.
The weddings of my cousin, Miss Hilliard, in 1859, and
of Miss Parker, in 1860, already described, were the
most notable matrimonial events of those closing days of
Washington's splendour.
To Miss Milliard's marriage to Mr. Hamilton Glent-
worth, of New York, which occurred at mid-day at old
St. John's, and to the reception that followed, came many
of the Senatorial body and dignitaries of the capital. A
procession of carriages drawn by white horses accompanied
the bridal party to the church, where the celebrated
Bishop Doane, of New Jersey, performed the ceremony.
The bride's gown and that of one of the bridesmaids were
''gophered," this being the first appearance of the new
French style of trimming in the capital. One of the
bridesmaids, I remember, was gowned in pink crepe,
which was looped back with coral, then a most fashionable
garniture; the costume of another was of embroidered
tulle caught up with bunches of grapes ; and each of the
138
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 139
accompanying ushers such were the fashions of the
day wore inner vests of satin, embroidered in colour
to match the gown of the bridesmaid alloted to his
charge.
Notable artists appeared in the capital, among them
Charlotte Cushman, and there were stately, not to say
stiff and formal, dinners at the British Embassy, now
presided over by Lord Lyons. This Minister's arrival
was looked upon as a great event. Much gossip had
preceded it, and all the world was agog to know if it
were true that feminine-kind was debarred from his
menage. It was said that his personally chartered
vessel had conveyed to our shores not only the personages
comprising his household, but also his domestics and
skilful gardeners, and even the growing plants for his
conservatory. It was whispered that when his Lordship
entertained ladies his dinner-service was to be of solid
gold; that when gentlemen were his guests they were to
dine from the costliest of silver plate. Moreover, the
gossips at once set about predicting that the newcomer
would capitulate to the charms of some American woman,
and speculation was already rife as to who would be the
probable bride.
Lord Lyons began his American career by entertaining
at dinner the Diplomatic Corps, and afterward the
officials of our country, in the established order of pre-
cedence, the Supreme Court, the Cabinet, and Senate
circles leading, according to custom. His Lordship's
invitations being sent out alphabetically, Senator Clay
and I received a foreign and formidable card to the
first Senatorial dinner given by the newly arrived diplo-
mat. My husband's appearance at this function, I
remember, was particularly distinguished. He was clad
in conventional black, and wore with it a cream-coloured
vest of brocaded velvet ; yet, notwithstanding my wifely
pride in him, we had what almost amounted to a dis-
1 40 ' -* A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
agreement on our way to the famous feast. We drove to
Lord Lyons 's domicile with Senator and Mrs. Crittenden,
and my perturbation furnished them with much amuse-
ment. For some reason or for lack of one I was obsessed
by a suspicion that the new Minister, probably being
unaware of the state of feeling which continually mani-
fested itself between Northern and Southern people in
the capital, might assign to me, as my escort to table,
some pronounced Republican.
"What would you do in that event?' asked Senator
Clay.
"Do?" I asked, hotly and promptly. "I would
refuse to accept him ! '
My husband's voice was grave as he said, :< I hope
there will be no need ! '
Arriving at the Embassy, I soon discovered that, as
had been rumoured, the maid ordinarily at hand to assist
women guests had been replaced by a fair young English
serving-man, who took charge of my wraps, and knelt to
remove my overshoes with all the deftness of a practised
femme de chambre. These preliminaries over, I rejoined
my husband in the corridor, and together we proceeded
to our host, and, having greeted him, turned aside to
speak to other friends.
Presently Senator Brown, Mr. Davis's confrere from
Mississippi, made his way to me. Senator Brown was
one of the brightest men in Congress. As he approached,
my misgivings vanished and I smiled as I said, " Ah !
you are to be my gallant this evening ! '
" Not so," replied he. " I'm to go in with Mme. ,
and shall be compelled to smell 'camphired' cleaned
gloves for hours ! '
He left my side. Presently he was replaced by Mr.
Eames, ex-Minister to Venezuela. Again I conjectured
him to be the man who was destined to escort me; but,
after the exchange of a few words, he, too, excused
LORD LYONS
British Ambassador to the United States
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 141
himself, and I saw him take his place at the side of his
rightful partner. In this way several others came and
went, and still I stood alone. I wondered what it all
meant, and gave a despairing look at my husband, who, I
knew, was rapidly becoming as perturbed as was I.
Presently the massive doors slid apart, and a voice pro-
claimed, " Dinner, my Lord!' Now my consternation
gave way to overwhelming surprise and confusion, for
our host, glancing inquiringly around the circle, stepped
to my side, and, bowing profoundly, offered his arm with,
"I have the honour, Madam!' Once at the table, I
quickly regained my composure, assisted, perhaps, to
this desirable state, by a feeling of triumph as I caught
from across the table the amused glance of my erstwhile
companion, Mrs. Crittenden.
Lord Lyons 's manner was so unconstrained and easy
that I soon became emboldened to the point of suggesting
to him the possibility of some lovely American consenting
to become 'Lyonised." His Lordship's prompt re-
joinder and quizzical look quite abashed me, and brought
me swiftly to the conclusion that I would best let this old
lion alone; for he said, "Ah, Madam! do you remember
what Uncle Toby said to his nephew when he informed
him of his intended marriage?' Then, without waiting
for my assent, he added, " Alas ! alas ! quoth my Uncle
Toby, you will never sleep slantindicularly in your bed
more !'
I had an adventure at a ball in 1859, which, though
unimportant in itself, turns a pleasing side-light upon one
of the more courteous of our political opponents. A dance
had been announced, the music had begun, and the dancers
had already taken their places, when my partner was called
aside suddenly. Something occurred to detain him longer
than he had expected, and the time for us to lead having
arrived, there was a call for the missing gallant, who
was nowhere to be seen. I looked about helplessly,
A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
wondering what I was to do, when Anson Burlingame,
who was standing near, seeing my dilemma, stepped
promptly forward, and, taking my hand in most courtly
manner, he said, "Pardon me, Madam!" and led me,
bewildered, through the first steps of the dance !
Lost in amazement at his courtesy, I had no time to
demur, and, when we returned to my place, the delinquent
had reappeared. Bowing politely, Mr. Burlingame with-
drew. The circumstance caused quite a ripple among
those who witnessed it. Those who knew me best were
amused at my docility in allowing myself thus to be led
through the dance by a rank Abolitionist; but many
were the comments made upon "Mr. Burlingame 's
audacity in daring to speak to Mrs. Clement Clay !"
Such were the scenes, both grave and gay, that pre-
ceded what was surely the saddest day of my life
January 21, 1861 when, after years of augmenting
dissension between the Sections, I saw my husband take
his portfolio under his arm and leave the United States
Senate Chamber in company with other no less earnest
Southern Senators. For weeks the pretense of amity
between parties had ceased, and social formalities no
longer concealed the gaping chasm that divided them.
When the members of each met, save for a glare of de-
fiance or contempt, each ignored the other, or, if they
spoke, it was by way of a taunt or a challenge. Every
sentence uttered in Senate or House was full of hot
feeling born of many wrongs and long-sustained struggle.
For weeks, men would not leave their seats by day or
by night, lest they might lose their votes on the vital
questions of the times. At the elbows of Senators, drowsy
with long vigils, pages stood, ready to waken them at
the calling of the roll.
Not a Southern woman but felt, with her husband, the
stress of that session, the sting of the wrongs the Southern
faction of that great body was struggling to right. For
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 143
forty years the North and the South had striven for the
balance of power, and the admission of each new State
was become the subject of bitter contention. There
was, on the part of the North, a palpable envy of the
hold the South had retained so long upon the Federal City,
whether in politics or society, and the resolution to quell
us, by physical force, was everywhere obvious. The
face of the city was lowering, and some of the North
agreed with us of the South that a nation's suicide
was about to be precipitated.
Senator Clay, than whom the South has borne no more
self-sacrificing son, nor the Nation a truer patriot, was
an ill man as that " winter of national agony and shame "
(vide the Northern witness, Judge Hoar) progressed.
The incertitude of President Buchanan was alarming;
but the courage of our people to enter upon what they
knew must be a defense of everything they held dear in
State and family institution rose higher and higher to
meet each advancing danger. The seizure by South
Carolina of United States forts that lay, a menace,
within her very doorway, acted like a spur upon the
courage of the South.
' We have been hard at work all day," wrote a defender
of our cause from Morris Island, January 17, 1861,
'helping to make, with our own hands, a battery, and
moving into place some of the biggest guns you ever saw,
and all immediately under the guns of old Anderson.*
He fired a shell down the Bay this afternoon to let us
know what he could do. But he had a little idea what
we can do from his observation of our firing the other
morning,! at the 'Star of the West,' all of which he saw,
and he thought we had ruined the ship, as Lieutenant
Hall represented in the city that morning. . . . We
learn to-day that in Washington they are trying to
* Major Anderson, in command at Fort Sumter.
f January 9, 1861.
i 4 4 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
procrastinate. That does not stop our most earnest
preparation, for we are going to work all night to receive
from the steamboat three more enormous guns and
place them ready to batter down Fort Sumter, and we
can do it. We hope the other points are as forward in
their preparations as we are. If so, we can smoke him
out in a week. We are nearest to him, and he may fire
on us to-night, but if he were to kill everybody in the
State, and only one woman was left, and she should
bear a child, that child would be a secessionist. Our
women are even more spirited than we are, though, bless
the dear creatures, I have not seen one in a long time.' 1
Yet, despite these buoyant preparations for defense,
there was a lingering sentiment among us that caused
us to deplore the necessity that urged our men to arms.
My husband was exceedingly depressed at the futility of
the Peace Commission, for he foresaw that the impending
conflict would be bloody and ruinous. One incident that
followed the dissolution of that body impressed itself
ineradicably upon my mind. Just after its close ex-
President Tyler came to our home. He was now an old
man and very attenuated. He was completely undone
at the failure of the Peace men, and tears trickled down
his cheeks as he said to Senator Clay, with indescribable
sadness, ; 'Clay, the end has come !'
In those days men eyed each other warily and spoke
guardedly, save to the most tried and proved friend.
One evening early in 1861, Commander Semmes, U. S. N.,
called upon us, and happened to arrive just as another
naval officer, whose name I have now forgotten, was
announced. The surprise that spread over the faces of
our visitors when they beheld each other was great, but
Senator Clay's and my own was greater, as hour after
hour was consumed in obvious constraint. Neither of
the officers appeared to be at ease, yet for hours neither
seemed to desire to relieve the situation by taking his
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 145
departure. Midnight had arrived ere our now forgotten
guest rose and bade us "good night.' 1 Then Commander
Semmes hastened to unbosom himself. He had re-
solved to out-sit the other gentleman if it took all night.
"As my Senator, Mr. Clay," he said, "I want to report
to you my decision on an important matter. I have
resolved to hand in my resignation to the United States
Government, and tender my services to that of the
Confederate States. I don't know what the intention
of my brother officer is, but I could take no risk with him,"
he added. Many a scene as secret, as grave, and as
"treasonable," took place in those last lowering weeks.
I have often mused upon the impression held by the
younger generation of those who were adverse to the
South, viz.: that she "was prepared for the war' : into
which we were precipitated practically by the admission
of Kansas ; that our men, with treasonable foresight, had
armed themselves individually and collectively for
resistance to our guileless and unsuspicious oppressors.
Had this been true, the result of that terrible civil strife
would surely have been two nations where now we have
one. To the last, alas ! too few of our people realised
that war was inevitable. Even our provisional Secretary
of War for the Confederate States,* early in '61, publicly
prophesied that, should fighting actually begin, it would
be over in three months ! It must be apparent to
thinkers that such gay dreamers do not form deep or
"deadly plots."
Personally I knew of but one man whose ferocity led him
to collect and secrete weapons of warfare. He was
Edmund Ruffin, of Virginia, with whom I entered into
collusion. For months my parlour was made an arsenal
for the storing of a dozen lengthy spears. They were
handsome weapons, made, I suspect, for some decorative
purpose, but I never knew their origin nor learned of
* General L. Pope Walker.
146 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
i
their destination. On them were engraved these revolu-
tionary words:
"Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck the flower of
safety.'- ;
As Senator Clay's unequivocal position as a Southern
man was everywhere understood, our parlours were fre-
quently the gathering-place of statesmen from our own
section and such others as were friendly to our people and
believed in our right to defend the principles we had main-
tained since the administration of the first President of
the United States, Among the last mentioned were
Senators Pendleton and Pugh, and the ardent member
of Congress from Ohio, Mr. Vallandigham. Often the
"dread arms" deposited by Mr. Ruffin proved a subject
of conjecture and mirth, with which closed some weightier
conversation. As the day drew near, however, for the
agreed upon withdrawal of our Senators, the tension
under which all laboured made jests impossible, and
keyed every heart to the utmost solemnity. Monday,
January 2ist, was the day privately agreed upon
by a number of Senators for their public declaration of
secession; but, as an example of the uncertainty which
hobbled our men, until within a day or two of the ap-
pointed time several still awaited the instructions from
their States by which their final act must be governed.
Early on Sunday morning, January 2oth, my husband
received from a distinguished colleague the following
letter :
" WASHINGTON, Saturday night, January 19, 1861.
"My Dear Clay: By telegraph I am informed that the
copy of the ordinance of secession of my State was sent by
mail to-day, one to each of two branches of representation,
and that my immediate presence at is required. It thus
appears that was expected to present the paper in the
Senate and some one of the members to do so in the House.
All have gone save me, I, alone, and I am called away. We
have piped and they would not dance, and now the devil may care.
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 147
" I am grieved to hear that you are sick, the more so that
I cannot go to you. God grant your attack may be slight."
And now the morning dawned of what all knew would
be a day of awful import. I accompanied my husband
to the Senate, and everywhere the greeting or gaze
of absorbed, unrecognising men and women was serious
and full of trouble. The galleries of the Senate, which
hold, it is estimated, one thousand people, were packed
densely, principally with women, who, trembling with
excitement, awaited the denouement of the day. As,
one by one, Senators David Yulee, Stephen K. Mallory,
Clement C. Clay, Benjamin Fitzpatrick, and Jefferson
Davis rose, the emotion of their brother Senators and of
us in the galleries increased ; and, when I heard the voice
of my husband, steady and clear, notwithstanding his ill-
ness, declare in that Council Chamber ;
1 Mr. President, I rise to announce that the people of
Alabama have adopted an ordinance whereby they with-
draw from the Union, formed under a compact styled the
United States, resume the powers delegated to it, and
assume their separate station as a sovereign and inde-
pendent people," it seemed as if the blood within me con-
gealed.
As each Senator, speaking for his State, concluded his
solemn renunciation of allegiance to the United States,
women grew hysterical and waved their handkerchiefs,
encouraging them with cries of sympathy and admira-
tion. Men wept and embraced each other mournfully.
At times the murmurs among the onlookers grew so deep
that the Sergeant-at-Arms was ordered to clear the gal-
leries; and, as each speaker took up his portfolio and
gravely left the Senate Chamber, sympathetic shouts
rang from the assemblage above. Scarcely a member of
that Senatorial body but was pale with the terrible sig-
nificance of the hour. There was everywhere a feeling
of suspense, as if, visibly, the pillars of the temple were
i 4 8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
being withdrawn and the great Government structure
was tottering ; nor was there a patriot on either side who
did not deplore and whiten before the evil that brooded
so low over the nation,
When Senator Clay concluded his speech, many of his
colleagues, among them several from Republican ranks,
came forward to shake hands with him. For months his
illness had been a theme of public regret and apprehension
among our friends. "A painful rumour reached me this
morning," wrote Joseph Holt to me late in 1860, "in rela-
tion to the health of your excellent husband. . . .
While I hope sincerely this is an exaggeration, yet the
apprehensions awakened are so distressing, that I cannot
resist the impulse of my heart to write you in the trust
that your reply will relieve me from all anxiety. It is my
earnest prayer that a life adorned by so many graces may
be long spared to yourself, so worthy of its devotion, and
to our country, whose councils so need its genius and
patriotism. . . . Believe me most sincerely your
friend, Joseph Holt."
In fact, the news of Senator Clay's physical sufferings
had been telegraphed far and near, and, merged with the
fear for our country, there was, in my own heart, great
anxiety and sadness for him. Our mail was full of
inquiries as to his welfare, many from kindly strangers
and even from States that were bitterly inimical to our
cause. One of these came from the far North, from one
who signed himself, "A plain New Hampshire minister,
Henry E. Parker." Nor can I refrain from quoting a
portion of his letter, which bears the never-to-be-forgotten
date of January 2ist, 1861. He wrote as follows:
' I am utterly appalled at this projected dissolution of
our Government. To lose, to throw away our place and
name among the nations of the earth, seems not merely
like the madness of suicide, but the very blackness of anni-
hilation. If this thing shall be accomplished, it will be, to
CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR.
United States Senator, 1853-61
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 1 49
my view, the crime of the nineteenth century ; the parti-
tion of Poland will be nothing in comparison. . . .
" Born and educated as we are at the North, sensible
men at the South cannot wonder at the views we entertain,
nor do sensible men at the North think it strange that,
born and educated as the Southerner is, he should feel
very differently from the Northerner in some things ; but
why should not all these difficulties sink before our com-
mon love for our common country?"
Why, indeed! Yet the cry of 'disunion' 1 had been
heard for forty years* and still our Southern men had for-
borne, until the party belligerents, whose encroachments
had now, at last, become unbearable, had begun to look
upon our protests as it were a mere cry of 'wolf." Of
those crucial times, and of that dramatic scene in the
United States Senate, no Southern pen has written in per-
manent words; and such Northern historians as Messrs.
Nicolay and Hay elide, as if their purpose were to obscure,
the deliberate and public withdrawal of those representa-
tives, our martyrs to their convictions, their institutions
and their children's heritages; and would so bury them
under the sweeping charges of "conspiracy" and " trea-
son >; that the casual reader of the future is not likely to
realise with what candour to their opponents, with what
dignity to themselves, out of what loyalty to their States,
and yet again with what grief for the nation and sacrifice
of life-time associations, the various seceding Senators
went out at last from that august body !
For months the struggle of decades had been swiftly
approximating to its bloody culmination. Our physical
prosperity, no less than the social security we enjoyed,
had caused us to become objects of envy to the rough ele-
* " Talk of disunion, threats of disunion, accusations of intentions of
disunion lie scattered plentifully through the political literature of the
country from the very formation of the Government," say Messrs.
Nicolay and Hay. See vol. II, page 296, of "Abraham Lincoln." Also,
"Benton's Thirty Years' View." Vol. II, page 786.
i5o A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
ments in the new settlements, especially of the North-
west.* So inimical was the North to us that though the
South was the treasury of the nation; though she had
contributed from her territory the very land upon which
the Federal City was built; though her sons ranked
among the most brilliant of whom the young Republic
could boast it was impossible for the South to get an
appropriation of even a few hundred thousand dollars, to
provide for the building of a lighthouse on that most
dangerous portion of the Atlantic coast, the shore of
North Carolina!
An era of discovery and expansion preceded the out-
break of the war. By means of costly embassies to the
Eastern countries, new avenues of commerce had been
opened. The acquisition of Cuba and of the Mexican
States became an ambition on the part of Mr. Buchanan,
who was anxious to repeat during his Administration the
successes of his predecessors, Presidents Fillmore and
Pierce. So long ago as '55, the question of the purchase
of the island of St. Thomas from the Danish Government
was a subject that called for earnest diplomacy on the
part of Mr. Raasloff, the Danish Minister; and the gold
fever which made Northern adventurers mad carried
many to rifle the distant Pacific coast of its treasures. By
this time the cotton gin had demonstrated its great worth,
and the greed of acquisition saw in our cotton fields a new
source of envy, for we had no need to dig or to delve we
shook our cotton plants and golden dollars dropped from
them. Had the gathering of riches been our object in
life, men of the South had it in their power to have rivalled
the wealth of the fabled Midas ; but, as was early observed
by a statesman who never was partisan, the " Southern
statesmen went for the honours and the Northern for the
benefits." In consequence, wrote Mr. Benton (1839),
* This fact is emphasised by Messrs. Nicolay and Hay. See vol. I,
page 142, "Abraham Lincoln,"
EXODUS OF SOUTHERN SOCIETY 1 5 1
' the North has become rich upon the benefits of the Gov-
ernment; the South has grown lean upon its honours."
From the hour of this exodus of Senators from the
official body, all Washington seemed to change. Imagina-
tion can scarcely conjure up an atmosphere at once so
ominous and so sad. Each step preparatory to our
departure was a pang. Carriages and messengers dashed
through the streets excitedly. Farewells were to be
spoken, and many, we knew, would be final. Vehicles
lumbered on their way to wharf or station filled with the
baggage of departing Senators and Members. The brows
of hotel-keepers darkened with misgivings, for the disap-
pearance from the Federal City of the families of Con-
gressional representatives from the fifteen slave-holding
States made a terrible thinning out of its population;
and, in the strange persons of the politicians, already
beginning to press into the capital, there was little indi-
cation that these might prove satisfactory substitutes for
us who were withdrawing.
'How shall I commence my letter to you?" wrote the
wife of Colonel Philip Phillips to me a month or two after
we had left Washington. "What can I tell you, but of
despair, of broken hearts, of ruined fortunes, the sobs of
women, and sighs of men ! . . . I am still in this
horrible city . . . but, distracted as I am at the idea
of being forced to remain, we feel the hard necessity of
keeping quiet. . . . For days I saw nothing but
despairing women leaving [Washington] suddenly, their
husbands having resigned and sacrificed their all for their
beloved States. You would not know this God-forsaken
city, our beautiful capital, with all its artistic wealth,
desecrated, disgraced with Lincoln's low soldiery. The
respectable part [of the soldiers] view it also in the same
spirit, for one of the Seventh Regiment told me that never
in his life had he seen such ruin going on as is now enacted
in the halls of our once honoured Capitol ! I cannot but
152 " A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
think that the presentiment that the South would wish
to keep Washington must have induced this desecration
of all that should have been respected by the mob in
power. . . . The Gwins are the only ones left of our
intimates, and Mrs. G is packed up ready to leave.
Poor thing! her eyes are never without tears. ,,/- . .
There are 30,000 troops here. Think of it ! They go
about the avenue insulting women and taking property
without paying for it. . . . Such are the men waged
to subjugate us of the South. . . . We hear con-
stantly from Montgomery. Everything betokens a deep,
abiding faith in the cause.
"I was told that those giant intellects, the Blairs,
who are acting under the idea of being second Jacksons,
wishing to get a good officer to do some of their dirty
work (destroying public property), wished Colonel Lee
sent for. * Why, he has resigned ! ' ' Then tell Magruder ! '
' He has resigned, too. ' ' General Joe Johnston, then ! '
1 He, too, has gone out ! ' ' Smith Lee ? ' Ditto !
" ' Good God F said Blair. ' Have all our good officers
left us?'
' I hear these Blairs are at the bottom of all this war
policy. Old Blair's country place was threatened, and
his family, including the fanatical Mrs. Lee, had to fly
into the city. This lady was the one who said to me
that ' she wished the North to be deluged with the blood
of the South ere Lincoln should yield one iota ! '
'Do not believe all you hear about the Northern
sympathy for Lincoln. The Democrats still feel for the
South. If Congress does not denounce Lincoln for his
unlawful and unconstitutional proceedings, I shall begin
to think we have no country !'
CHAPTER XI
WAR Is PROCLAIMED
UPON leaving the Federal capital we proceeded to the
home of Senator Clay's cousin, Doctor Thomas Withers,
at Petersburg, Va. My husband's health, already feeble,
had suffered greatly from the months of strife which
culminated in the scenes through which we had just
passed, and we had scarcely arrived in Petersburg when
a serious collapse occurred. Mr. Clay now became so
weakened that fears were reiterated by all who saw him
that he could not survive. I was urged to take him at
once to Minnesota, the attending physicians all agreeing
that this was the one experiment in which lay a chance
for prolonging his life. In those days the air of that far
western State was supposed to have a phenomenally
curative effect upon the victims of asthma, from which
for years Mr. Clay had suffered an almost " daily death.' 1
In the present acute attack, his body sick and his heart
sore from our late ordeals, fearful of the danger of delay,
I at once put into execution plans for the northward
trip in which lay even a slender hope for his recovery.
No one who had witnessed my husband's dignified with-
drawal from the Senate, who had heard his firm utterance
of what was at once a challenge to arms and a warning
that Alabama would defend her decision to stand alone,
would have recognised the invalid now struggling for his
life against the dread disease. He was extremely emaci-
ated.
'When I last saw you," wrote John T. Morgan * from
* Now United States Senator from Alabama.
153
154 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
camp, some months later, "your health scarcely justified
the hope that you would become one of the first Senators
in a new Confederacy. I was grieved that when we came
to meet the great struggle in Alabama you were not per-
mitted to aid us further than by your counsels and
recorded opinions. I rejoice that you are again our
representative in a Senate where the South is not to be
defended against foes within her own bosom, but to reap
the advantage of the wisdom and experience of her own
statesmen.' 3
My brother-in-law, Hugh Lawson Clay, afterward
Colonel on the staff of our friend, General E. Kirby
Smith, hurried, therefore, from Alabama to accompany
us upon the slow journey made necessary by Mr. Clay's
extreme weakness.
In due time we arrived at the International Hotel,
St. Paul. Here, though our stay was short, we had an
unpleasant experience, a single one, due to sectional
feeling. Having safely bestowed Mr. Clay in his room,
our brother made his way to the drug-store, which, as we
entered, we had observed was below the hotel, to purchase
a necessary restorative for my husband. While waiting
there for the wrapping of the medicine, two young men
entering met, and one exclaimed to the other :
" Here's a good chance ! Clay, the fire-eating Senator
from Alabama, is in this house. Let's mob him !'
My brother, both indignant and surprised, was also
fearful lest they should carry out their threat and thereby
work incalculable evil to our invalid. He turned promptly
and addressed them:
" Mr. Clay, of whom you speak/ 1 he said, " is my
brother, and, it may be, a hopeless invalid. He is here
seeking health. You can molest him only through me ! '
But now a second surprise met him, for the two youths
began a very duet of apology, declaring they "had only
been joking." They meant no offense, they said, and,
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 155
in fact, themselves were democrats. Feeling, they con-
tinued, was at high tide, and it was the fashion of the
times to denounce the South. Upon this frank acknowl-
edgment the trio shook hands and parted, nor did
Senator Clay and I hear of the altercation until the next
day, when it was repeated to us by a kind friend, Mr.
George Culver, at whose home, in St. Paul, we lingered for
several weeks. Here the wonderful climate appreciably
restored the invalid, and Mr. Clay was soon able to move
about, and added to his weight almost visibly.
In the meantime, the news of the gathering together
of armies, both North and South, came more and more
frequently. Everywhere around us preparations were
making for conflict. The news from the seceding States
was inspiring. My husband's impatience to return
to Alabama increased daily, stimulated, as it was, by
the ardour of our many correspondents from Montgomery
and Huntsville, civil and military.
'I was improving continuously and rapidly," he wrote
to our friend E. D. Tracy, 'when Lincoln's proclama-
tion and that of the Governor of Minnesota reached me,
and I think I should have been entirely restored to health
in a month or two had I remained there with an easy
conscience and a quiet mind. But after those bulletins,
the demonstrations against the 'Rebels' were so offen-
sive as to become intolerable. So we left on the 22d
[April], much to the regret of the few real friends we found
or made. Many, with exceeding frankness, expressed
their deep sorrow at our departure, since I was improv-
ing so rapidly; but, while appreciating their solicitude
for me, I told them I preferred dying in my own country
to living among her enemies."
Shortly after the breaking up of the ice in Lake Minne-
tonka, we bade farewell to the good Samaritans at St.
Paul and took passage on the Grey Eagle. She was a
celebrated boat of that day, and annually took the prize
i 5 6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
for being the first to cut through the frozen waters. I
have never forgotten the wonders and beauties of that
trip, beginning in the still partially ice-locked lake, and
progressing gradually until the emerald glories of late
April met us in the South ! It was on this journey that we
caught the first real echoes of the booming guns of Fort
Sumter. The passengers on board the Grey Eagle dis-
cussed the outlook with gravity. To a friendly lady,
whose sympathies were aroused on behalf of my husband,
still pale and obviously an invalid, I remember express-
ing my sorrows and fears. I think I wept, for it was a
time to start the tears; but her reply checked my com-
plainings.
"Ah, Mrs. Clay!' she said, "think how my heart is
riven ! I was born in New Orleans and live in New York.
One of my sons is in the Seventh New York Regiment,
and another in the New Orleans Zouaves !'
At Cairo, already a great centre of military activity
for the Federals, we caught a first gleam of the muskets
of United States soldiery. A company was drawn up in
line on the river bank, for what purpose we did not
know, but we heard a rumour that it had to do with the
presence on the boat of the Southern Senator Clay, and
I remember I was requested by an officer of the Grey
Eagle to place in my trunk my husband's fine Maynard
rifle, which had been much admired by our fellow pas-
sengers, and which once had been shot off during the
trip, to show its wonderful carrying power. Needless
to say, the possibly offending firearm was promptly put
away. After a short colloquy between the captain
of the vessel and the military officer, who appeared to
catechise him, the Grey Eagle again swung out on the
broad, muddy river, and turned her nose toward Memphis.
Now, as we proceeded down the important water-course,
at many a point were multiplying evidences that the
fratricidal war had begun.
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 157
Memphis, at which we soon arrived, and which was
destined within a year to be taken and held by our
enemy, was now beautiful with blossoms. Spirea and
bridal wreaths whitened the bushes, and roses every-
where shaking their fragrance to the breezes made the
world appear to smile. My heart was rilled with gratitude
and joy to find myself once more among the witchery
and wonders of my ; 'ain countree"; where again I might
hear the delightful mockery of that 'Yorick of the
Glade," whose bubbling melody is only to be heard in
the South land ! It was a wonderful home-coming for
our invalid, too eager by much to assume his share of
the responsibilities that now rested upon the shoulders
of our men of the South. A period of complete physical
weakness followed our arrival in Mr. Clay's native city,
a busy political and military centre in those early days.
We spent our summer in "Cosy Cot," our mountain
home, set upon the crest of Monte Sano, which over-
looks the town of Huntsville below, distant about three
miles; nor, save in the making of comparatively short
trips, did we again leave this vicinity until Mr. Clay,
his health improved, was called to take his seat in the
Senate of the new Confederate Government, at Richmond,
late in the following autumn. In the meantime Senator
Clay had declined the office of Secretary of War in Mr.
Davis's Cabinet, privately proffered, believing his phys-
ical condition to be such as to render his assumption of
the duties of that department an impossibility. In his
stead he had urged the appointment of Leroy Pope
Walker, our fellow-townsman and long-time friend,
though often a legal and political opponent of my husband.
Now, at the time of our return, Secretary Walker was
at the side of our Executive head, deep in the problems
of the military control of our forces. Communications
between Huntsville and Montgomery, where the pro-
visional Government temporarily was established, were
158 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
frequent. A special session of Congress was sitting, and
every one identified with our newly formed Legislature
at the little capital was alert and eager in perfecting our
plans for defense. We were given a side glimpse of our
President's personal activity in the following letter
received a few days after our return to Alabama:
"MONTGOMERY, Alabama, May 10, 1861.
". . . Mr. Davis seems just now only conscious of
things left undone, and to ignore the much which has been
achieved. Consequently, his time seems all taken up with
the Cabinet, planning (I presume) future operations. . . .
Sometimes the Cabinet depart surreptitiously, one at a time,
and Mr. Davis, while making things as plain as did the
preacher the virtues of the baptismal, finds his demonstra-
tions made to one weak, Weary man, who has no vim to
contend. To make a long story short, he overworks himself
and all the rest of mankind, but is so far quite well, though
not fleshily inclined.
" There is a good deal of talk here of his going to Richmond
as commander of the forces. I hope it may be done, for to
him military command is a perfect system of hygiene. . . .
There have been some here who thought, with a view to the
sanitary condition, that the Government had better be moved
to Richmond, and also that it would strengthen the weak-
fleshed but willing-spirited border States. . . . This is
a very pretty place, and, were not the climate as warm as
Is the temperament of the people, it would be pleasant; but
nearly all my patriotism oozes out, not unlike Bob Acres'
courage, at the pores, and I have come to the conclusion that
Roman matrons performed their patriotism and such like
duties in the winter. I wish your health would suffice for you
to come and see the Congress. They are the finest-looking set
of men I have ever seen collected together grave, quiet and
thoughtful-looking men, with an air of refinement which
makes my mind's picture gallery a gratifying pendant to
Hamlin, Durkee, Doolittle, Chandler, etc. . . .
"The market is forlorn, but then we give our best and a
warm welcome. If you are able to come and make us a visit,
we will have the concordances of Washington and Mont-
gomery. . . . Mrs. Mallory is in town on a short visit,
Mrs. Fitzpatrick and the Governor, Mrs. Memminger, Consti*
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 159
tution Brown and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Toombs (the latter
is the only person who has a house). I could gossip on ad
infinitum.
In Huntsville a feeling of diligence in preparation was
everywhere evident. Our historic little town was not
only in the direct line of travel between larger cities, and
therefore a natural stopping place for travellers ; but, by
reason of the many legal and political lights residing
there, and because of its being the county seat of one
of the most affluent counties in northern Alabama, was,
and is, a town of general interest throughout the State.
Almost in an unbroken line, the United States Senators
of northern Alabama have been citizens of my husband's
native town.
Situate among the low hills that separate the higher
points of the Cumberland range, Huntsville smiles up at
the sky from a rare amphitheatre, hollowed in the cedar-
covered mountains. It is in the heart of one of the most
fertile portions of the Tennessee Valley. Within an
hour's swift ride, the Tennessee flood rolls on its romantic
way, and as near in another direction is the forked
Flint River, every bend along its leafy edges a place of
beauty. Up hill and down dale, ride wherever one will,
may be seen the hazy tops of mountains, disappearing in
the blue ether, and intervening valleys yellow with corn
or white with cotton, or green with the just risen grain.
In the summer the sweetness of magnolia and jasmine, of
honeysuckle and mimosa, scents the shady avenues
along which are seen, beyond gardens and magnolia
trees, the commodious town houses of the prosperous
planters. Among these affluent surroundings a high
public spirit had been nourished. Here the first State
Legislature of Alabama was convened and that body
met which formed the State Constitution. The simple
structure in which those early statesmen gathered
(being, in general, representatives from the families of
160 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Virginia and the Carolinas) stood yet intact in the early
part of 1903. The first newspaper printed in Alabama,
yclept the Madison Gazette, was published in Huntsville,
and Green Academy (taking its name from the rich
sward that surrounded it), a renowned institution of
learning, was long a famous feature of Twickenham
Town, by which name Huntsville was once known.
In the early days of the township's existence, a hot
contest continued for years to wage between the followers
of two of its richest settlers as to the future appellation of
the pretty place. The friends of Colonel Pope, who had
contributed from the very centre of his plantation the
square upon which was built the County Court House, for a
time overbore the opposing parties and named the town in
honour of the birthplace of the immortal poet ; but, though
this choice was ratified by legislative act, the adherents of
the pioneer, John Hunt, refused to yield their wishes.
Mr. Hunt had discovered the site of the town while still
the valley was part of the Territory of Mississippi. Lured
by the deer he was stalking, he had come upon the big
spring, gushing with limpid waters. Here he pitched
his tent, and, gathering others about him, he fostered
the building of the town which, until the contest that
arose with the aristocratic Colonel Pope, was known
as Huntsville. For two years, until the original name
was restored by a second act of Legislature, the little
city was known as "Twickingham Town," and to many
of its old families this name remains so dear that among
themselves it still continues to be affectionately applied.
Half the youth of Alabama in that early day delved
in the classics under the guidance of the studious pro-
fessors of Green Academy. It was situated in a large plot
of ground which commanded a view of the mountain.
Its site was given to the town by Judge William Smith
(the warm friend of Andrew Jackson) on the condition
that it should be used only for a building for educational
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 161
purposes forever. This distinguished judge was, I
think, the only man until Roscoe Conkling to refuse a
seat on the Supreme Court Bench of the United States.*
The charms and fascinations and general winsomeness
of the girls of the lovely vale, even in that early period,
in a measure may be imagined from the references to
them in the following letter, written to Clement C. Clay,
Jr., by this time entered at the State University at
Tuscaloosa :
'FEBRUARY 2, 1833.
"My Dear Clement: Richard Peete, Jere Clemens, Richard
Perkins, Withers Clay, John E. Mooref and myself are in a
class reading Horace and Graeca Majora. Clio is nearly
broken up, and I fear it will never be revived, as the members
do nothing but walk with the girls, nor do they appear to
think of anything else. The girls in this town are the most
jealous little vixens that ever breathed. I would advise you
as a friend (for I have gone through the fiery ordeal, and
should know something of the character of woman) to keep
a respectful distance from the fair ones; for, if you mingle
with them at all, you will be persuaded to mingle with them
more and more. How much I would give if they would
never harass me more!"
The roll of Huntsville's prominent men includes a
peculiarly large number of names that have been potent
in State and National capitals, in civil and in military
life. Scarcely a stone in its picturesque "God's Acre'
but bears a name familiar to the Southern ear. From
under the low hill on which the columned Court House
and historic National Bank building stand, the Big
Spring gushes, which has had its part in swelling the city's
* Judge Smith was the grandfather of Mrs. Meredith Calhoun, who,
with her husband, played a brilliant part in Paris society when Eugenie's
triumphs were at their height. A. S.
f John E. Moore became celebrated on the bench: He declined the
office of territorial judge, offered him by President Pierce, but was
serving as judge in a military court when he died, in 1864. He was a
brother of Colonel Sydenham Moore, who fell at the battle of Seven
Pines. A. S.
162 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
fame. Where its source lies none can say, though
myths are plenty that tell of subterranean caves through
which it passes, and which gleam with stalactite glories.
Trickling freely from the sides of the mountain beyond
are numerous medicinal springs, and silver streams
thread their way among the valleys ; but nowhere within
the Tennessee region exists a flow that at all may
be compared with Huntsville's " Big Spring." If Hygeia
still exercises her functions, her modern home is surely
here. The flow of clear limestone water as it issues from
the rocks is wonderfully full and seemingly boundless.
Since the founding of the town the spring has supplied
all the needs of the residents, and that of armies camped
about it. So late as 1898 its splendid daily yield of
twenty-four million gallons influenced the present Govern-
ment to locate in and about the pretty city, while
awaiting the development of the Cuban War, an army
of twenty thousand men.
In the sixties the spring was already famous. From
time immemorial the pool below it had served the same
purpose for the negroes about as did the River Jordan
for the earlier Christians, and a baptism at the Big
Spring, both impressive and ludicrous, was a sight never
to be forgotten. The negroes came down the hill,
marching with solemn steps to weird strains of their own
composing, until they reached the edge of the stream
that forms below the spring. Here the eager candidates
for immersion were led into the water, when, doused for
a moment, they would come up again shrieking shrilly
a fervent Hallelujah ! As a rule, two companions were
stationed near to seize the person of the baptised
one as it rose, lest in a paroxysm of religious fervour he
should harm himself or others. As the baptisms, always
numerous, continued, the ardour of the crowd of partici-
pants and onlookers was sure to augment, until a mani-
acal mingling of voices followed, that verged toward
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 163
pandemonium. The ceremony was as strange and blood-
curdling as any rite that might be imagined in the interior
of the Dark Continent.
Once, upon the occasion of a visit of two New York
friends, one candidate for baptism, a black man, a
veritable Goliath, broke loose from those who tried to
hold him and ran up the hill in his ecstasy, bellowing
like a wounded buffalo. The sounds were enough to
excite unmixed horror in the unaccustomed listener, but
the appearance of the enthusiast to me was more comical
than terrifying; for, being in his stockings, and these
conspicuous by reason of their enormous holes, his heels,
revealed at every step, appeared as they flashed up the
acclivity like the spots on a bull-bat's wings. When
this sable son of Anak took the field, the spectators
scattering right and left, my friends turned toward me as
if panic-stricken. They paused but a brief moment, then,
; * standing not upon the order of their going," they, too,
fled from the possible charge of the half -crazed enthusiast.
It was no uncommon thing at such baptisms for the
candidates to suffer from an attack of "Jerks," a kind of
spasm which resulted from their excited imaginations.
I have seen the strength of four stout men tested to its
utmost to hold down one seemingly delicate negress, who,
fired by the 'glory in her soul," was now become its
victim, jerking and screaming in a manner altogether
horrible to witness.
Above the spring and about the picturesque Square
and Court House, in the spring and early summer of '61,
the gay-hearted youth of Madison County, thronging to
the county seat, met in companies to drill and prepare
themselves for service in the war now upon us. Already,
by the early part of June, Alabama had "contributed
to the Confederacy about 20,000 muskets and rifles,"
though she retained of these, "for her own immediate
protection and defense, only four thousand ! I hope/'
164 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
wrote Governor A. B. Moore, in sending this information
to Mr. Clay, "that volunteer companies throughout the
State will put the rifles and double-barrelled shot-guns in
order, and drill them until called into actual service."
The youths and men of Madison County needed small
urging. They were heart and soul for the conflict that
at last must be waged to preserve the homes of their
fathers, the heritages that were to be theirs, and their
right to independent government. These were the
incentives of our soldiers, allied to each other, regiment
by regiment, by blood and long association. There
was no need for alien hirelings to swell our ranks. The
questions at issue were vital, and every Southern man
who could bear arms sprang eagerly to assume them.
Upon our arrival in Huntsville we found the city
alive with preparations for defense, our mail heavy
with reports from every quarter of the South, of friends
and kinsmen who had entered the army, and many
exhilarated by the battles already won. An idea may
be gathered of the confluent interests that bound together
our Southern army, by a mention, as an example, by no
means unique, of the ramifications of the two families
represented by Senator Clay and myself. My husband's
uncle, General Withers, was already in command at
Mobile; his brother, Hugh Lawson Clay, was in Lynch-
burg, recruiting; his cousin, Eli S. Shorter, was enrolled as
Colonel in the C. S. A., besides whom there were enlisted
numerous cousins of the Withers, Comer, and Clayton
families. Thirty-nine cousins of my own, bearing the
name of Williams, were in the field at one time, and
innumerable Arlingtons, Drakes and Boddies, Hilliards,
Tunstalls and Battles served the beloved cause in various
capacities in civil and military life.
These conditions knit neighbourhoods as well as
regiments very closely together, and largely go to furnish
an explanation of our long struggle against the numerically
L. Q. C. LAMAR
1862
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 165
superior armies of our invaders. Our victories in those
early days were great, though the blood spilled to gain
them was precious; but the sound of mourning was
stilled before the greater need for encouragement to the
living. "Beauregard and Johnston have given the
fanatics something to meditate upon," wrote a cousin
in July of '61. "A despatch says that our loss was
three thousand, theirs seven thousand. Steady Beaure-
gard and brave Johnston ! We owe them our gratitude ! '
Yes ! we owed them gratitude and we gave it to them /
and to every man in the ranks. The women at home
knitted and sewed, sacrificed and prayed, and wept, too,
especially the aged, as they packed away the socks and
underwear and such comforts for the young men in the
field as might be pressed into a soldier's knapsack. " I
met Mr. Lamar's mother," wrote my sister from Macon,
late in May, ;< and spoke to her of her son's having gone
to Montgomery. She had not heard of it before and
burst into tears ! This is her fourth and last son gone
to the war!'
From Huntsville had gone out the gallant E. D. Tracy,
who, now at Harper's Ferry, wrote back most thrilling
accounts of military proceedings in that important
section of our Confederate States :
'I continue entirely well," began a letter dated from
Camp, near Harper's Ferry, June 8, 1861 : "And, while I
perfectly agree with, since conversing with, General Smith,
in regard to our situation, am in good spirits. I trust I
am ready to die when my hour comes, as becomes a
Christian soldier and gentleman; until that hour, I am
proof against shell and shot. If the enemy attacks us
* we'll memorise another Golgotha ' and achieve a victory,
or martyrdom. Our men believe the post to be im-
pregnable and are anxious for fight; if they were better
informed, I have no idea that their courage would be
in the least abated.
166 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
" From the arrival of troops during the last few days,
I conclude that it is the purpose of Government to hold
Harper's Ferry. At one time I think that point was
undecided, and am glad to believe that it is now settled
as stated. The moral effect of an evacuation of a place
believed to be a Gibraltar would be terribly disastrous
to our cause; it would encourage our enemies, depress
our troops, and disappoint the expectation of the world.
Better that we perish in making a gallant defense than
that such consequences should be risked."
My sister, Mrs. Hugh Lawson Clay, who had joined her
husband in Lynchburg, wrote buoyantly, yet gravely,
from that troubled centre: 'I wrote you a long, long
letter last Saturday," begins one epistle from her, "but
Mr. Clay would not let me send it, because, he said, I
told too much. He was afraid it might be read by other
eyes than yours. ... I look hourly to hear the
result of an awful battle. I cannot but fear, for we
cannot hope to gain such victories often as the one at
Bethel Church. . . . Here we hear everything, for
there are persons passing all the time to and from Win-
chester and Manassas Junction. So many men from
this place are stationed there that mothers and sisters
manage to hear every day. Mr. Tracy wrote in his last
that he fully expected to be in a big battle. His men
were eager for the fight, and he would be sure to write
as to the result, if it did not result in a termination of
his life's candle !'
As the time drew near for the opening of Congress in
Richmond, Mr. Clay's health, spurred to a better state
by an eager patriotism, eager to express itself in the
forum if debarred from the field, became appreciably
restored, and preparations were begun for an absence
of a few months from Huntsville. Anxious as everyone
was throughout the South, and feeling the strain even of
victory, now flowing toward us and again ebbing to our
MRS. PHILIP PHILLIPS
of Washington, D. C.
WAR IS PROCLAIMED 167
enemies, my husband and I had few misgivings concerning
the safety of the home we were leaving. A hundred
greater dangers surrounded Richmond (as it was thought) ,
that lay so near to the Federal lines and was the prize
above all others which we looked to see grappled for.
Yet our field lay there, and, in anticipation, it seemed
a pleasant and an active one, for already it was peopled
with throngs of our former friends.
'I almost imagined myself in Washington," wrote
Mrs. Philip Phillips, now returning from the Federal
capital, where for months she had been a prisoner.
: There are so many dear, old friends [in Richmond]
Mrs. Mallory, Mrs. Joe Johnston, and others awaited
us at the Spottswood Hotel. I spent an evening with
Mrs. Davis, who received me with great feeling. . .
We have a terrible struggle before us. The resources of
Lincoln's army are great, and a defensive war will prove
our greatest safeguard, but, it is presumption in speaking
thus; only, having come so recently from the seat of
war, my ideas, founded upon practical knowledge of
what is going on at the North, may derive some value.
I brought on from Washington, sewed in my corsets, a
programme of the war sent to me by a Federal officer,
many of whom are disaffected. The capitalists of the
North demand a decisive blow, else they will not back
the Government.'*
CHAPTER XII
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL
RICHMOND, as seen from the hill, with the James
River flowing by, its broad, level streets, full foliaged
trees, and spacious homes, is a beautiful city. Rich in
historic association, never did it appear more attractive
to Southern eyes than when, arriving in the late autumn
of '6 1, we found our Confederate Government established
there, and the air full of activity. To accommodate the
influx of Congressional and military folk, the houses of
the patriotic residents were thrown open, until the
capacity of every residence, hotel and lodging-house was
tested to the fullest. By the time Senator Clay and I
arrived, there was scarcely an extra bed to be had in
the city, and though everywhere it was apparent that an
unsettled feeling existed, there was nothing either inde-
terminate or volatile in the zeal with which the dense
community was fired. As the new-comers, for the
greater part, represented families which a season before
had been conspicuous in Washington, society was in the
most buoyant of spirits. Our courage was high, for
our army had won glorious battles against remarkable
odds, and, though gallant men had fallen, as occasion
demanded them, new heroes sprang to meet it.
For a few months we revelled in canvas-backs and
green-backs, undisturbed by fore warnings of coming
draw-backs. To furnish the tables of Richmond nearly
all the ducks in Chesapeake Bay fell victims. We
feasted on oysters and terrapin of the finest, and un-
measured hospitality was the order of the day on every
168
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL 169
side. Never had I looked upon so great an activity,
whether military, political, or social. I had demurred
when, as we were about to start for the capital, my
maid packed an evening dress or two.
"We are going to war, Emily," I said; "we shall have
no need for velvet or jewels. We are going to nurse the
sick; not to dress and dance. " But Emily's ardour on
my behalf led her to rebel.
' There's bound to be somethin' goin' on, Miss ' Ginie,'
she declared, "an' I ain't goin' to let my Mistis be out-
shined by Mis' an' dem other ladies ! ' And, de-
spite my protests, the gowns were duly packed. There
were many occasions afterward when I blessed the
thoughtfulness of my little gingerbread-tinted maid;
for there were heroes to dine and to cheer in Richmond,
both civil and military, and sombre garments are a sorry
garb in which to greet or brighten the thoughts of men
tired with the strain of building or fighting for a govern-
ment.
A sororal spirit actuated our women, and while our
greatest entertainment missed some of the mere display
which had marked the social events in the Federal City,
they were happier gatherings, for we were a people united
in interest and in heart. Some of the brightest memories
I carry of that first session are of informal evenings
where neighbours gathered sans ceremonie. I recall one
such spent at the home of the Mallorys, the occasion
being a dinner given to Brigadier General John H.
Morgan, who did the Confederacy such gallant service,
and was rewarded while in Richmond by the hand of one
of its prettiest daughters, Miss Reedy, who had been
a favourite in Washington society. A daughter of
Mr. Reedy, M.C., from Tennessee, she was the first girl
of her day in Washington to wear a curl upon her fore-
head, which coquettish item of coiffure was soon imitated
by a hundred others.
170 A BELLE OP THE FIFTIES
The family of Mr. Mallory was a model one, every
member seeming to have his or her share in rounding out
the general attractiveness. An informal meal taken
with that family was an experience long to be remembered,
for the little children took each his turn in asking the
blessing, which was never omitted, and which was
especially impressive in those days, in which the shadows
of growing privations soon grew to be recognised if not
openly discussed or admitted. Our Secretary of the
Navy, Mr. Mallory, was the merriest of hosts, with a
wit as sudden and as brilliant as sheet-lightning, and
a power of summing up, when he chose to exert it, both
events and people, in the most amusing manner. A
picture remains clearly in my mind of the evening devoted
to General Morgan. Ruby Mallory, then about thirteen
years of age, recited for us Holmes 's "The Punch-bowl,"
while our host, in hearty enjoyment of the verses,
"Stirred the posset with his ladle,"
to the rhythm of his little daughter's speech.
During our first winter in Richmond my husband and
I made our home with Mrs. Du Val, near to the Exchange
Hotel, a terrifically over-crowded hostelry at all Con-
federate times, and within a short walk of the Seddon
home, now the Executive Mansion. It was a com-
modious and stately structure, in which our President,
now domiciled, lived with an admirable disdain of display.
Statesmen passing through the halls on their way to the
discussion of weighty things were likely to hear the
ringing laughter of the care-free and happy Davis children
issuing from somewhere above stairs or the gardens.
The circle at Mrs. Du Val's, our headquarters, as it came
and went for three eventful years, comprised some of our
former Washington mess-mates, and others newly called
into public service. Among the favourites was General
J. E. B. Stuart, a rollicking fellow, who loved music, and
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL 171
himself could sing a most pleasing ballad. He was
wont to dash up to the gate on his horse, his plumes
waving, and he appearing to our hopeful eyes a veritable
Murat. He was a gallant soldier, what might be termed
delightful company, and one of the most daring cavalry
officers our service boasted. Twice, with comparatively
but a handful of men, he circled McClellan's big, un-
wieldly force as it lay massed, for months at a time,
contemplating the possibility of closing in upon our
capital. It may be said that upon his return to Rich-
mond after his first brilliant feat, General Stuart was
the idol of the hour. When the exigencies of the
service brought him again and again to the capital,
he entered heartily into its social relaxations. Two
years passed. He was conspicuous one night in charades,
and the next they brought him in, dying from a ghastly
wound received upon the battle-field.
I have said we were in gay spirits during that first
session of the Confederate Congress; but this condition
was resolved upon rather than the spontaneous expression
of our real mood, though hope was strong and we were
armed with a conviction of right upon our side, and with
the assurance of the courage of our soldiers, which filled
us with a fine feminine jscjDrn^of the mere might of our
assailants. ~6tnr editors, filled with patriotism and alert,
kept us informed of the stirring events of the field and of
the great victories which, until the loss of Fort Donelson
and the fall of Nashville, so often stood to our credit.
Scarcely a triumph, nevertheless, in which was not borne
down some friend who was dear to us, so that all news
of victory gained might be matched with the story of
fearful loss. However, such was our loyalty to the
cause, that the stimulus of our victories overbore the
sorrow for our losses, sustaining our courage on every
side. Before that first session of Congress adjourned,
we had buried an army of brave men, among them Generals
172 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Zollicoffer and Albert Sidney Johnston. Our coast was
closed by the blockading fleets of the Federal Govern-
ment. We had lost New Orleans, and the Tennessee
Valley was slipping from us. Huntsville, which lay
directly in the path of the invading army, itself threat-
ened, was now become a hospital for the wounded from
abandoned Nashville. By the early spring the news
from our family was ominous of deeper disaster to our
beloved town.
'The public stores have been sent on from Nashville,"
wrote mother, early in March of '62, from Huntsville,
;< and from four to ten thousand men are said to be
here or expected. . . . Yesterday the excitement
was greater than I have known. Men were seen
walking or riding quickly, and martial music told the
tale of danger. . . . There are said to be a thou-
sand sick and wounded here. They have no bedding
but a blanket, and are placed in houses through
which the wind blows. Rain spurts over the sick men's
couches, cooling their fever and making their blood
congeal, so that death interposes for their relief ! It is
rumoured that the President will be here to-night.
People were up (last night) till two o'clock, waiting to
see him. . .
General Pillow is at the hotel, but told Dr. Slaugh-
ter he would not bring Mrs. Pillow here, as General
Buell intends to make this place his headquarters !
I have no time to speculate on the future,
but try to encourage others to have courage and faith,
and not to discourage our soldiers by permitting their
fears to be known; but to stimulate them by letting
them see the firmness and calm trustfulness with which
we commit more than our lives to their keeping ! '
The news of Huntsville's danger was our private
anxiety in Richmond, where each Senator and Congress-
man carried the burden of apprehension for his own kin
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL 173
and family possessions well concealed ; for at the capital
the nation's losses and gains loomed large and obscured
the lesser ones of individuals. Moreover, always before us
was the stimulus of the presence of fearless men and the
unceasing energy of our President.
I remember on one occasion seeing President Davis
passing down the street, beside him, on the left, General
Buckner; on the right, General Breckenridge three
stalwart and gallant men as ever walked abreast; \
and as I watched them the thought came involun-
tarily, :< Can a cause fail with such men at the
head?"
Throughout the life of Richmond as a capital, the
streets were peopled with soldiers on their way to or from
the several headquarters. There was an unintermitting
beating of drums, too often muffled, and the singing of
merry bugles. With the knowledge that we were in the
city which, more than any other, invited and defied the
attacks of the enemy, a sense of danger spurred our spirits.
Though the boom of guns was often not a distant sound,
and the solemn carrying in of our wounded became
increasingly frequent, few gave way to apprehensions or
doubts; for, as I have said, there were heroes in
Richmond to cheer, and our women, putting away from
their minds the remembrance of the wounds they had
dressed in the morning visit to the hospitals, smiled and
devised entertainments well calculated to lift the burden
of responsibility, at least for the time being, from the
minds and hearts of our leaders, legislative and military.
Among the most active hostesses were Mrs. Randolph,
wife of one of the members of President Da vis's Cabinet,
and Mrs. Ives, who put on some charming private theat-
ricals in their parlours; there were the Lees and Harri-
mans; the Ritchies and Pegrams and Welfords; the
Masons and Warwicks, MacFarlanes, Seldens, Leighs
(near relatives, these, of Patrick Henry) ; besides the
174 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Branders, West Robinsons, Walkers, Scotts, Coxes,
Cabells, Semmes, Ives, and other hostesses of renown and
long pedigree, whose homes dispensed the friendliest hos-
pitality.
'Do you not remember?" wrote Mrs. Semmes, of New
Orleans, to whom I put some queries concerning an episode
of that life in Richmond, "do you not remember Mrs.
Stannard, who had such a charming house and gave such
delicious teas, alluring such men as Soule, Commodore
Barrow, Henry Marshall, of Louisiana, Butler King, and
last, though not least, bur dear old Vice-President
Stephens ? She boasted that she never read a book, and
yet all these distinguished gentlemen gathered around
her board and ate those hot muffins and broiled chicken
with gusto ! '
These, and unnumbered other faces, rise before me as
I recall the great amateur performance of "The Rivals,"
which made that first winter in Richmond memorable
and our hostess, Mrs. Ives, famous. In that performance
Constance Cary, a beauty of the Fairfax family, captured
all hearts as the languishing Lydia, among them that of
our President's Secretary, Colonel Burton Harrison, whose
wife she afterward became.
Recalling that interesting evening, Mrs. Harrison
wrote very recently, 'It seems an aeon since that
time, but I have a very vivid recollection of the fun
we had and of how prettily Mrs. Ives did everything,
spite of grim-visaged war ! How I wish I could do any-
thing now with the same zest and rapture with which
I put on Lydia's paduasoy and patches ! Brother Clar-
ence, then a very youthful midshipman, was the Fag, and
my hero, Captain Absolute, was Mr. Lee Tucker, who has
vanished, for me, into the mists of time ! I have not heard
his name in years ! '
V~ The fame of that entertainment, the excitement which
"~the preparation for it caused, spread far beyond the picket
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL 175
lines, and we heard afterward that a daring officer of
McClellan's army had planned to don the Confederate uni-
form and cross the lines to take a peep at the much-
talked-of performance. ; There was a galaxy of talent
and beauty in that fairest city of the South," writes my
friend, Mrs. Ives, recalling, in 1903, those scenes of the
early sixties, ' ' from which I was able to select a strong
cast which pre-assured us a brilliant performance.
Miss Cary was bewitching, her fair beauty accentuated by
the rich costumes she donned for the occasion and which
had been worn by her distinguished ancestors in the days
of the Old Dominion's glory ! Your sister-in-law, Mrs.
H. L. Clay, was so fascinating as Lucy that she captivated
her husband anew, as he afterward told me; and then,
besides, there was pretty Miss Herndon, who tortured her
Falkland into jealousy."*
As that historic evening's pleasures crown all other
recollections of social life in the Confederate capital, /
so soon to be in the eclipse of sorrow and undreamed-of
privations, I cannot refrain from recording some
incidents of it. Those who took part in the performance
(or their descendants) are now scattered in every State
of the Union, and it is only by the cooperation
of some who remember, among them Mrs. Cora Semmes
Ives, of Alexandria, Va., Mrs. Myra Knox Semmes,
of New Orleans, and Mrs. Burton Harrison, of New
York, that I am enabled to gather together again
the names of the cast which charmed Richmond's three
hundred during the first session of the C. S. A. Congress.
They were:
* Of Mrs. Clay herself, renowned for her histrionic talent, Mrs. Ives
wrote: " It was the hope of having you take the part of Mrs. Malaprop
that encouraged me to undertake the amateur production of Sheridan's
play. I felt sure that if all others failed, your acting would redeem all
deficiencies. You carried the audience by storm. ... I can see
you yet, in imagination, in your rich brocaded gown, antique laces and
jewels, high puffed and curled hair, with nodding plumes which seemed
to add expression to your amusing utterances !" A. S.
1 76 / A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Sir Anthony Absolute .... Mr. Randolph, of Richmond
Captain Absolute Mr. Lee Tucker
Sir Lucius O' Trigger (and he had an unapproachable brogue)
Robert W. Brown, N. Carolina
Fag Midshipman Clarence Gary
David Mr. Robinson, of Richmond
Lydia Languish Miss Constance Gary, Virginia
Julia Miss Herndon, Virginia
Lucy, maid to Lydia Mrs. Hugh Lawson Clay, Alabama
Mrs. Malaprop Mrs. Clement C. Clay, Alabama
Harpist, Mrs. Semmes Fitzgerald
Pianist, Miss Robinson.
For this great occasion no efforts were spared in the
rehearsing of our cast, nor in the preparation of our ward-
robe. Mrs. Drew, being at that time engaged in playing
a precarious engagement at the local theatre (the price of
seats not exceeding seventy-five cents, as befitted the
times) , was invited to a private consultation and criticism
of the parts, and it gives me some pleasure, even at this
day, to remember her approval of my interpretation of
the difficult role I had had the hardihood to assume.
Our Sir Lucius acquired for the occasion a brogue so rich
that almost as much time (and trouble) were necessary
to eradicate it from his speech in the weeks that followed
as had been spent in attaining it.
The defection of one of the cast for the after-piece
(Bombast es Furioso) caused our hostess to display a
genuine ability for stage management. Unacquainted
with the part she was herself compelled to assume, Mrs.
Ives resolved to bring her audience to a state of leniency
for any possible shortcomings by dazzling them with the
beauty of her apparel. A picture hat from Paris had just
run the blockade and arrived safely to the hands of little
Miss Ruby Mallory, for whom it had been destined. It
was a Leghorn, trimmed with azure velvet and plumes of
the same shade. It was an especially appropriate head-
gear for a character given to dreaming "that all the pots
RICHMOND AS A NATIONAL CAPITAL 177
and pans had turned to gold," and an appeal made to the
owner brought it swiftly into the possession of Mrs. Ives.
Her success was instantaneous. 'I declare," she said
when the play was over, ;< nothing but that Paris hat
saved me from an attack of stage fright !"
The home of Lieutenant Ives on this occasion was
crowded to its utmost capacity, the guests comprising
President and Mrs. Davis, the Cabinet and Congressional
members, together with prominent generals, numbering
in all three hundred. The stage, erected under the super-
vision of our host, an expert engineer, was a wonderful
demonstration of his ingenuity. Placed at one end of
the long Colonial parlours, it commanded the eye of every
visitor. The performance gave the utmost delight to
our audience, and Secretary Mallory, who had seen "The
Rivals " (so he told me) in every large city of the United
States, and on the boards at Drury Lane, declared it had
never been given by a cast at once so brilliant and so able !
Be that as it may, the remembrance of that performance
for forty years has remained as the most ambitious social
event in the Confederate States' capital.
CHAPTER XIII
GLIMPSES OP OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH LAND
WHILE few, I think, perceived it clearly at that early
day, yet in the spring of '62 the fortunes of the Confederacy
were declining. Many of our wisest men were already
doubtful of the issue even where belief in the justice of
our cause never wavered. Looking back upon the
prophecies of ultimate defeat that were uttered in those
days, by men accustomed to sound the security of govern-
ments, I am thrilled at the flood of patriotic feeling on
which our men and women were borne to continue in
arms against such overwhelming forces and conditions as
were brought against them. For months before that
first Congress adjourned, from every part of our federated
States, eager petitioning, complaints and ominous news
reached us. Gold, that universal talisman, was scarce,
and Confederate currency began to be looked upon with a
doubtful eye. So far-seeing a man as Judge John A. Camp-
bell, writing to Mrs. Campbell from New Orleans early in
April, 1862, said : " In the event of the restoration of North-
ern rule, Confederate money may be worthless. I pro-
ceed on that assumption. It will certainly depreciate
more and more. Hence, your expenditures should be
Confederate money, and, in any event, the bank-notes of
Georgia, Virginia and Louisiana are preferable to Con-
federate bills. If the war should last another year, the
embarrassments of everyone will be increased tenfold ! *
Within a few months the face of our capital had
changed. McClellan's ever-swelling army in the penin-
sula became more and more menacing. The shadow of
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 1 79
coming battles fell over the city, and timid ones hastened
away to points that promised more security. Some went
to the mountain resorts " to escape the hot term " in Rich-
mond, but many of the wives and daughters of non-
householders, even among those known to possess a cool
courage, moved on to the Carolinas or returned to their
native States. As the close of the Congressional session
drew near, there was a continual round of good-byes and
hand-shakings, and even an attempt now and then at a
gaiety which no one actually felt.
Our markets grew suddenly poor, and following quickly
upon the heels of a seeming prosperity, a stringency in
every department of life in the city was felt. The cost of
living was doubled, and if, indeed, any epicures remained,
they were glad to put aside their fastidiousness. Within
a year our vermicelli, when we had it at all, would have
warranted an anglicising of its first two syllables, and
our rice, beans, and peas, as well as our store of grains
and meal, began to discover a lively interest in their war-
time surroundings. We heard tales of a sudden demand
for green persimmons, since a soldier, feeding upon one of
these, could feel his stomach draw up and at once forget
that he was "hawngry." I remember hearing the story
of a certain superficial lady who spoke disdainfully, in the
hearing of Mrs. Roger A. Pryor, of a barrel of sorghum
which some friend had sent her from a distance. Full of
contempt, she ordered the offending gift to be taken away.
"Horrid stuff!" she said.
" Horrid ?" asked Mrs. Pryor, gently. " Why ! in these
days, with our country in peril, I am grateful when I am
able to get a pitcher of sorghum, and I teach my children
to thank God for it ! "
Our mail, from many quarters, was now become a
Pandora's box, from which escaped, as we opened it,
myriad apprehensions, dissatisfactions or distresses.
' Pray," wrote a friend from New Orleans, " when you see
i8o A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the President, beg him to give some attention to the dis-
loyal element in the cities, and particularly in this city,
which is filled with strangers who appear and disappear
in the most mysterious manner, go to private boarding-
houses, examine the defenses, etc., etc."
"I am thus far on my way home," wrote William L.
Yancey, from the same city, in a letter dated March 14,
1862, " having left Havana on the 26th ultimo on a
small schooner, and arrived at Sabine Pass on the 6th.
Two of Lincoln's vessels had been anchored in the channel
of that harbour for a week and only left twenty-four
hours before my arrival. . . . This city is almost
in a state of revolution," he added. "Fifteen hundred
of its weathiest and most respectable citizens and good
Southerners have organised an association and resolved
to assume executive and judicial functions to arrest,
try, imprison, banish or hang! . . . There is un-
doubtedly a deep-seated feeling of wrong done them
and of anxiety for the city's safety at the bottom of all
this, and this association should not be treated as a
mere lawless mob. Their success, however, would be
the knell of our cause in England, and perhaps on the
Continent. I am doing all I can to throw oil on the
troubled waters, and I hope with some effect.' 1
Shortly after his arrival in Richmond, Mr. Yancey,
whom my husband greatly admired, spent a morning in
our chamber space was too costly at this time to admit
of our having a private parlour in conference with
Mr. Clay, and a more hopeless and unhappy statesman
I never saw. The people in England, he declared, were
for, but Parliament opposed to us, and his mission,
therefore, had been fruitless. Every action and each
word he uttered demonstrated that he knew and felt
the ultimate downfall of the Confederacy.
By a singular coincidence, almost under the same
circumstances but some months later, a similar con-
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 181
ference took place in our rooms, but Mr. Lamar was now
the returned diplomat. But recently home from an
unfinished mission to Russia, our long-time friend talked,
as had Mr. Yancey, with a conviction that our cause was
hopeless. Mr. Lamar had proceeded only so far as Lon-
don and Paris, when, observing the drift of public feeling
abroad, he took ship again, arriving, as did many of our
returned foreign emissaries, on the top of a friendly
wave. The sea was peculiarly inimical to the cause of
the Confederate States, sinking many of the merchant
ships we succeeded in sending through the blockading
fleets that beset our coast, and wrecking our ambassadors
wherever it could grapple them, even on our very shores.
By the time Congress closed in the spring of '62, the
news from the Tennessee Valley was distracting. The
enemy had succeeded in reaching our home, and Hunts-
ville was now become the headquarters of General 0. M.
Mitchell. If that gentleman had taken delight in any-
thing besides the vigorous exercise of an unwelcome
authority, he might have found there an ideal spot for
the prosecution of his astronomical researches. The
span that rests upon the opposite apices of Monte Sano
and Lookout Mountain is one of gorgeous beauty. Upon
a clear night the planets glow benignly upon the valley,
the little stars laugh and leap and go shooting down
great distances in a manner unparalleled in more northerly
latitudes. Though generally loyal to the cause of the
Confederacy, the people of Huntsville were not indis-
posed to look upon the author-soldier with considerate
eyes, had that General adopted a humane course toward
them. Unfortunately, his career in our valley from
beginning to end was that of a martinet bent upon the
subjugation of the old and helpless and the very young,
our youths and strong men being away in the field.
The accounts that reached us by letter and by eye-
witnesses of the scenes in the Clay home were alarming.
i8 2 > A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Everything belonging to the Clays, it was rumoured, was
to be confiscated. "Judge Scruggs told Stanley," wrote
mother, " that the Clays are to be stript of all.' 3 Father's
negroes, and most of our own, were conducting them-
selves in an insolent manner, taking to the mountains
when there was work to be done, or wandering in the
train of straggling Union soldiers, but returning when
hungry to feed upon their master's rapidly diminishing
stores. In some instances, relying upon the protection
of the soldiers, the negroes of the town would take pos-
session of the home of an absent master, revelling in an
opportunity to sleep in his bed or to eat from the family
silver and china.
A dozen times a day, and at unreasonable hours, if the
invading soldiery saw fit, they entered the houses of the
citizens in what was often merely a pretended search for
some concealed Confederate, or to demand food or drink
or horses. They were constantly on the lookout for the
possible visits, to their families, of the distinguished
citizens in temporary banishment from Huntsville.
The presence of General Pope Walker being suspected
(though no longer Secretary of War, he would have been
a desirable prize to take, since he had issued orders for
the firing of the first gun at Fort Sumter), for months
the home of our friend ex-Governor Chapman, in which
the family of General Walker had taken refuge, was
searched daily, the vigilants being so scrupulous in their
investigations that even the leaves of a dictionary were
parted, lest the wily late Secretary should spirit himself
away between its covers.*
"The enemy came demanding food or horses," wrote
* I asked Mrs. Milton Humes, daughter of ex-Governor Chapman,
concerning these war-time search-parties. "I remember distinctly,"
she answered, "seeing them look into preserve jars and cut-glass decan-
ters, until my mother's risibles no longer could be repressed. 'You
don't expect to find General Walker in that brandy bottle, do you?'
she asked." A. S.
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 183
mother, 'taking all they could of breads tuffs, meat
stock, and all the able-bodied negroes, whether willing or
not. Our men hid, but they took the horses and mules,
and promised to return in a week and take every-
thing!"
Alas, poor little mother ! Those were but the beginning
of bitterer days and yet sterner deprivations ! For
months the only hope of our beleagured neighbours in
Huntsville lay in the prayed-for advance of General
Bragg, though their prayers, too, were interdicted when
made in the church; and, upon the investment of the
town, our pastor, Doctor Bannister, * was quickly
instructed as to the limited petitions with which he
might address his God on behalf of his people.
In the meanwhile, the courage of our citizens was kept
alive by General Roddy, who lay over the crest of Monte
Sano. The forays of his men were a perpetual worry to
the Federals in the valley. So audacious, indeed, did
they become that the Federal general razed the houses
on 'The Hill" and threw up breastworks, behind which
he built a stout fort, the better to resist the possible
attacks from the mountain side by brave General Roddy
and his merry men.
During General Mitchell's investment of Huntsville he
was accompanied by his daughters, who, in the ransacking
of our home, fell heiresses to certain coveted and 'con-
fiscated" articles of my own, but the possession of which
could scarcely have been an unmixed pleasure. I heard
of my losses first through a letter written late in August.
'Mr. Hammond," began the epistle, 'says in Atlanta he
saw a lady just from Nashville who told him that Miss
Mitchell rode out in your green habit on your mare! This
part of the story," continued my witty sister, "may be
true, but there is another: that the other Miss Mitchell
f Dr. J. M. Bannister, at the ripe age of eighty-six, still continues in
active pastoral charge of the Church of the Nativity in Huntsville. A. S.
1 84 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
rode in my habit on my mare ! I'm glad I had no mare,
and am sorry for poor 'Jenny Lind' !'
Months afterward I heard (and any who asks may still
hear the story in the town, for it has become one of Hunts-
ville's war-time annals) an account of Miss Mitchell's
outings in my now celebrated green habit. Her path, it
seems, as she trotted my pretty mare about the streets,
was not strewn with roses; for, though absent from our
beloved little city, I was not forgotten. One day the
horsewoman, passing proudly on her way, saw, looking
over the garden gate of a pretty cottage, the laughing face
of sweet Alice Spence, a right loyal admirer of my unde-
serving self. Alice looked up at the passing apparition,
and, full of daring, half mischievously, half indignantly,
cried out after it, " Hey ! Git off 'Ginie Clay's mare !
Git off 'Ginie Clay's ma are !"
At the sound of these words Miss Mitchell galloped
away in great anger. While Alice was still regaling her
mother with a jubilant account of her championship of
my property, a proof reached her of General Mitchell's
implacability. That afternoon her brother was ordered
into arrest, and for months thereafter was kept in custody
as a guarantee for his sister's good behaviour !
When, later, Mr. Clay and I were enabled to visit
Huntsville (the Federals having been beaten back for a
time) , I heard of an amusing encounter which took place
at the home of the Spences between Mrs. Spence and John
A. Logan. A swarthy stripling in appearance, the young
officer stood carelessly about, whilst several soldiers of
his command were engaged in a search of the premises.
As Mrs. Spence entered the room in which the officer
stood, she eyed him with genuine curiosity.
" Whose boy are you ?" she asked at last. Her daugh-
ter, who was beside her, caught her mother's arm in
alarm.
" Why, ma !" she gasped. " That's General Logan !"
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 185
"General Logan!" repeated her mother, contemptu-
ously. " I tell you he's nothing of the kind ! He's
black!"
It was already early summer when we left the troubled
capital, where everyone was keyed to a high pitch of
excitement by the manceuvrings of the enemy, now so
near that the reverberating sound of distant cannon was
plainly audible. Our way was southward. Though
withdrawing, as I supposed, for a change of scene during
the Congressional recess only, in reality my refugee days
had now begun; for, notwithstanding I made several
later stays of varying duration at Richmond, the greater
part of the two succeeding years was spent at the homes
of hospitable kin far away from that centre of anxiety and
deprivation. Upon leaving Richmond, in May of '62,
Senator Clay and I, stopping en route at the home of my
uncle, Buxton Williams, in Warrenton, North Carolina,
proceeded by easy stages to Augusta, Macon and Colum-
bus, where many of our kinfolks and friends resided, and
to which cities I often returned, when, from time to time,
the exigencies of the war compelled my husband and
me to separate. Georgia, save when Sherman's men
marched through it, two years later, was the safest and
most affluent State in the Confederacy ; but in the sum-
mer of '62 there were few localities which did not retain,
here and there at least, an affluent estate or two. Until
almost the end of hostilities the home of my uncle Williams
in Warrenton continued to be with us in Richmond the
synonym for plenty. When I had starved in the capital,
I dropped down to " Buxton Place," whence I was sure to
return laden with hampers of sweets and meats and bread
made of the finest " Number One" flour, which proved a
fine relief to the "'seconds' to which the bread-eaters of
the Confederate capital were now reduced. In the course
of a year molasses and "seconds' 1 (brown flour with the
bran still in it) came to be regarded as luxuries by many
1 86 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
who but a short time ago had feasted capriciously upon
the dainties of a limitless market.
My uncle Williams was an astute man, and when he
was assured that war had become a settled fact, instead
of hoarding his means for the benefit of invading soldiers,
he retired to his country home, bought out the contents
of a local store, which he transferred to his own cup-
boards and pantry, and made "Buxton Place" to "kith
and kin' the most generous and hospitable of asylums.
It was a peaceful, happy place, set among ample grounds,
with noble trees rising about, in which birds carolled as
they coquetted among the foliage and squirrels gambolled
at their will through the long, lazy days. No chicory and
sugar, adopting the alias of coffee, found place on that
sumptuous board in those first years, but only the bona
fide stuff ! We had sugar in abundance, and pyramids of
the richest butter, bowls of thick cream, and a marvellous
plenitude of incomparable ; ' clabber."
Once, during our wandering that autumn, we slipped
over to " Millbrook," the home of my cousins the Hilliards,
and thence to Shocco Springs, long a famous North
Carolina resort, where, to the music of a negro band,
the feet of a merry little company went flying over the
polished floor as if the world were still a happy place,
despite its wars and wounds and graves and weeping
women.
Life at dear old " Millbrook," rich with a thousand
associations of my childhood and family, still ran serenely
on. The loudest sound one heard was the hum of the bee
on the wing as it rushed to riot in the amber honey sacs
of the flowers. But whether at " Millbrook" or "Bux-
ton Place," whether we outwardly smiled or joined in the
mirth about us, inwardly my husband and I were tor-
tured with fears born of an intimate knowledge of our
national situation. We watched eagerly for our de-
spatches, and, when they came, trembled as we opened
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 187
them. Some of our communications rang with triumph,
others with an overwhelming sadness.
A thrilling letter from Richmond reached us after the
terrible "Battle of Seven Pines." A mere mention of
that deadly conflict for years was enough to start the
tears in Southern eyes, and sons and daughters, as they
grew up, were taken back to look upon the bloody field
as to a sacred mausoleum. The letter was written by
Robert Brown, our erstwhile Sir Lucius, of Mrs. Ives's
famous performance, and now serving as aide-de-camp to
General Winder.
"I have been beholding scenes of carnage," he wrote
on the loth of June. ' On the afternoon of the 3ist ult.
Winder and myself rode down to the battle-field. The
reports of the cannon were distinctly heard here, and as
we approached the field, the firing became terrific ! We
met wounded and dying men, borne upon litters and sup-
ported by solicitous friends. The scene was revolting to
me, but, singular to say, in a very short time I became
accustomed to this sight of horror, and the nearer we
approached the line of battle, the nearer we wished to get ;
but we were quite satisfied to get so near the line (proper)
as the headquarters of General Longstreet, which was
under a fine old oak tree on a slight elevation. The Gen-
eral was there, sitting most complacently upon a fine
horse, surrounded by his staff, who were riding away at
intervals bearing his orders to the line and returning. We
were about a quarter of a mile from the engagement, and
we could distinctly hear the shouts of victory of our
gallant troops, literally driving the enemy before them.
Entrenchment and battery after battery were wrested
from the Yankees by our splendid troops, old North
Carolina leading them !
' Imagine the powder burnt ! I tell you, the firing was
awful, but glorious ! Near the headquarters of Long-
street were regiments of splendid, eager troops drawn up
i88 *{'' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
in line as a reserve. Amid the heavy firing, the glorious
cheering of our troops, squad after squad of Yankee
prisoners were brought up to Longstreet under guards
buoyant with victory; and, as each reached headquar-
ters, I tell you that the reserve force would send up a yell
of delight that split the air and made old earth tremble !
One little brave band of fifty-five South Carolinians
brought in one hundred and sixty-six live Yankees and a
Captain whom they had taken! The excitement was
intense ! The firing ceased at seven o'clock. I remained
in the field until the last gun was fired. Our troops
occupied the enemy's camp that night and all the next
day ; and Monday our military talent thought it prudent
and best to fall back and give the enemy the vantage
ground we had gained !
1 'General Johnston was wounded, but not seriously, it is
said. Smith's horse was shot in two places, on the shoul-
der and just back of the saddle ; the General's coat-tail,
they say, was seriously injured. Lieutenant-Colonel
Sydenham Moore was wounded ; the ball struck his watch,
literally shattering it ! General Pettigrew was not killed,
but seriously wounded, and fell into the hands of the
enemy. They, thank God, lost two brigadier generals
and one seriously wounded. Our total loss, killed and
wounded, was thirty-five hundred. The enemy acknowl-
edge eight hundred killed and four thousand wounded.
It was a fearful fight !
" We have good news every day from Jackson ! To-day
brings us the news of his having ' completely routed the
enemy, taking six pieces of artillery ! ' Old Stonewall is
certainly the Hero of the War, and unless our Generals
Beauregard and Johnston look sharp, he will entirely
take the wind out of their sails and leave them in the
Lee-ward !"
"The city is filled with the wounded and dead," echoed
our cousin John Withers. " It is fortunate you are away
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 189
and saved the necessity of beholding the horrible sights
which are now so common here ! Great numbers of
Alabamians are killed and wounded. . . ." And he
added in a letter, written in an interval of the awful
Seven Days Battles: 'For four days I have been
awaiting some decisive move on the part of our forces,
but nothing has been done yet to settle affairs.
McClellan has not been routed, but his army is,
no doubt, demoralised to such an extent as to render
any other demonstration against Richmond out of the
question for many weeks. . . . The President
has come up from the battle-field, and I hear that a
courier from the French and British Consuls is to leave
here for Washington to-night or in the morning. We
will secure between thirty and forty thousand small arms
by our late operations ; many of them much injured by
being bent. The enemy have a position now which we
cannot well assail successfully. They are under their
gunboats and have gotten reinforcements. . . . There
is a report to-night that Magruder has captured eight
hundred Yankees to-day, but I place no reliance upon
any rumour until it is confirmed as truth. General Beau-
regard has made a most successful retreat to Baldwin,
thirty-five miles south of Corinth, on the Mobile and Ohio
Railroad. The move was necessary, and I have no doubt
will be a great blow to the enemy. He carried all his
heavy guns, tents, and so on. General Lee is in com-
mand of the army hereabouts, and I am sure we will whip
McClellan 's army when the grand contest shall take place.
The rain of last night will forbid any movement for two
or three days. When the fight opens again, we will have
thousands upon thousands of wounded here !"
Such were the accruing records of woe and of personal
and national loss which followed Senator Clay and me
throughout those autumn months of '62. The inroad
made upon the gallant regiments of our own State were
1 9 o --'; A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
frightful. The ranks of the splendid Fourth Alabama Regi-
ment, picked men of our finest blood, the flower of our
hopes, as handsome a body as a State might muster, were
terribly thinned. Wherever a call came our Alabamians
were found in the front, the envy and admiration of the
army, quickening the courage and firing the imaginations
of every company that beheld them. But oh ! our men
had need of a mighty courage, for soon the very seed-
corn of our race became a sacrifice. The picture rises
before me of a youthful cousin * who fell at Malvern Hill,
shot down as he bore aloft, the banner which he fondly
hoped would lead to victory. His blood-stained cap,
marked by a bullet hole, was all that returned of our
fair young soldier boy. Another youth, t on whom the
love and hope of a dear circle was settled, fell with his
heart pierced, and so swift was the passing of his soul
that he felt no pain nor sorrow. They say an eager
smile was on his face when they found him. For years
his loved ones, gazing upon it with weeping eyes, treas-
ured the blood-stained, bullet-torn handkerchief that
had lain over the wounded heart of the boy !
The tears start afresh when, looking into my memory,
there passes before me that army of the dead and gone.
Oh ! the sorrow that overcame all who knew him (and
the circle was wide as half the South itself) when the
news came of the death of Colonel Sydenham Moore, who
fell at Seven Pines; and even the enemy spoke solemnly
at the passing of our beloved General Tracy, who died
so courageously fighting in the battle of Port Gibson,
within three-quarters of a year! "I have little active
service at this post,' 5 he complained from Vicksburg, in
March of '63, "and the very fact incapacitates me for
the discharge of duties of other kinds. In fact, I am
ennuied past description!' So, chafing impatiently to
* Harry, son of Buxton Williams.
f James Camp Turner, of Alabama, died at Manassas.
GLIMPSES OF OUR BELEAGUERED SOUTH 191
write his name in brave deeds across some page of the
Confederate States' history, he sprang to meet the call
when it came, and fell, crowned with immortal glory in
the hearts of a loving people.
General Tracy's young wife was awaiting him, an
infant at her bosom, when we returned late in November
of '62 for a brief stay at Huntsville, from which, for a
time, the Union soldiers had been beaten back. By
this time our valley seemed so safe that families from
other threatened districts came to take refuge in it.
Colonel Basil Duke, among others, brought his wife to
Huntsville. Numerous absentee householders came
back; and interest in local enterprises was resumed.
When, in December, my husband returned to his duties
in the Senate, there was small reason to apprehend an
early reappearance, in Huntsville, of the Federals.
'North Alabama," General Bragg assured my husband,
'is as secure now as it was when I held Murfreesboro ! '
And on this assurance our spirits rose and we departed
again, promising ourselves and our parents we would
return within a few months at most.
Mr. Clay proceeded at once to Richmond, beset now
with deadly enemies within as well as without. Small-
pox and scarlet fever raged there, as in many of our
larger cities, and I pleaded in vain to be allowed to
accompany him. I turned my way, therefore, in com-
pany with others of our kin, toward Macon, where was
sojourning our sweet sister, Mrs. Hugh Lawson Clay, at
the home of Major Anderson Comer, her father. Thence
it was proposed I should proceed with her later to Rich-
mond under the escort of Colonel Clay.
That winter the weather was peculiarly cold, so
much so that on the plantations where wheat had
been sown, a fear was general lest the grain be
killed in the ground. The journey to Macon, there-
fore, was anything but comfortable, but it had
1 92 n A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
its amusing sides nevertheless. We were a party of
women.
"We arrived safely (self, Kate, Alice and servants)," I
wrote in a kaleidoscopic account which I gave my husband
of the indications of the times as seen en route. " We rode
from Stevenson to Chattanooga on the freight train, the
baggage-cars on the passenger-train being unable to
receive a single trunk. Arriving at Chattanooga, we
would have been forced to go to the small-pox hotel or
remain in the streets but for the gallantry of an ac-
quaintance of ours, an army officer of Washington
memory, who gave up his room to us, and furnished some
wagons to have our baggage hauled to the depot. At
Atlanta there was a scatteration of our forces. . . .
When night came' (being fearful of robbery, for hotels
were unsafe) * I stuffed in one stocking all my money,
and in the other, mine and Alice's watches, chains, pins,
and charms. I felt not unlike Miss Kilmansegg, of the
precious Leg. We fumigated the room, had a bed
brought in for Emily, and retired. At breakfast Colonel
Garner told me that Uncle Jones [Withers] was in the
house, and in a few minutes he presented himself. He
got in at three that morning, en route for Mobile with
thirty days' leave ; looked worn, and was sad, I thought.
Colonel George Johnson, of Marion, also called, and we
had them all and Dr. W., of Macon, to accompany us to
the cars. The guard at the gate said ' Passport, Madam,'
but I replied, 'Look at my squad; General Withers,
Colonel Garner of Bragg's staff, and a Colonel and Lieu-
tenant in the Confederate service. I think I'll pass!'
And I passed!
CHAPTER XIV
REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA
OUR stay in Macon, where it had been my intention
to remain but a few weeks, lengthened into months ; for,
upon his arrival in Richmond, Senator Clay found the
conditions such as to render my joining him, if not
impracticable, at least inadvisable. The evils of a
year agone had multiplied tenfold. Food was growing
scarcer; the city's capacity was tested to the uttermost,
and lodgings difficult to obtain. The price of board
for my husband alone now amounted to more than his
income. Feeling in legislative circles was tense, the
times engendering a troublesome discontent and strife
among eager and anxious politicians. Complaints from
the army poured in. Our soldiers were suffering the
harshest deprivations. Wearing apparel was scarce.
Many of our men marched in ragged and weather-stained
garments and tattered shoes, and even these were luxuries
that threatened soon to be unattainable. Our treasury
was terribly depleted, and our food supply for the army
was diminishing at a lamentable rate.
'You will be surprised to know," wrote General
Tracy from Vicksburg, in March, 1863, "that in this
garrisoned town, upon which the hopes of a whole people
are set, and which is liable at any time to be cut off from
its interior lines of communication, there is not now
subsistence for one week. The meat ration has already
been virtually discontinued, the quality being such that
the men utterly refuse to eat it, though the contract
193
i 9 4 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
continues to be worth between one thousand and fifteen
hundred dollars per diem."
" A general gloom prevails here because of the scarcity
and high price of food,'" ran a letter from my husband,
written in the same month from Richmond. "Our
soldiers are on half rations of meat, one-quarter pound
of salt, and one-half pound of fresh meat, without vege-
tables, or fruit, or coffee or sugar ! Don't mention this,
as it will do harm to let it get abroad. Really there is
serious apprehension of having to disband part of the army
for want of food. In this city the poor clerks and sub-
altern military officers are threatened with starvation,
as they cannot get board on their pay. God only knows
what is to become of us, if we do not soon drive the
enemy from Tennessee and Kentucky and get food from
their granaries. ... I dined with the President
yesterday at six p. M., en famille, on beef soup, beef stew,
meat pie, potatoes, coffee and bread. I approved his
simple fare and expressed the wish that the army in the
field had more to eat and that out of the field less ! '
The receipt of this news stirred me to the core. Spring
was in its freshest beauty in Macon. Its gardens glowed
with brilliant blossoms. A thousand fragrant odours
mingled in the air ; the voices of myriad birds sang about
the foliaged avenues. I thought Aunt Comer's home a
terrestrial Paradise. The contrast between the comfort
in this pretty city of lower Georgia, a city of beautiful
homes and plentiftil tables, and our poverty-stricken
capital and meagre starving camps, was terrible to
picture. I wrote impulsively (and, alas ! impotently)
in reply to my husband's letter:
" Why does not the President or some proper authority
order on from here and other wealthy towns, and im-
mediately at that, the thousands of provisions that fill
the land? Monopolists and misers hold enough meat
and grain in their clutches to feed our army and Lincoln's !
REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA 195
Put down the screws and make them release it ! Talk
of disbanding an army at a time like this ? No ! empty
the coffers and graneries and meat houses of every
civilian in the land first ! '
Many an eager and impatient hour my sister and I
spent in those months of waiting for the call from our
husbands to join them in the capital. Her sprightly wit
and unfailing courage made her a most enjoyable com-
panion, and a great favourite with all who knew her.
; 'Give my love to your sunbeam of a sister," Secretary
Mallory wrote me during those dark days. " If not one
of the lost Pleiads, at least she is a heavenly body!"
And when I quoted this to dear 'Lushe' Lamar, he
answered from the fulness of his heart: " Mallory 's
compliments grow languid in their impotence to do
justice to that beautiful embodiment of bright thoughts
and ideal graces, your sister, Celeste." I found her
all this and more in that spring we spent together in
Macon, as we daily sat and planned and compared our
news of the battle-fields, or discussed the movements of
the army. We did a prodigious amount of sewing and
knitting for our absent husbands, to whom we sent
packages of home-made wearing apparel by whomsoever
we could find to carry them. I remember one such which
gave us considerable anxiety; for, proving too large to
impose upon General Alf . Colquitt, who had undertaken to
deliver another to Senator Clay, we sent the bundle by
express. The robe which General Colquitt carried was
soon in the hands of its future wearer, but not so the
express package, which contained a pair of much-needed
boots for Colonel Clay. It lingered provokingly along the
road until we were filled with apprehension for its safety.
'Won't it break us if all those things are stolen?" I
wrote my husband. "A thousand dollars would not
buy them now ! ' And I said truly, for the prices of the
commonest materials were enormous, "Men's boots
i 9 6 "'" A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
here are from sixty to eighty dollars," wrote Mr. Clay
from Richmond; and in Macon all goods were a hundred
per cent, higher than they had been in Huntsville.
Ordinary fifteen-cent muslin now sold in Georgia at two
and a half dollars per yard, and "sold like hot-cakes" at
that. My sister and I bought what we could and made
our husbands' shirts knitting the heavier ones and
hemmed their handkerchiefs; and we rose to such a
proficiency with the needle that we did not hesitate to
undertake the manufacture of vests and trousers of
washable stuffs. I made a pair of the last-named for my
husband's little god-son, Joe Davis, and sent them to
Richmond by Colonel Lamar; but I think the dear
child did not live to don them. He died tragically at the
Executive home within a year, the waves of the war
quickly obscuring from the world about the remembrance
of the sweet baby face.
April had arrived when, journeying from Macon to
Richmond, I had my first real experience of war-time
travel. By this time people were hurrying from place
to place in every direction, some to seek refuge, and
some to find or to bring back their dead. The country
beyond the Georgia boundary was alert, apprehending
the approach of the steadily advancing Federals.
Throughout the spring the feeling had been rife that a
crucial period was approaching. My husband wrote
cautioning me to prepare to meet it. "During the
months of April and May," he said, in a letter dated
March 22d, "the result of the war will be decided by at
least four of the greatest battles the world has ever
witnessed, near Charleston or Savannah, Fredericksburg,
Murfreesboro, and Vicksburg or Port Hudson. If they
triumph on the Mississippi, the war will continue for
years ; if they fail there, I cannot think it will last longer
than Lincoln's administration, or till March of 1865.* I
* It ended in April, 1865.
REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA 197
regard events there as the most important, because the
Northwest will not aid the war much longer if the Missis-
sippi is not opened to their trade. The result of the
grand battle to come off at the first opportunity between
Bragg and Rosecrans will determine our movements
during the recess of Congress, and, it may be, our destiny
for life. If we whip the enemy, our home will again be
open to us ; if he whips us, it will fall under his dominion
for many months to come, and nothing will be left to us
that he can use or destroy.' 1 Almost as Mr. Clay wrote,
Huntsville was again invested by Federal soldiery, and
we could not, if we had wished, have returned to it.
When my sister and I departed from Georgia, passenger-
cars generally were impressed for the use of soldiers,
sick or wounded, or for those who were hurrying to the
front. I heard of instances in which travellers, unable
to find room in the regular cars, and eager to get to some
given point, begged for the privilege of squeezing into
the car in which express packages were carried.
Having held ourselves for some months in readiness
for the journey, we had kept informed as to the presence
of possible escorts in Macon. Once we planned to travel
under the protection of Captain Harry Flash, a poet who
had won some distinction for his affecting lines on the
death of General Zollicoffer, and his stirring verses on
the Confederate Flag. It fell to our lot, however, to
travel with two poets, who in days to come were to be
known to a wider world. They were Sidney and Clifford
Lanier, young soldiers, then, on their way to Virginia.
Sidney's sweetheart lived in the town, and the brothers
had stopped at Macon to make their adieux. Upon
learning of the objective destination of the young men,
my sister and I held out the bribe to them, if they would
undertake to escort us, of a fine luncheon en route;
" broiled partridges, sho' nuf sugar and sho' nuf' butter,
and spring chickens, 'quality size,'" to which allure-
i 9 8 ' . A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
ments, I am glad to say, the youthful poets succumbed
with grace and gallantry, and we began our journey.
The aisles of the cars were crowded. At many stations,
as we came through North Carolina, women entered the
car with baskets of "big blues," the luscious native
huckleberries, with full, deep bloom upon them; these
and other tempting edibles were brought aboard at almost
every station along the way. When our pleasant party
separated at Lynchburg, and the youths sat alone in
their tents, they recalled in pages truly characteristic
the memories of that long journey, in which, like tired
children, they had sometimes fallen asleep, Clifford's
head upon my sister's shoulder, and Sid's upon mine.
" I will wait no longer," wrote Clifford,* from the camp
near Suffolk (Virginia), on April iyth, "but at once,
and without ceremonie, write the little love letter I have
promised, disarming (if men, as some one says of flowers,
'be jealous things') the jealousy of your Lieges, by
addressing it to my Two Dear Friends and quondam
fellow-travellers. What a transition is this from the
spring and peace of Macon, to this muddy and war-
distracted country ! Going to sleep in the moonlight
and soft air of Italy, I seem to have waked imbedded
in Lapland snow. Yet, as I would not be an Antony,
with a genius bold, and confident in Egypt, but a trembler
and white-livered, in presence of Octavius at Rome, I
summon all my heroism, doff that which became me
when environed by flowers, poetry, music and blooming
maidens, and don shield and mail (that's figurative for
Kersey), prepared to resist ruder shocks than those of
love's arrows. Par parenthese, how the Yankees would
suffer, if we could do our devoirs as bravely and as heartily
in the heat and dust and smoke of battle, as in the
charmed air of ladies !
* Then in the Mounted Signal Service, Milligan's Battalion, from
Georgia, and on the staff of General S. D. French, now of Florida. A. 3-
REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA 199
* Enough about us. I wonder what this will find our
friends doing? My dear Mrs. Celeste? Embroidering
the Senatorial latidave or musing on sweet Macon,
sweeter Huntsville ? Mrs. Virginia ? In whatever mood
or occupation, it is agreed you have this advantage of
us: you carry your sunshine with you; we men, being
but opaque and lunatic bodies, can give light only by
reflection. Imagine, then, in what 'Cimmerian dark-
ness ' we revolve here. If you would throw a ray through
this darkness, show us one glimpse of the blue sky through
all this battle-smoke, write to us, directing care General
French, Franklin, Virginia. I shall regard, most affec-
tionately, the carrier who brings such intelligence from
that office to these headquarters. The huge shell that
has just shrieked across the intervening distance from
the enemy's trenches to our pickets, and exploding, is
not yet done reverberating, reminds me that I might
tell you a little of our situation here.
'The reticence of our General forbids all knowledge
of his plans and ultimate designs. I can only say that
our army, embracing three divisions, closely invests
Suffolk on three sides, its water and railroad com-
munications into Norfolk being still complete, except
that General French, having possession of one bank of
the river, is working hard to get into position guns of
sufficient calibre to destroy their gun-boats. That, in
the meantime, large foraging parties and immense wagon-
trains have been sent out for provisions. So that this
of forage may be the grand design after all, and instead
of living that we may fight, are fighting that we may
live, the latter being a very desperate situation, but the
more laudable endeavour of the two, perilling our lives,
not only for the vitality of our principles as patriots, but
for the very sustenance of our lives as men, seeking corn
and bacon as well as the 'bubble reputation at the can-
non's mouth/ But I began a love-letter; I fear I am
200 v A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
ending most unetherially. Starting to wing a flight across
the sea, Icarus-like, my wings have proved to be of wax,
melting with a too near approach to the sun, and I find
myself floundering, and clearing my nose and eyes and
mouth of the enveloping salt water. Being not even a
swimmer, I escape drowning by ending (Icarus found
nereids and yellow-haired nymphs to assist him), with
much love to your husbands, and an infinite quantity to
yourselves, Yours,
" CLIFF LANIER."
"God bless you both. Write to us!' said Sid., our
dear Orpheus of the South. "Have you ever, my Two
Good Friends, wandered, in an all-night's dream, through
exquisite flowery mosses, through labyrinthine grottoes,
'full of all sparkling and sparry loveliness,' over moun-
tains of unknown height, by abysses of unfathomable
depth, all beneath skies of an infinite brightness caused
by no sun; strangest of all, wandered about in wonder,
as if you had lived an eternity in the familiar contem-
plation of such things ?
' And when, at morning, you have waked from such
a dream and gone about your commonplace round
of life, have you never stopped suddenly to gaze
at the sun and exclaimed to yourself, 'what a singular
thing it is up there; and these houses, bless me, what
funny institutions, not at all like my grottoes and
bowers, in which I have lived for all eternity; and those
men and women walking about there, uttering strange
gibberish, and cramming horrid messes of stuff in their
mouths, what dear, odd creatures ! What does it all
mean, anyhow, and who did it, and how is one to act,
under the circumstances?' . . .
'If you have dreamed, thought and felt so, you can
realise the imbecile stare with which I gaze on all this
life that goes on around me here. Macon was my two-
REFUGEE DAYS IN GEORGIA 201
weeks* dream. I wake from that into Petersburg, an
indefinitely long, real life. . . .
"SiD LANIER."
Of the after months of '63, the story of my life is one
of continuous change. I migrated between Richmond
and our kin at Petersburg, paying an occasional visit to
Warrenton, North Carolina, so long as the roads were
open, or sometimes visiting our friends, the McDaniels,
at Danville; sometimes, accompanied by our sister, I
made a visit to the near-by camps, or to the multiplying
colonies of the sick and wounded. He was a fortunate
soldier in those terrible days, who fell into the hands of
private nurses. Patients in the hospitals suffered, even
for necessary medicines. Sugar was sold at fifty Con-
federate dollars a pound. Vegetables and small fruits
were exceedingly scarce. My visits to the hospital wards
were by no means so constant as those of many of my
friends, yet I remember one poor little Arkansas boy in
whom I became interested, and went frequently to see,
wending my way to his cot through endless wards,
where an army of sick men lay, minus an arm, or leg,
or with bandaged heads that told of fearful encounters.
The drip drip of the water upon their wounds to prevent
the development of a greater evil is one of the most
horrible remembrances I carry of those days. I went
through the aisles of the sick one morning, to see my little
patient, a lad of seventeen, not more. Above the pillow
his hat was hung, and a sheet was drawn over the cot
and the tale was told.
In Richmond, Miss Emily Mason (sister of John Y.
and James M. Mason), and Mrs. General Lee were inde-
fatigable in their hospital work ; and Mrs. Phoebe Pember,
sister of Mrs. Philip Phillips, was a prominent member of a
regularly organised Hospital Committee, who, afterward,
recorded her experiences in an interesting volume, reflect-
202 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
ing the gay as well as the grave scenes through which she
had passed ; for, happily, in the experiences of these
self-sacrificing nurses there was often a mingling of the
comical with the serious which had its part in relieving
the nerve-tension of our noble women. On every side the
inevitable was plainly creeping toward us. The turmoil
in the governmental body augmented constantly. The
more patriotic recognised that only in increased taxation
lay the prolonging of our national life ; but, at the mention
of such measure, protests poured in from many sides.
Our poor, wearied citizens could ill sustain a further
drain upon them. To the credit of my sex, however, we
never jcomplained. No '-Roman matron, no Spartan
mother," ever thrilled more to the task of supporting
her warriors, than did we women of the South land !
To the end we held it to be a proud privilege to sacrifice
where by so doing we might hold up the hands of our
heroes in field or forum.
" I pity those who have no country to love or to fight
for!' wrote Mrs. Yulee, the "Madonna of the Wickliffe
sisters," from her home in Florida. 'It is this very
country of yours and mine that induces me to write
this letter. I want you to use your influence (you have
much) to induce those law-makers to come up to our
necessities. Tax ! tax ! tax our people to half we have,
if necessary, but let the world know we are paying!
Ten victories will not give the Yankees such a blow as
this fact. Now, Mrs. Clay, God has given you many
friends. Stir them up to their duty ! . . . Bragg's
defeat fills us all with gloom, yet we are not discouraged.
I have never felt a doubt of my country, but dark and
painful trials are yet before us, perhaps ! J;
Alas ! Alas !
CHAPTER XV
C. C. CLAY, JR., DEPARTS FOR CANADA
I WAS in Richmond at my husband's side when Dahl-
gren's raid was made. Early one morning the cry of
danger came. We were still at breakfast, when Senator
Henry, of Tennessee, hurried in. "No Senate to-day,
Clay ! " he cried. ;< A big force of the enemy is at Lyons's,
and every man in the city is needed ! Arm yourself,
and come on!' and he hastened on his way to warn
others. Members of Congress shouldered guns, where
they could get them, and mounted guard around the
capital. They were an untrained mass, but they came
back victors and deliverers of the city.
The armies having gone into winter quarters, as the
close of Mr. Clay's Senatorial career in Richmond drew
near, he seriously contemplated a period of needed rest
from public duties. Bent upon this, he declined a
judgeship in the Military Court, which had been pressed
upon him by Mr. Davis. We dallied with enticing invi-
tations that reached us from Florida, and planned what
was to be a veritable vacation at last, together.
' Mr. Yulee is delighted with the hope of seeing you ! '
wrote the lovely chatelaine of 'Homosassa." 'He
will fish with Mr. Clay, and we will do the same ! Just
think how good oysters will be in these sad times ! Do
come, dear Mr. and Mrs. Clay, just as soon as Congress
adjourns ! My dear sister, Mrs. Holt, had a tender and
sincere affection for you. . . .
The prospect of a visit to that lovely retreat, built
upon an island, deep in the green glades of Florida and
203
204 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
far away from the political and martial strife of the inter-
vening States, was very tempting to my wearied husband,
a true lover of woods and trees and the sweet solitudes
of a bucolic life; but we were destined not to enjoy it.
Early in the spring of '64, Mr. Clay felt it his duty to
accept the high responsibility of a diplomatic mission to
Canada, with a view to arousing in the public mind of
this near-by British territory a sympathy for our cause
and country that should induce a suspension of hostilities.
Despite the failure of our representatives in European
countries to rouse apathetic kings and dilly-dallying
emperors to come to our aid, it was hard for us to believe
that our courage would not be rewarded at length by
some powerful succour, or yielding.
"I send you my speech," wrote dear Lamar to me
from his sick-bed in Oxford, Georgia, so late as June, '64.
" The views presented in reference to Louis Napoleon may
strike you as at variance with some of the acts, in which
his Imperial Highness has done some very uncivil things
in a very civil way. But his sympathy is with us. It
is his policy to frighten the Yankees into acquiescence in
his Mexican enterprise, and he no doubt would be glad to
give French neutrality in American affairs for Yankee
neutrality in Mexican affairs. In this he will fail, and
he will sooner or later find his policy and inclinations
jump together. After all, the British people are more
friendly to us than all the world besides, outside of the
[question of] Southern Confederacy. This friendship,
like most national friendships, is mixed up with a large
part of alloy, fear of the Yankees forming the base. But
respect for the South and admiration of her position
is the pure metal, and there is enough of it to make their
good-will valuable to us."
So thought many of our noblest statesmen, when, early
in the Spring, Mr. Clay started on his way through our
blockaded coast for Canada. "I earnestly desire that
C. C. CLAY, JR., DEPARTS FOR CANADA 205
his services may prove effectual in securing a permanent
peace to our bleeding country; that his efforts may be
recorded as one of the brightest pages in its history,"
wrote one; and from every quarter Mr. Clay and his
companions were followed by the prayers of a people,
wrung from hearts agonised by our long, exhausting
strife. When the parting came, the shadow of impending
evil fell so blackly upon my soul, I hastened away from
disturbed Petersburg, accompanied by my faithful maid,
Emily, and her child, determined to act upon Mr. Clay's
suggestion and seek my kin in Georgia. Petersburg was
in the greatest confusion, guns resounding in every direc-
tion. Our dear Aunt Dollie Walker, the saint, whose
faith (her Bishop said) had kept Episcopalianism alive
in Virginia through those troublous times, told us in after
days of having been literally chased up the streets by
cannon balls. It was one of the best cities in the Con-
federacy at that period to get away from.
I began my journey southward, pausing a day or two
at Danville; but, fearing each moment to hear news of
the appearance of impeding armies, blocking my way
through the Carolinas, I hastened on. The news from
the capital which reached us while in Petersburg had
been of the worst.
; You have no idea of the intense excitement," wrote
my sister. * I am so nervous I know not what to write !
No one goes to bed here at night. For several nights
past no one could have slept for the confusion and noise.
The city has been in a perfect uproar for a week. We
have heard firing in two directions all the morning, on
the Brook Turnpike and at Drewry's Bluff. The wounded
are being brought into the city in great numbers. General
Walker is wounded ! Poor General Stafford's death cast
a gloom over the city. I went with Mr. Davis to his
funeral, and carried flowers! . . . General Benning
is wounded, and Colonel Lamar, our dear L. Q. C.'s
2o6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
brother, also. _* . . At the wedding" [of Miss Lyons]
"you never saw such disorder in God's house before in
your life. Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Mallory and Mrs. Most-
everybody-else, stood up in the pews, and you could not
hear one word of the service for the noise. Mr. Davis
was there Mrs. Chestnut sat with me. She is going home
very soon, so the Colonel told me. He said it was impos-
sible for her to remain in Richmond with nothing to eat ! '
To my sister's panorama of horrors, our brother, who
was stationed in Richmond, added a masculine picture.
"The enemy press us sorely with powerful forces of
cavalry and infantry," he wrote. "The former cut off
our communications everywhere, hoping to reduce Lee
to starvation, and the presence of the latter keeps from
him reinforcements that otherwise would be promptly
sent. We have lost severely around the city. General
Stuart was shot by a Yankee soldier who fired upon him
at ten paces as he galloped past him. He died last night,
about twenty-eight hours after he received the wound.
Brigadier General Gordon, also of the cavalry, had his
arm shattered yesterday above the elbow, and 'tis said
will probably have to suffer amputation. Mr. Randolph,
the 'Sir Anthony Absolute' of your play, was wounded
yesterday in the shoulder and thigh, and will lose the
limb to-day. All the clerks of the office are in the
intrenchments and no work goes on!'
Upon learning of my determination to push on to
Georgia, our sister put away her anxiety and grew
facetious at my expense. 'I am inclined to think you
are a great coward," she wrote. "Why did you run
from Petersburg? ... I am almost ashamed of
you ! You never catch me running from Yankees !
Georgia is certainly a safe place. . ... . . When we
have killed all the Yankees and the city is perfectly quiet,
I invite you to come on and see us. ... I am weary
from walking (not running) to see the wounded!' 1
C. C. CLAY, JR., DEPARTS FOR CANADA 207
A month or so later and my sweet sister, speeding to
overtake me, joined me at Macon, in time to accompany
me to the home of our friend, Mrs. Winter, in Columbus.
Here, to compensate for the tribulations of the past
months, we were promised the most care-free of summers.
Refugees were flocking to that land of safety and plenty
just then, and whether in Macon or Columbus, our time
was spent in welcoming late-comers, in visiting and
exchanging news or comment of the times, or making
little excursions to near-by towns. Once we formed a
party and visited the ''White Farm" of Augusta Evans,
then unmarried. It was a unique place and celebrated
for the unsullied whiteness of every bird and beast on
the place.
Upon our arrival at our friend's home in Columbus,
we found a very active field awaiting us. It was
now mid-summer of '64, somewhat after the bloody
battle of Atlanta. In anticipation of our coming,
Mrs. Winter had prepared her largest and coolest rooms
for us. All was ready and we about due to arrive, when
an unforeseen incident frustrated our hostess's plans in
regard of our intended pleasuring, and put us all to more
serious work. It was in the late afternoon when our
friend, driving in her calash along the boundaries of the
town, came upon a pitiful sight. Near a group of tents
a sick man, a soldier, lay writhing upon the ground in a
delirium, while near by and watching him stood his
alarmed and helpless coloured servant. Mrs. Winter,
aroused to pity by the sight, immediately gave orders
that the sufferer be carried to her home, where he was
placed in the room that had been prepared for me.
When my sister and I arrived, a few hours afterward,
our sympathies, too, were at once enlisted for the un-
fortunate man. He proved to be Captain Octave
Vallette, a Creole, who, previous to his enlistment, with
his brother, had been a ship-builder at Algiers, Louisiana.
208 : A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
A physician was already in attendance when my
sister and I arrived, and an examination of the invalid's
wounds was making.
A week had elapsed since the first hasty dressing of
the wound, and the blackened flesh now suggested the
approach of the dreaded gangrene.
The cleansing of the dreadful wound was a terrible
ordeal. For days the patient raved, and to us, just
from the camps and hospitals of Virginia, his frenzied
words conveyed most vivid pictures of the experiences
our men were meeting in the deadly fray.
" God ! What a hole for soldiers to be in ! " he would
cry ; and then would mumble on incoherently until, in an
accession of fevered strength, he would burst out, " Give
them hell, boys !' while his negro man stood by, blinded
by tears.
Finally, however, our care was rewarded, and our in-
valid began slowly to recover. The first day he was
able to ebdure it, we took the Captain to drive in Mrs.
Winter's calash. He was still weak, and very melan-
choly; the injured arm was stiff and all but a useless
member. We tried to cheer him by merry talk.
'Surely," we said at last, as we drove by a new-made
cemetery, with its bare little whitewashed head-boards,
'weak as you are, isn't this a great deal better than
lying out there with a board at your head marked
1 0. V. ' ? " At this he smiled, but grimly.
The ensuing months to me were a time of indecision.
My sister departed to rejoin her husband in Richmond,
and I, feeling quite cut off from those nearest to me,
formed numerous plans for leaving the Confederate
States. I wished to go to Mr. Clay in Canada, or to
England, where so many dear friends were already
installed ; and so earnestly did this desire fix itself in my
mind that wheels were set in motion for the securing of
a passport. My friends in Richmond and in Georgia
C. C. CLAY, JR., DEPARTS FOR CANADA 209
urged me to reconsider. Mr. Clay might even then be on
his way home ; would I not come to the capital and wait ?
But I declined, and kind Secretary Mallory acceded to
my wishes, though cautioning me against our enemies on
the seas. 'I only wish I could send you abroad in a
public vessel," he wrote, as he inclosed Mr. Seddon's pass-
port, 'but I have not a blockade runner under my
control.
'You will, of course, avoid Bermuda and Nassau.
The yellow-fever still rages and embraces new-comers at
the very beach; and knowing that nothing on earth
would ever fail to embrace you that had the power of
doing so, and having a painful experience of his warm
and glowing nature, I am anxious that you shall keep
out of his way. . . . Angela and Ruby send their
love. They regret, with me, that your promised visit to
us is not to be paid."
Yet, after all these preparations I remained; for, as
the weeks passed, it seemed clear Mr. Clay was likely to
arrive at any time. His associate, Professor Holcombe,
had already returned, though wrecked off the coast of
Wilmington. Whole ship-loads of cotton, which had
succeeded in running the blockade and which we fondly
hoped would replenish our pocket-books, had gone to
the bottom. On the whole, travel by sea grew less and
less attractive. I concluded to remain on terra firma,
but to go on toward Augusta and Beech Island, South
Carolina, that I might be nearer the coast when Mr.
Clay should arrive. Ere I left Columbus I had a ludi-
crous adventure. Upon coming downstairs one morn-
ing, I saw, approaching the outer, wide-open door,
a large, portly figure clad in Macon Mills muslin.
Beyond him, in the street, a wagon stood, or was
passing. It was loaded with watermelons. As I
noted them and the figure approaching, I connected the
two at once, and called back to my hostess, with all the
210 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
enthusiasm for which I was ever famous at the near
prospect of a "million/' "Cousin Victoria! Don't you
want some melons? Here's a watermelon man!' To
my surprise, as I neared the door a hearty laugh rang
out ; a cordial hand was extended to me, and I recognised
before me genial, jovial General Ho well Cobb, who had
left his military duties for the moment, in order to
welcome me to Georgia. His long beard, which he
declared he never would shave until our cause was won,
together with the copperas and unbleached suit of muslin,
had quite disguised him for the moment.
CHAPTER XVI
THE DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND
MY memories would be incomplete were I to fail to
include in them a description of plantation life that may
be taken as a type of the beautiful homes of the South
in that long ago before the Civil War. From Maryland
to Louisiana there had reigned, since colonial times, an
undisturbed, peaceful, prosperous democracy, based upon
an institution beneficial alike to master and servant. It
was implanted in the South by the English settlers, ap-
proved by the English rulers, and fostered by thrifty
merchants of New England, glad to traffic in black men
so long as there were black men upon the African coasts
who might be had in exchange for a barrel of rum.
Generations living under these conditions had evolved a
domestic discipline in Southern homes which was of an
ideal order. Nothing resembling it had existed in
modern times. To paraphrase the nursery rhyme, the
planter was in his counting-house counting out his
money; his wife was in the parlour eating bread and
honey; the man servant was by his master's side, the
maid with her mistress, the meat-cook at his spit and
the bread-cook at the marble block where the delicious
beaten biscuit were made in plenty. The laundress
was in the laundry (Chinamen then in China) , and in the
nursery lived, ever at her post, the sable sentinel of
cribs and cradles, the skilful manufacturer of possets and
potions. None but a Southerner to the manner born
can appreciate or imagine the tie that bound us of that
old-time South to our dear black mammy, in whose
211
212 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
capacious lap the little ones confided to her care cuddled
in innocent slumber.
Fruitful vineyards and gardens furnished our luxuries,
and talent and faithful public service were the criterion
of social standing. Of those bygone days, Mr. E. Spann
Hammond * recently wrote, ' To me it seems as if I had
been in two worlds, and two existences, the old and the
new, and to those knowing only the latter, the old will
appear almost like mythology and romance, so thorough
has been the upheaval and obliteration of the methods
and surroundings of the past."
Yes ! the old glories have passed away, but even those
who destroyed them, looking back to that time and that
Southern civilisation, recognise to-day how enviable were
our solidarity as a people, our prosperity and the moral
qualities that are characteristic of the South. " I have
learned not only to respect, but to love the great qual-
ities which belong to my fellow citizens of the South-
ern States," said Senator Hoar, recently. "Their love
of home, their chivalrous respect for women, their cour-
age, their delicate sense of honour, their constancy,
which can abide by an appearance or a purpose or an
interest for their States through adversity, and through
prosperity, through years and through generations, are
things by which the more mercurial people of the North
may take a lesson. And there is another thing," he
added, " the low temptation of money has not found any
place in our Southern politics."
It was my good fortune during the late autumn and
winter of 1864 to be invited to take refuge in a spacious
and representative plantation home in South Carolina,
where the conditions that obtained were so typically
those of the Southern home that I could choose no better
example for description, were I to scan here the
numberless instances of a similar character, known to
* Son of Senator Hammond, of South Carolina.
SENATOR JAMES H. HAMMOND
of South Carolina
DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND 213
me before those unquiet days. "Redcliffe," the home
of Senator Hammond, is still a point of interest to travel-
lers, and a beautiful feature of the landscape in which it
is set. It is built upon a high knoll on Beech Island,
South Carolina, and is visible to the naked eye at a distance
of thirty-five miles. It lies within view of Sand Hill,
where the famous Madame Le Vert spent her declining
years, and is pointed out to the visitor by the residents
of Augusta, Georgia, and the smaller towns about, as an
object of local admiration and pride. In the decades
preceding the war it was owned by Governor, afterward
Senator, James H. Hammond, a wealthy man in his own
right, whose possessions were greatly increased by his
marriage to Miss Catherine Fitzsimmons. Miss Fitz-
simmons was a daughter of one of South Carolina's
richest citizens, and brought to Governor Hammond a
splendid dowry. Her sister became the wife of Colonel
Wade Hampton, who had been on General Jackson's
staff at the battle of New Orleans, and whose son,
General and Senator Wade Hampton, served in the same
Congress with Senator Hammond. While in Washington,
the latter, distinguished alike for his reserve and scholarli-
ness, became known as the "Napoleon of the Senate."
He was no lover of public life, however, and the senatorial
office was literally thrust upon him. Especially as the
strenuousness in Congress increased, his desire deepened
to remain among his people and to develop what was, in
fact, one of the most productive plantations in South
Carolina. The estate of " Redcliffe " was stocked with the
finest of Southdowns, with sleek, blooded kine, and
horses, and a full flock of Angora goats. The prolific
' Redcliffe >:> vineyards yielded unusual varieties of grapes,
planted and cared for by white labourers. Four hundred
slaves or more were owned by Senator Hammond, but
these were set to less skill-demanding duties. For the
planting of this vineyard, forty acres of land, sub-soiled
2i 4 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to a depth of three feet, were set apart, and the clear,
straw-coloured wine for which the Senator's cellar was
famous came from his own wine-presses.
On the plantation was a large grist-mill, from which
every human creature in that vast family was fed. It
was a big, heavy timbered building, grey even then with
age, and run by water. Here the corn was crushed
between the upper and the nether mill-stones, and so
skilful was the miller that each could have his hominy
ground as coarse or as fine as his fancy dictated, and
all the sweetness of the corn left in it besides. The
miller could neither read nor write, but he needed no aid
to his memory. For years he had known whose meal-
bag it was that had the red patch in the corner. He
knew each different knot as well as he knew the negros'
faces, and if any of the bags presented had holes in it the
miller would surely make its owner wait till the last.
Lower down on the same water-course was the saw-
mill, which had turned out all the lumber used in the
building of "Redcliffe." On one occasion it happened
that this mill, needing some repairs, a great difficulty was
encountered in the adjustment of the mud-sills, upon
which the solidity of the whole superstructure depended.
The obstacles to be removed were great, and it cost
much time and money to overcome them. While Mr.
Hammond was Senator, and in the official chamber was
grappling with the problem of labour and capital, his
experience with the mud-sills was opportunely recalled,
and his application of that name to certain of the labour-
ing classes at once added to his reputation for ready
wit.
On the "Redcliffe" plantation the blacksmith was to
be found at his forge, the wheelwright in his shop, and
the stock-minder guarding the welfare of his charges.
Measured by the standard that a man has not lived in
vain who makes two blades of grass to grow where but
DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND 215
one grew before, Senator Hammond might have been
crowned King of agricultural enterprise, for his highest
producing corn-lands before he rescued them had been
impassible swamp-lands. Drained and put under culti-
vation, their yield was enormous, no less than eighty
bushels of corn being the average quantity to the acre.
There was scarcely a corner of the old " stake-and-rider
fences ' in which Mr. Hammond did not cause to be
planted a peach or apple or other fruit tree.
Our cousin Miss Comer, who late in the fifties married
the son of Senator Hammond, and made her home at
'Redcliffe," though accustomed to affluent plantation
life, was at once impressed by the splendid system that
directed the colony of slaves at Beech Island. Each
marriage and birth and death that took place among
them was registered with great exactness. The Senator's
business ability was remarkable. He knew his every
possession to the most minute particular. The Hammond
slaves formed an exclusive colony, which was conducted
with all the strictness of a little republic. They were a
happy, orderly, cleanly, and carefree lot, and Mr. Ham-
mond was wont to say that if the doctrine of transmi-
gration of souls was true, he would like to have his soul
come back and inhabit one of his "darkies."
I have said they were an exclusive colony. My
pretty little cousin realised this upon her arrival at
'Glen Loula," a charming residence named for her, and
set apart for the young couple by the owner of ' Red-
cliff e."
'The Hammond negro, as I have found him," she
wrote, "has a decided personal vanity, and nothing will
offend him more than to have you forget his name.
For a long time after coming I felt I was not exactly
admitted by the different servants as ' one ob de fambly.'
In fact, it was plain I was on trial, being * weighed in
the balance ! ' How I wished I knew all about diplomacy !
216 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
I never saw a more august appearance than Daddy
'Henry/ an old African, who remembers the slave ship
on which he was brought over, his foreign name, and,
perhaps, many things which he never tells about. He
cleans the silver, polishes the floors and windows and
the brasses in the fireplaces, and, besides this, claims the
boys' guns as his by some divine right.
" In order to hasten an expression of their good-will, I
thought one day of making a Sterling exchange with the
aid of some Washington finery; and, with a black silk
dress to one servant and a morning-robe to another, I
have pulled through famously, even with Harm Jane, the
cook, who is supreme in her kitchen. I have heard
her turn my husband out. But the silk dress brought
me a carte blanche. ' Come on, Missy, jes w'en you feels
like it ! ' is the way she greets me now.
"I cannot help seeing the wise arrangement of every
part of this extensive plantation, especially for the
negroes. The house of the overseer is in the midst of a
grove of live oaks, and in each street are a certain number
of cabins, each in the midst of a little garden with space
in which to raise chickens. The hospital is well arranged,
and there is a separate house where the children, espe-
cially the babies, are left to be fed and cared for while
their mothers are at work.
"My poor memory for faces would be my undoing
but for Paul, who always tells me as we come upon any
of the negroes, * Now this is Jethro ! Be sure to call
him distinctly.' I fall in with this righteous deception
and it works like a charm. They admire what they
think wit, and especially love to memorise some easy
little rhyme. Every one makes the same atrocious
wish to me :
'God blass you, ma Missie. I wishes you joy
An' every year a gal or a boy/
" I thought I would die when I heard it first, but I've
DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND 2 1 7
gotten over it now. Senator Hammond gives a barbecue
to the slaves every Fourth of July and Christmas, and
the dances of the negroes are very amusing. There is a
tall black man, called Robin, on this plantation, who has
originated a dance which he calls the turkey-buzzard
dance. He holds his hands under his coat-tails, which
he flirts out as he jumps, first to one side, and then to
the other, and looks exactly like the ugly bird he imi-
tates."
In the uncertain days of the war, Huntsville being un-
approachable, and we having no fixed abode in the
intervals between Congressional sessions at Richmond,
Senator Clay and I made several enjoyable visits to the
sheltered home of Mr. Hammond, even while battles
raged and every heart was burdened with apprehension.
The hospitality of the owner of "Redcliffe' : was well
known. It was his custom in those uncertain days,
whether guests were known to be coming or not, to send
his carriage daily to Augusta to meet the afternoon
train, and the unexpected or chance arrival who might
be seeking a conference or a refuge at 'Redcliffe"; and
once a year, like a great feudal landlord, he gave a fete
or grand dinner to all the country people about, at which
he always contrived to have some distinguished guest
present. Senator Clay and I had the good fortune to be
visiting Mr. Hammond on such an occasion, when every
neighbour, poor or rich, for miles about was present.
They made a memorable picture; for the majority were
stiff and prim and of the quaint, simple, religious class
often to be found in back districts. They seemed ill at ease,
if not consciously out of place, in Senator Hammond's
parlours, filled as those great rooms were with evidences
of a cosmopolitan culture, with paintings and statuary,
bronze and marble groups.*
* Many of these possessions are still retained by Messrs. Spann and
Harry Hammond.
218 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
In their efforts to entertain their guests, our host and
hostess's ingenuity had been tested to its utmost, when
suddenly Senator Hammond's eye twinkled, and he
turned to Senator Clay.
'I remember once seeing you dance at our home in
Washington, Mr. Clay," he began, and then proceeded
to recall an amusing evening, where, strictly en famille,
Senator Butler, of South Carolina, together with Secre-
tary and Mrs. Cobb, Senator Clay and myself, had dined,
finishing up the hours together by singing our favourite
ballads. Upon my playing a merry tune, Secretary
Cobb, rotund and jolly, suddenly seized my husband,
slender and sedate, and together they whirled madly
about the room to the music of the piano, and the great
amusement of dear old Senator Butler, who laughed until
the tears rolled down his cheeks.
When Mr. Hammond at "Redcliffe" proposed that Mr.
Clay repeat his terpsichorean success for the pleasure of
the Beach Islanders there gathered, my husband at first
(emulating the distinguished artist wherever he is encoun-
tered) demurred. He "could not dance without music,"
he said.
"Well," said our host, "Mrs. Clay can play !"
'But I need a partner!" my husband persisted. At
last, however, he yielded to Senator Hammond's persua-
sion and danced an impromptu Highland fling, abandon-
ing himself completely to the fun of the moment. As the
music went on and his spirit of frolic rose, the faces of
some of the spectators around us grew longer and longer,
and, I am sure, those good people felt themselves to be a
little nearer to the burning pit than they had ever been
before. Their prim glances at my husband's capers
increased the natural sedateness of our hostess, who, see-
ing the expressions of alarm, plainly was relieved when at
last the terrible Bacchanalian outburst was over ! I felt
sure it would be a difficult task to try to convince my hus-
DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND 219
band's audience that his own religious feelings and con-
victions were of the deepest and most spiritual quality.
For his black dependents, Senator Hammond had built
several churches ; the favourite one, called St. Catherine's
(named for Mrs. Hammond), being nearest the ' Red-
cliff e" residence and most frequently visited by the fam-
ily. Once a month a white preacher came, and all the
slaves gathered to listen to the monthly sermon. Sena-
tor Hammond's views for the civilising of the negroes led
him to forbid the presence of exciting negro preachers, for
the religion of the black man, left to himself, is generally a
mixture of hysteria and superstition. The conversion
of the negroes under their own spiritual guides was a
blood-curdling process in those days, for they screamed to
Heaven as if the Indians with their tomahawks were after
them, or danced, twisting their bodies in most remark-
able manner.* As their emotion increased, as they "got
feelin'," and the moment of conversion approached, as a
rule they fell all in a heap, though in thus :< coming
through ' the wenches were altogether likely to fall into
the arms of the best-looking young brother who happened
to be near. By reason of Senator Hammond's wise disci-
pline, such religious excesses were impossible at ' Red-
cliff e," and I can recall no church service at once more
thrilling and reverential than that I attended, with Sena-
tor Clay, at quaint St. Catherine's on the 'Redcliffe' 1
plantation shortly before my husband's departure for
Canada.
The negroes, clean, thrifty, strong, all dressed in their
best, vied with each other in their deference to Mars'
*To overcome these conditions, the Right-Reverend William Capers,
distinguished in the Methodist Church, organised a wicje system of
missionary work among the plantation negroes, whereby preaching and
catechising by white ministers took place once a month. Many of the
great planters assisted in this good work, Senator R. Barnwell Rhett, Sr.,
being prominently associated with Bishop Capers. Senator Rhett
built a large church, which was attended by the negroes from five
plantations, and regularly by his own family. A. S.
220 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Paul's guests, as we entered the church. They listened
quietly to the sermon as the service proceeded.
It was a solemn and impressive scene. There was the
little company of white people, the flower of centuries of
civilisation, among hundreds of blacks, but yesterday in
the age of the world, wandering in savagery, now
peaceful, contented, respectful and comprehending the
worship of God. Within a day's ride, cannon roared,
and a hunter, laying his ear to the ground, might have
heard the tread of armies, bent upon the blotting out of
just such scenes as these. Only God might record our
thoughts that morning, as the preacher alluded in prayer
and sermon to the issues of the times. At the close of the
morning, the hymn " There is rest for the weary' was
given out, and when the slaves about us had wailed out
the lines
"On the other side of Jordan
Where the tree of life is blooming
There is rest for you !"
N
my husband, at the signal for prayer, fell upon his knees,
relieving his pent-up feelings in tears which he could not
restrain. My own commingling emotions were indescrib-
ably strange and sad. Would abolitionists, I thought,
could they look upon that scene, fail to admit the bless-
ings American " slavery " had brought to the savage black
men, thus, within a few generations at most, become at
home in a condition of civilisation.
There were many fine voices on the plantation at " Red-
cliffe," and as they followed their leader down the row
"chopping out' cotton, or, when later they worked in
gangs at picking it, it was their custom, seeming to act
from instinct in the matter, to sing. One voice usually
began the song, then another would join him, and then
another, until dozens of voices blended in weird and
melodious harmonies that floated from the distant cotton
DEPARTED GLORIES OF THE SOUTH LAND 221
fields to the house of the master, and the music of the
unseen choristers, a natural and rhythmic song, was of a
kind we shall not hear again in these later practical times.
Sometimes, one by one, all would drop out of the song,
until only the leader's high voice was heard ; then, gradu-
ally, they would join in again, and often, when all
seemed finished, a challenge would come from some dis-
tant gang, and a fuller and freer antiphonal song would
be heard, answering from field to field.
When I remember that throng of well-fed, plump and
happy coloured people, and compare it with the ragged
and destitute communities common among the freedmen
of to-day, the contrast is a sad one. " What's de reason ?"
asked an old darky of me during Reconstruction days,
" dat de Yankees caint make linsey-wolsey like ole Mistis
did in de ole time ? 'N dose days one par breeches las me
mos a year! I could cut trees, roll logs, burn bresh-
heaps an' cut briers an' I couldn't wear dem breeches out !
Now when I buys dis shoddy stuff de Yankees done bro't
an' sets down on de lawg ter eat ma grub, bress Gawd !
when I gits up, I leaves de seat o' my breeches on de lawg !
I done got down on my knees an' prayed for God ter send
me linsey-wolsey clothes so I won't have rheumatiz an*
aint none come. Where's dat mule an' forty acres?
When is dey a comin', dat's what I wants ter know !"
CHAPTER XVII v
CONDITIONS IN i863~'64
i
BY the autumn of 1864 the Southern States found them-
selves ravaged of everything either edible or wearable.
Food was enormously high in cities and in locations
which proved tempting to foragers. Delicately bred
women were grateful when they were able to secure a pair
of rough brogan shoes at one hundred dollars a pair, and
coarse cotton cloth from the Macon Mills served to make
our gowns. For nearly three years the blockade of our
ports and frontier had made the purchase of anything
really needful, impracticable. Nor could we utilise the
stores in Southern cities once these had fallen into the
enemies' clutches. A correspondent, Mrs. Captain du
Barry,* who in December, 1863, was permitted to visit
Memphis, now in the enemy's possession, wrote, " I deeply
regretted not being able to fill your commissions. I put
them on my list that I sent in to General Hurlburt, when
I requested a passport, but they were refused. All the
principal stores were closed and their contents confis-
cated. There is a perfect reign of terror in Memphis.
Not even a spool of cotton can be purchased without regis-
tering your name and address, and " swearing it is for per-
sonal or family use, and no number of articles can be
taken from the store without, after selection, going with a
list of them in your hand, to the " Board of Trade," accom-
panied by the clerk of the store, and'there swearing on the
Bible that the articles mentioned are for family use and
not to be taken out of the United States. So many neces-
* Mother of the unfortunate Mrs. Maybrick.
222
CONDITIONS IN 1863^64 223
sary articles are pronounced contraband by the United
States authorities, that one is in momentary chance of
being arrested, by ignorantly inquiring for them. The
place is swarming with detectives who make a trade of
arresting unfortunate people. They are paid by the
United States Government two hundred and fifty dollars
for detecting and arresting a person, and that person pays
the Provost Marshal fifteen hundred to two thousand
dollars to get off, that being the way matters are con-
ducted in Memphis !"
All over the South old spinning wheels and handlooms
Were brought out from dusty corners, and the whirr of
the wheel became a very real song to us. Every scrap of
old leather from furniture, trunk, belt or saddle was saved ;
for the manufacture of rough shoes, often made by the
mother who had been fortunate enough to have hoarded
them, for herself and children. I, myself, saw my aunt,
Eloisa, wife of General Jones M. Withers, putting soles on
the tops of once cast-off shoes of her children's, and she,
who had known so well the luxuries of life, was compelled
to perform her task by the meagre light of a precious tal-
low candle. Complaints, Jipwever, were few, from our
Spartan-spirited women. Writing to my husband, in
November, 1864, I said, "A lady told me yesterday that % |
she fattened daily on Confederate fare for, since she
could obtain no useless luxuries, her health, heretofore
poor, has become perfect."
The country was stripped not alone of the simpler refine-
ments of life, but of even so necessary a commodity as salt.
Scarcely a smoke-house in the South having an earthen
floor, which had received the drippings from the hams or
bacon sides of earlier days, but underwent a scraping and
sifting in an effort to -secure the precious grains deposited
there. It happened that my host at 'Redcliffe," just
previous to the breaking out of hostilities, had ordered a
boat-load of salt, to use upon certain unsatisfactory land,
224 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
and realising that a blockaded coast would result in a salt
famine, he hoarded his supply until the time of need should
come. When it became known that Senator Hammond's
salt supply was available, every one from far and near
came asking for it. It was like going down into Egypt
for corn, and the precious crystals were distributed to all
who came, according to the number in each family.
Compared with those of many of my friends in other
parts of the South, our surroundings and fare at Beech
Island were sumptuous. Save at my Uncle Williams's
! home, I had nowhere seen such an abundance of good
things as "Redclifle" yielded. Meats and vegetables
were plenty ; the river nearby was full of shad which were
caught readily in seines; and canvas-backs and teal,
English ducks and game birds, especially partridges,
abounded. " Indian summer is here in all its glory," I
wrote to my husband late in ' 64. " The hues of the forests
are gorgeous, the roses wonderful ! Millions of violets
scent the air, and everything is so peaceful and lovely on
this island it is hard to realise War is in the land. Splen-
did crops prevail, and the spirit of the people is un-
daunted !"
As times grew more and more stringent, tea and coffee
proved to be our greatest lack, and here, as we had
done in the last days at Warrenton, we were glad to drink
potato coffee and peanut chocolate. The skin of the
raw potato was scraped off to pare it might have been
to waste it and the potato cut into slices or discs as thin
as paper. It was then carefully dried, toasted and
ground, and made into what proved to be a really delicious
beverage.* Our chocolate was made in this wise: Pea-
nuts, or pinders, or goobers, as they were variously called,
were roasted and the skin slipped off. They were next
* A recent writer attributes to those experiences, the coffee substi-
tutes which now, forty years later, have "ruined the American
coffee trade." A. S.
CONDITIONS IN i86 3 -'6 4
225
pounded in a mortar; when, blended with boiled milk
and a little sugar (a sparing use of this most costly luxury
was also necessary) , the drink was ready for serving, and
we found it delightful to our palates.
There were spinners and weavers on Beech Island, too,
and unceasing industry was necessary to prepare and
weave cloth, both cotton and wool, sufficient for the
clothing of the army of slaves and the family on the great
plantation. One of the island residents, Mrs. Redd, was
a wonderful worker, and wove me a cotton gown of many
colours which had all the beauty of a fine Scotch plaid.
She spun her own cotton and made her own dyes, gather-
ing her colours from the mysterious laboratories of the
woods, and great was the fame her handiwork attained
wherever it was seen. Calico of the commonest in those
days was sold at twenty -five dollars a yard; and we
women of the Confederacy cultivated such an outward
indifference to Paris fashions as would have astonished
our former competitors in the Federal capital. Nor did
our appearance, I am constrained to think, suffer appreci-
ably more than our spirits ; for the glories of an unbleached
Macon Mills muslin gown, trimmed with gourd-seed but-
tons, dyed crimson, in which I appeared at Richmond in
the spring of '64, so impressed the mind of an English
newspaper correspondent there, that he straightway
wrote and forwarded an account of it to London, whence
our friends who had taken refuge there sent it back to us,
cut from a morning journal.
Not that our love for pretty things was dead; a let-
ter preserved by Mr. Clay is fine testimony to the fact
that mine was "scotched, and not killed." It was dated
Beech Island, November 18, 1864, and was addressed to
Mr. Clay, now on the eve of departure from Canada.
' Bring me at least two silk dresses of black and purple.
I prefer the purple to be moire antique, if it is fashionable.
If French importations are to be had, bring me a spring
226 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
bonnet and a walking hat, for the benefit of all my lady
friends as well as myself, and do bring some books of
fashions September, October, and November numbers
(Ruling passion strong in war), and bring ." The list
grew unconscionably. In after years I found a copy of it
carefully made out in my husband's handwriting, and
showing marks of having been carried in his pocket
until each article I had indicated for myself or others
had been selected, Here it is :
1. At least, 2 silk dresses, black and purple (for'Ginie).
2. French spring bonnet.
3. Walking hat.
4. Some books of fashion.
5. Corsets 4 6, 22 inches in waist.
6. Slippers with heels, No. 3 1-2.
7. Gloves i doz. light coloured, i doz. dark.
8. Handkerchiefs, extra fine.
9. Two handsome black silk dresses for Lestia.
10. Flannel, white and red.
11. A set of fine, dark furs, not exceeding $25.
12. Set of Hudson Bay Sables, at any price, for Victoria,
large cape, cuffs and muff.
13. Two Black Hernanis or Tissue dresses, one tissue
dress to be brochetted for 'Ginie.
14. 3 or 4 pieces of black velvet ribbon, different widths.
15. Bolt of white bonnet ritibon; ditto pink, green and
magenta.
1 6. French flowers for bonnet.
17. Shell Tuck comb for 'Ginie.
1 8. Present for little Jeff Davis, Claude and J. Winter.
19. Needles, pins, hairpins, tooth-brushes, coarse combs,
cosmetics, hair oil, cologne.
20. Domestic, linen, muslin, nainsook, swiss, jaconet,
mull muslin, each a full piece.
21. Dresses of brilliantine.
22. Black silk spring wrapping.
23. Chlorine tooth wash and Rowland's Kalydor.
24. A cut coral necklace.
25. Lace collars, large and pointed now worn.
Alas ! my husband's zeal in fulfilling my commissions
CONDITIONS IN 1863^64 227
all went for naught, for the boxes containing them (save
two, which were deposited with Mrs. Chestnut, at Colum-
bia, and later fell prey to the Federals or to the flames, we
never knew which) were swallowed by the sea, and only
he himself came home with the Government papers he had
guarded, as the sole baggage he was able to save from the
wreck of the Rattlesnake of all he had carried. And yet
not all, for a long-lost pet which he had been enabled to
reclaim for General Lee * was also brought safely to shore.
"Tell him/ 1 wrote my sister, from Richmond, that
"General Lee's dog arrived safely. Poor dog! I'm
sorry for him, for he will find the Confederacy a poor place
to come to to get anything to eat ! I trust for the coun-
try's sake, he knows how to live without eating !"
For the making of our toilette we discovered the value .
of certain gourds, when used as wash cloths. Their wear- \^
ing qualities were wonderful ; the more one used them the
softer they became. Needles were becoming precious as
heirlooms; pins were the rarest of luxuries; for the
greater part of the time locust thorns served us instead.
Writing paper was scarcely to be had, and the letters of
that period which were sent out by private persons were
often unique testimony to the ingenuity of the senders.
Wall-paper, perhaps, was most frequently resorted to, an(
we made our crude envelopes of anything we could fine
We made our own writing fluids, our commonest resource
being the oak ball, a parasite, which, next to the walnut
burr, is the blackest thing in the vegetable world. Or,
this failing us, soot was scooped from the chimney, and,
after a careful sifting, was mixed with water and " fixed'
with a few drops of vinegar. Sometimes we used poke-
* Shortly after his arrival in Canada, Mr. Clay heard of General Lee's
lost favourite. The animal, a fine Newfoundland, had been taken from
the Lee home at Arlington by a Federal soldier, who sold it to a Captain
Anderson (commanding an English vessel) for one hundred dollars.
After some months of inquiry and negotiation, Mr. Clay secured the
dog, and personally brought him back to the Confederate States. A. S.
228 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
berries, manufacturing a kind of red ink, or, made thin
with water, some bit of miraculously saved shoe polish
provided us with an adhesive black fluid.
Our difficulties were as great in the matter of transmit-
ting our letters, when once they were written. We might
intrust them to the mails, but these particularly were prey
to our invaders ; or we might charge with the care of them
some traveller who was known to be making his way to
the city for which the letters were addressed. Stray news-
papers reached us at "Redcliffe" occasionally, from even
so distant a point as our capital, and efforts were made
by local editors to purvey the news of battles and the
movements of the armies, but the supply of paper neces-
sary for the issuing of a daily journal and even a weekly
edition was difficult to obtain. What at first had appeared
as morning papers were changed to evening editions, as the
cost of candles, by which the compositors must work, had
risen in '63 to three and one -half dollars a pound. Our
brother, J. Withers Clay, who owned and edited the Con-
federate, turned peripatetic, and issued his paper where
he could, being obliged to keep shifting, printing para-
phernalia and all, with the movements of the army in
the Tennessee region. Writing us from Chattanooga, on
August 1 6, 1863, he thus described his life: ' I am living
in camp style. I mess with my office boys and our fare
is frugal. My bed is a piece of carpet, laid on a door, with
one end elevated on two bricks and the other resting on
the floor. I lay my blue blanket on this, and my bones
on that, with my head supported by my overcoat and
carpet sack, and cover myself with a Mexican scarf when
it is cool ! '
On the whole, our condition was almost like that of the
ancients who depended on passing travellers for gossip or
news of the welfare or whereabouts of friends or kin.
Thus my sister (by every tie of affection), writing from
Richmond in the spring of '64, said: "Have no idea
CONDITIONS IN i86 3 -'6 4
229
where you are, but send this letter by General Sparrow to
Macon, care of Mrs. Whittle. The last intelligence I had
of you was through Colonel Phillips. He told me he saw
you between Augusta and Macon somewhere."
Nor dared we avail ourselves of our telegraph wires, so
costly had the sending of a few lines become. For the
briefest message sent C. O. D. from Macon to Richmond,
my sister paid sixteen dollars and implored me to send
no more ! The chief resource of the people was the arrival
of the local train, at which time the railway stations
swarmed with inquirers on foot, hedged in by others as
eager, who had driven long distances in such vehicles as
were at their command.
My life was one of continual suspense, notwithstanding
the arrival of special couriers who came from time to time
from Richmond bearing tidings of my absent husband.
All lives that lie in close parallels to governments carry
heavy anxieties. Mine, in those days of strife and ter-
ror, was no exception to this general rule. As negotiator
at Niagara Falls with Professor Holcombe and others, the
eyes of the North as well as those of the South for months
had been fixed upon Mr. Clay, his interviews with Horace
Greeley and the messengers sent to him by Mr. Lincoln
having excited varying comments and criticisms that
were anything but reassuring. Our friends in Richmond,
however, wrote cheeringly:
. . . I hear occasionally of Mr. Clay," ran a letter from
the Executive Mansion, dated August 3ist, '64, "but for some
time past nothing has been received from him. The company
he keeps * as reported by the newspapers cannot render you
apprehensive of his being too happy to wish to return, though
your desire to be with him may have increased his probable want
of more congenial communion when the day's work is done. I
am assured that his health has improved by Canadian air, and
we may hope that he will bring back increased ability to labour
in the cause of the Confederacy, if it should not be his portion
* Horace Greeley.
230 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to relieve us of the need for further toil such as now is im-
posed. The carping spirit which prompted the criticism * on
his course would have found sufficient cause whatever he
might have done; or, if nothing had been done, that would
have served equally. No one can hope to please everybody.
You would not wish your husband to escape the reviling of
those who envy such as they cannot rival, and strive to drag
others down from the heights to which they cannot rise?"
Messages were numerous, urging my return to Rich-
mond, which our President and the Mallorys assured me
was the safest of places.
'Now that Sherman's barbarians are in unpleasant
proximity to you/' wrote Secretary Mallory, 'why not
come to the front where security, sympathy, mint juleps,
an admiring audience, the freshest gossip and the most
unselfish regard, all combine with the boom and flash of
guns to welcome your coming? The correspondence
between your lord and master and Holcombe on one side,
and Greeley on the other, is doing good service. The
parties, fragments, cliques and individuals in the United
States who desire peace, but differ upon the modus
operandi of getting it, will now learn that with Lincoln at
the head of affairs, no peace is possible ; while our weak
brothers in North Carolina and Georgia who have clam-
oured so loudly that peace propositions should be made to
us, cannot fail to see that, at present, peace with Lincoln
means degradation. I am very glad Mr. Clay went, for I
see that his presence must be beneficial to our cause.' 1
These, and other letters as urgent and as desirous of
quieting my apprehensions , came frequently. Neverthe-
less, my husband's stay in the severe climate of Canada
caused me constant apprehension. For months my only
direct news of him was through " personals," variously dis-
guised, in the Richmond papers, which Colonel Clay was
prompt to forward to me. Occasionally, however, one of
* Printed in Richmond Enquirer, and quoted liberally throughout the
North.
CONDITIONS IN i86 3 -'6 4 231
the numerous letters each endeavoured to send to the
other successfully reached its destination. ' It gives me
great pain," I wrote on November 18, '64, "to learn from
yours just received that none of my numerous letters
have reached you since the 3oth June ! I have sent you
dozens, my dearest, filled with all the news of the day, of
every character, and more love than ever filled my heart
before ! . . . My last intelligence of you was sent me
from Richmond through the bearer of despatches, I pre-
sume, and bore the date of September fifteenth, more than
two months ago ! '
In this letter, which was dated from Beech Island, I
conveyed intelligence to Mr. Clay of Senator Hammond's
death, he being, at the time, a few days less than fifty-
seven years of age. It occurred while all the affluent
colourings of the autumn were tingeing his world at " Red-
cliff e." The circumstances attending his decease and
burial were unique, and to be likened only to those which,
in mediaeval days, surrounded the passing away of some
Gothic baron or feudal lord. Mr. Hammond had been
failing in health for some time, when, feeling his end
drawing near, he asked for a carriage that he might drive
out and select his last resting-place. He chose, at last,
a high knoll, from which a fine view was to be had of
Augusta and the Sand Hills ; and, having done this, be-
ing opposed to private burial grounds, he bequeathed the
surrounding acres to the town in the precincts of which
his estate lay, on consideration that they turn the plot
into a public cemetery. First, however, he laid an in-
junction upon his wife and sons, that if the Yankee army
penetrated there (the end of the war was not yet, nor came
for six months thereafter), they should have his grave
ploughed over that none of the hated enemy should see it.
Again and again in the remaining days he reiterated
his wish. Fears were spreading of the approach of Sher-
man's devastating army, and the destruction of "Red-
232 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
cliff e," conspicuous as it was to all the surrounding coun-
try, seemed inevitable. Marvellous to relate, however,
when at last the spoiler came, his legions marched in a
straight line to the sea, some fourteen miles away from the
Hammond plantation, leaving it untouched by shell or
the irreverent hand of the invader.
The funeral of Mr. Hammond was solemn and made
especially impressive by the procession of two hundred of
the older slaves, who marched, two by two, into the
baronial parlors, to look for the last time upon their mas-
ter's face. Save for this retinue, 'Redcliffe' was now
practically without a defender, Mr. Paul Hammond being
absent much of the time, detailed upon home guard duty.
In his absence, my maid, Emily, and I kept the armory
of the household, now grown more and more fearful of
invasion with its train of insult and the destruction of
property. There were many nights when, all the rest in
slumber and a dead hush without, I waited, breathless,
until I caught the sound of Paul Hammond's returning
steps.
Just before the close of my refugee days on Beach
Island, a young kinsman, George Tunstall, who filled the
sublime post of corporal in Wheeler's Brigade in camp a
few hundred miles away, learning of my presence there,
obtained leave of absence and made his way, accompanied
by another youth, to Mrs. Hammond's to see me. The
two soldiers were full of tales of thrilling interest, of hair-
breadth escapes and camp happenings, both grave and
gay; and, rumours of Sherman's advance being rife, our
young heroes urged my cousin to take time by the fore-
lock and bury the family silver. "Redclirfe" being
almost in direct line of the Yankee general's march, the
advice seemed good, and preparations at once began to
put it into operation. Though there was little doubt of
the loyalty of the majority of the Hammond slaves, yet
it seemed but prudent to surround our operations with
GENERAL JOSEPH WHEELER
of Alabama
From a war-time photograph
CONDITIONS IN iS6 3 -'6 4 233
all possible secrecy. We therefore collected trie silver,
piece by piece, secreting it in " crocus" bags, which, when
all was ready, we deposited in a capacious carry-all, into
which we crowded. It was at early dusk when lurking
figures easily might be descried in corn-field or behind a
wayside tree by our alert eyes. Declaring to those of the
servants who stood about as we entered the carriage, that
we were taking some provisions to Mrs. Redd, much to
Lot's* surprise, we dispensed with a coachman, and drove
off. We had many a laugh as we proceeded through the
woods, at our absurdity in concealing our errand from
the family servants and in confiding our precious secret
to two of Wheeler's men. They had a terrible reputation
for chicken stealing, f
When we had driven a mile or more, Mr. Tunstall pro-
duced a hatchet and began to blaze the trees. " There !"
he said, after instructing us as to the signs he had made,
' when you come to where the blaze stops, you'll find your
valuables !" and under his directions the silver was silently
sunk in the ground and the earth replaced. J
Apropos of General Sherman, when a month or two
later I was in Macon, I heard a very excellent story. A
party of his men one day dashed up to the house of a Mrs.
Whitehead, a fine old lady (a sister of my informant), and
demanded dinner at once. The lady long since had
learned that resistance to such imperative demands would
be in vain, and preparations were at once begun for the
meal. Notwithstanding her obliging and prompt com-
* The family coachman.
t A gentleman in the War Department to whom I spoke of a violent
protest uttered against General Wheeler's confiscations, by one Betts
(who sent his complaint, long as a Presidential message, to Senator
Clay, in Richmond) smiled a little. ' Well," he said, "Wheeler always
would feed his men, you know!" A. S.
t Speaking of that episode, Mrs. Hammond said to me: "It was
months before we succeeded in finding the silver again. Though we
dug the ground over and over in every direction where we thought it
was, we couldn't even find the blazes for a long time." A. S.
234 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
pliance, the men immediately started a forage in the
poultry yard and the outhouses beyond. One of the
officers penetrated the servants' quarters, and entered a
cabin in which a young black woman lay sick.
" What's the matter, Sis ?" he asked, in a tone that was
meant to convey sympathy.
"Ain't no Sis of yourn !" was the sullen reply. "God
knows I ain't no kin to no Yankee 1" At that moment
an infant's cry was heard.
"Hello!" said the officer. "Got a little pickaninny,
hey? Boy or girl?"
"Boy chile! What's that ter you?" snapped the
woman.
"What's his name?" persisted the soldier.
"Name's Wheeler, dat's what 'tis!' answered the
invalid triumphantly, and the colloquy ended abruptly.
As the soldiers sat down to the table, some one, going to
the door, saw Wheeler's men come tearing down the road
flat on their horses. Instantly he shouted back to his
companions, 'Wheeler!" but they, believing the cry to
be a ruse, continued to eat. The sounds of the galloping
steeds soon became audible, however, and a stampede that
was highly amusing to the now relieved household took
place through doors and windows. When General
Wheeler arrived, he found a steaming repast already
prepared, and a cordial welcome from Mrs. Whitehead
and her family, including "Sis."
CHAPTER XVIII
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN
THE South was now sadly crippled. Our bulwarks
were demolished and our granaries emptied, our most
fertile valleys occupied by the Northern army, and Con-
federate money was depreciated to such an extent as
to make it practically useless.* Our army was thin-
ning daily, and even the news from Richmond, save
from Mr. Davis himself, seemed to carry an undertone
prophetic of coming collapse. "The enemy, yesterday
and to-day," wrote Mr. Mallory, from the capital, late in
October/' is, in the graphic gorillaisms, 'pegging away'
close at us ; and the flash of his guns is visible and their roar
was audible from my piazza yesterday. His approaches
have been very slow, to be sure, but nevertheless, he has
taken no step backward, but is 'inching' upon Richmond
surely and methodically in a way that seems as gopher-
like as it is certain ; and he will keep up this system unless
we can, by hard fighting, push him back."
Supported by the hope of Mr. Clay's return, and know-
ing he would seek me first among those of our kin who
were nearest to the coast, I lingered on Beech Island until
late in January, 1865, though I did so against the advice
of Colonel Clay, who urged me to go southward, and the
assurances of Mr. Davis that I might safely return to Rich-
* A cartoon which appeared about this time in a Richmond paper
was a graphic demonstration of the shrunk value of Confederate
money. It represented a man going to and returning from market.
In the first scene he carried a bushel basket piled high with current
bills; in the second, the basket was empty, and in his hand was an
infinitesimal package, which was supposed to contain a beef steak ! A. S.
235
if
236 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
mond, which city, the President was confident, would con-
tinue to prove an impregnable refuge. In the last days of
December two such messages, equally positive and each
positively opposed to the other in its significance, sped to
me by courier from the capital. Who was to decide when
such correspondents disagreed? Yet the need for some
move became more and more urgent. To return to
Hunts ville was out of the question. Northern Alabama
was overrun with Federal soldiers, to whom the name
alone of Clay, borne as it was by three men all actively
labouring for the preservation of the Confederate States,
was a challenge to the exercise of fresh authority. I
heard distressing news of the contemplated transportation,
to Nashville, of the aged ex-Governor Clay (our uncle, Mr.
McDowell, a non-combatant full of years, had already
died in that prison under most pitiful circumstances) , yet
I was powerless to send him even a line of comfort or
encouragement. Mail routes in every direction were in
possession of the enemy, or liable to be interrupted by
them, and straggling companies of Union soldiers were on
the lookout to intercept such messengers as might
attempt to bear our letters from point to point.
My husband was in Canada, or on the seas, I knew not
where; J. Withers Clay, the second son of the ex-Gov-
ernor, was active with pen and press in lower Alabama ;
Colonel Clay was stationed in Richmond in the thick of
the political battle. Our parents were left alone in the old
home, to brave the discomforts put upon them by their
sometimes cruel and sometimes merely thoughtless
oppressors. A grandson, Clement, a mere lad, but a hero
in spirit, venturing into the town to succour the old people,
was promptly arrested. "I wonder," wrote one who
visited our parents, " that their heartstrings have not long
since snapped ! '
All through the Tennessee Valley dejection was spread-
ing. " If Mr. Davis does not restore General Johnston to
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 237
the army of the Tennessee," wrote J. Withers Clay, : 'his
friends generally out here believe that he will never
recover his lost popularity, or be able to get back the
thousands of soldiers (now) absent without leave. I wish
you would tell the President this. You have no idea of
the extent of demoralisation among soldiers and citizens
produced by his persistent refusal to restore him ! '
For now several months I had been secretly tortured
by an indecision as to what course to pursue. Though
urged by a hundred generous correspondents to share
their homes (for I have ever been blessed by loyal friends) ,
I had a deepening conviction that my interests were de-
tached from all. I was homeless, husbandless, childless,
debarred from contributing to the comfort of my hus-
band's parents, and I chafed at my separation from
those to whom my presence might have proved useful.
As time went on, all deprivations and anxieties were
obscured by one consuming determination to join my
husband at all hazards; but, despite every effort toward
accomplishing this, I found myself swept helplessly
along by the strong currents of the times. My sole
means of communication with Mr. Clay was now through
occasional 'personals," which were published in the
Richmond Enquirer, cooperating with the New York
Daily News. One of these, which appeared early in
November, 1864, indicates the indecision and anxiety
which by this time was felt, also, by my husband in
his exile:
'To Honourable H. L. Clay, Richmond, Virginia. I
am well. Have written every week, but received no
answer later than the 3oth of June. Can I return at
once ? If not, send my wife to me by flag of truce, via
Washington, but not by sea. Do write by flag of truce
care John Potts Brown, No. 93 Beaver Street, New York.
Answer by personal through Richmond Enquirer and
New York News."
238 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
"I inclose you a 'personal' from Brother Clement,
published in yesterday's Enquirer," Colonel Clay wrote on
November n, 1864. "I consulted Mr. Mallory, Mr. Ben-
jamin and the President, and then sent him the following :
'Your friends think the sooner you return the better.
At the point where you change vessels you can ascertain
whether it is best to proceed direct or by Mexico. Your
wife cannot go by flag of truce. She is well. I send you
letters to-day by safe hands. H. L. C.' The reason why
the earliest return is advised is that the fleet off Wilming-
ton is not yet increased to the degree intended ; and dur-
ing the rough weather, before the hard winter sets in,
it is much easier for vessels to run the blockade. I
shall tell him that the statistics kept in the Export and
Import Office show five out of six vessels, inward and
outward bound, safely run the blockade, but that he
must himself consider the risk from what he learns after
reaching Bermuda."
Colonel Clay's prompt decision, such was my distracted
state of mind, by no means satisfied me. The sug-
gestion contained in my husband's words seemed feasible
to my courageous mind. I despatched a note of inquiry
at once to Richmond, begging Mr. Davis to write to Mr.
Seward to secure my safe passage by land to Canada.
I told him of my unrest, the increasing uncertainty that
prevailed in the neighbourhood of "Redcliffe," and
my desire to join my husband. The President's reply
was reassuring and full of the confidence which sus-
tained him to the end of the remaining days of the
Confederacy. "There is no danger in coming here
now/' ran his message from the capital, dated December
29, 1864. "When he (Mr. Clay) returns he will, of
course, visit this place, and can conveniently meet you
here." But, when I proposed to try to make my way to
this haven, Colonel Clay wrote excitedly, animated
by an anxiety as great as my own :
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 239
" Don't come to Richmond ! Don't send the President
letters or telegrams. He is in a sea of trouble, and has
no time or thought for anything except the safety of the
country. I fear the Congress is turning madly against
him. It is the old story of the sick lion whom even the
jackass can kick without fear. It is a very struggle for
life with him. I do not know that he has any reliable
friends in Congress, who will sustain him upon principle,
fearlessly and ably. He has less and less power to
intimidate his enemies, and they grow more numerous
every day. ... If he were preeminently gifted
in all respects, the present moment is perilous enough
to call forth all his energies no matter how great. . . .
Before this reaches you, you will have read my private
letter to Hammond, in regard to the military situation
in South Carolina and Georgia. I think as soon as Sherman
reduces Savannah, he will move promptly up the Savan-
nah River, and endeavour to capture Charleston by
taking it in reverse. That success would be a feather
in any general's cap. We cannot hope to make fight
on that river, I think, but must take the Edesto as our
line of defense. Now, look upon the map and you will
see that the whole of Beech Island lies between the
two rivers, and in the event Sherman moves up (as he
will do, to cut off supplies from Charleston and Virginia),
the South Carolina Railroad will fall within the line of
his advance. I only give you my personal opinion; for,
of course, no one can speak assuredly of Sherman's
intentions. If I am right, I think you had better move
in the direction of Alabama before there is any rush of
travel, and as soon as you can well do so. ... In
Alabama or western Georgia there will be plenty of
food; more, indeed, because of the inability to bring it
east of Augusta. I write to advise you to go as far
away from the line of the enemy's march as you can. .
I dare not look into the future, after Hood's
24 o v ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
battles in Tennessee, if the Yankee accounts are verified.
God knows we are pressed hard on every side by the
enemy, and have no wise counsellors to give proper
direction to our weak, erring efforts for independence.
Passion and prejudice and personal feelings govern in
many instances where patriotism should rule. Congress
is discussing questions of the smallest moment while the
Confederacy is in the grip of the Yankees struggling for
existence. ... I fear the pending attack upon
Wilmington will prevent Brother Clement from coming
in at the Port (if he should conclude not to go to Mexico)
for some time yet. Until the flotilla set sail from Fortress
Monroe I looked for him to come in about the last of this
month or the first of the next. Now I shall not know
when to expect him, for no vessels will attempt the
blockade there at Washington."
It now became apparent that to wait at our exposed
Island was no longer prudent. A family council was
called, and it was decided that, upon the first sign of a
suitable escort, I should make my way to Macon. I
had not long to wait. Within a few days we learned
of the presence of General Ho well Cobb in Augusta.
I wrote to him at once, telling him of my contemplated
exodus and of my desire to place myself under
his protection upon his return journey to his head-
quarters at Macon. He replied with the gallant cor-
diality which was ever a characteristic with him, and
which I think would never have deserted him even in
the midst of the roar of cannon:
"AUGUSTA, Georgia, January 21, 1865.
"My Dear Friend: ... I assure you that your threat
to cling to me like the old man of the sea to Sinbad is the
most agreeable threat that ever was made to me, and it shall
not be my fault if it is not executed. I am here under
orders from Richmond, which leave me in doubt whether I
am to remain a day, a month, or a year. My opinion is that
I will be ordered back to Macon in a very few days, and there
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 241
is no telling at what hour I may receive the order. To make
it certain, however, that I can give you timely notice, you
ought to be in Augusta. I am ready to receive the acceptable
trust and devote my best efforts to your comfort and happi-
ness. Very truly your friend,
" HOWELL COBB."
Early in February I arrived in Macon without mis-
adventure, and here, on February loth, my husband
joined me, having learned of my whereabouts from our
friends in Augusta.
Mr. Clay's experiences since leaving Nassau had been
exciting. The Rattlesnake, a hitherto skilful blockade
runner, on which he had taken passage, was bound for
Charleston ; but, finding an entrance at that port impos-
sible for the moment, she had crept cautiously up to
Wilmington, only to be obliged again to show her heels
to the wary and enlarged blockading fleet. After
numerous efforts to find a friendly harbour, the little ship,
reconnoitering about the South Carolinian coast, ran
aground four miles away from Fort Moultrie, grounded,
it was rumoured, by the pilot. Here the little craft, which
quickly became the target of the enemies' guns, was
abandoned, her timbers ablaze, while passengers and
crew, taking to the life-boats, bore with them such
baggage as might be gathered in their haste; and now,
to cap the climax of their disasters, the life-boats, too,
ran aground, and sailors and passengers were compelled
repeatedly to wade through the waves, which dashed
throat-high about them, in an effort to rescue the pieces
of baggage they had been able to save from the ship.
On that cold, blustery day in early February, in garments
saturated with brine, Mr. Clay was taken in a yawl to
Fort Moultrie, whence, ill from the exposure he had under-
gone, he was carried in a sail-boat to Charleston by the
Reverend Mr. Aldrich, an accidental visitor to the Fort.
By that kindly man he was put to bed and to sleep
242 > A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
under the stimulus of orange-leaf tea, while his
clothing and few rescued belongings were undergoing a
drying.
Upon awakening, Mr. Clay's first effort was to forward
to Richmond to the care of Colonel Clay, to be held
until his own arrival in the capital, a small hand-trunk
addressed to Judah P. Benjamin, and to General Lee,
his restored pet; his second, to find me. This accom-
plished, it was his intention to proceed at once to Rich-
mond, to deliver in person his State papers, the most
important of which he had carried in an oil-silk bag
suspended about his neck. To the complete frustration
of his plans, however, my hapless husband found the
railway route between Augusta, where he supposed
me to be, and Charleston, now effectually closed. It
was by a roundabout road, therefore, made partly by
carriage, that he reached the desired point on the seventh
of February, only to learn of my departure a few days
before under the escort of General Cobb. By the loth,
when Mr. Clay arrived at last in Macon, he had informed
himself of the grave plight of our armies, and of the
lamentable political differences existing in the capital,
to which Colonel Clay, in his letter to me, had alluded.
A few hurried conferences with General Cobb and others,
and together we took our departure for Richmond.
Everything which might become an impediment to the
rough travel that lay before us was dispensed with, even
my invaluable maid, Emily, being left behind at the home
of Major Whittle. We proceeded first to Washington,
Georgia, going, upon our arrival, to the home of General
Toombs, where was sojourning Mr. Stephens, our Vice-
President. The hearts of all were heavy as the gentle-
men conferred together upon the outlook of our country
and arms. Letters from Richmond which reached our
hands at this point were excited in tone, and added to
our apprehension and sorrow.
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 243
"On every side," wrote our sister, "the city rings with
the cries of Rachels weeping for their children !'
" Don't come to Richmond ! ' urged Colonel Clay, " [or]
if you think it necessary to come on, do so at once;
don't delay. Leave sister; don't undertake to bring her
in the present uncertain condition of the railroad con-
nections between here and the Georgia line. . . .
Our armies have been dwindling, until none is large
enough to withstand an attack in the open field. There
is a collapse in every department, and, worse than all,
there is an utter lack of confidence by the people, in the
administration, in Congress, and in the success of the
cause itself. . . . Campbell will go out. He cannot
see any benefit to be derived from his longer continuance
in office as the drudge of the War Department, especially
when the Treasury is bankrupt, and Congress cannot
devise a new scheme for reestablishing faith in the
currency. That department is $400,000,000 in arrears,
it is said. I know it is enormously in debt to the War
Department ($32,000,000), and that the Quartermaster
General and the Commissary General cannot obtain the
means to pay current expenses. If we cannot have
transportation and bread for the soldiers in the field, to
say nothing of clothing and pay, . . . what becomes
of our army? . . . As I see the present and argue
thence what the future has in store for us, ... I
see nothing but defeat and disaster and ruin ! '
Characterised throughout his life by a punctilious ob-
servance of everything which in his eyes appeared a duty,
Mr. Clay was not to be deterred by even such grave
news from carrying out his intention to deliver in person,
to the President and Mr. Benjamin, an account of his
stewardship in Canada. Late in February, therefore,
he resumed his journey, mounted upon General Toomb's
grey mare, and accompanied by the General's man,
Wallace. He had not proceeded far, however, when,
244 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
overtaken by an illness, the result of his exposure at
Charleston, he was obliged to return to Washington. A
month elapsed ere he was able again to set out for Rich-
mond, the city which was so soon to be the theatre of our
national collapse.
The roads now, in many places, were impassible.
The number of Union soldiers was increasing daily in the
States which Mr. Clay must cross in his northward journey.
My husband, with his precious documents, would have
been a rich prize to any who might have seized him.
Through many vicissitudes he made his cautious way
toward the capital, securing a horse, when he could, or a
mule team, or following the railroad tracks where neces-
sary. Much of the journey he made alone, but he
sometimes found himself in company, and that not always
wholly desirable. On one occasion he fell in with two
straggling Confederate soldiers, and, being near the
home of a distant kinsman, Robert Withers, upon the
arrival of the trio he asked Mr. Withers' hospitality for
them all. Consent was promptly forthcoming, but my
husband's feelings were somewhat less cordial toward
his whilom companions when one was allotted to him as
a bedfellow. ' Had to sleep with ," reads his diary,
; 'much to my dread of camp-itch !'
Eight days were consumed in that journey to the
capital, by this time the scene of an excitement truly
anarchistic. Mr. Clay was probably the last man in the
Confederate service to seek to enter Richmond. The
trend of Confederate travel just then was in an opposite
direction.
Making at once for Colonel Clay's headquarters, my
husband secured the trunk destined for Mr. Benjamin, to
whom he shortly afterward transferred his papers. The
transaction was a hurried one, and Mr. Clay pushed on
to the apartment of Mr. Davis. In after days I often
heard him describe the scene which there met him. He
THE DEATH OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 245
found the President engaged in hastily packing a valise,
his clothing and papers scattered in little heaps about. I
think he assisted his hapless friend in these preparations.
An hour or two later and Mr. Clay was en route for Dan-
ville, on the last of the over-laden trains to draw out
from the once dear but now desolated city. Of the sad
journey of the President through the Carolinas, with
his company of legislative friends, of which, for a portion
of the way, my husband was one, I remember no par-
ticulars. I recall a hasty return to Macon, where Mr.
Clay joined me, whence we hurried on in a few days to
the home of former Senator B. H. Hill, at Lagrange, in
western Georgia. The remembrance of the days that
immediately succeeded the evacuation of Richmond,
followed, as that event was, by the murder of Abraham
Lincoln, is a confused one. A kind of horror seized my
husband when he realised the truth of the reports that
reached us of this tragedy. At first he had refused to
credit them. 'It's a canard!' he said; but when, at
last, he could no longer doubt, he exclaimed: "God help
us ! If that be true, it is the worst blow that yet has
been struck at the South ! "
CHAPTER XIX
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS TO GENERAL WILSON
UPON leaving the home of General Toombs, we
proceeded directly to that of Senator Hill, where
shortly were gathered ex-Secretary of our Navy and
Mrs. Mallory, Mr. and Mrs. Semmes, of Louisiana,
and Senator Wigfall. We were an anxious circle,
our hearts heavy with the constantly increasing testi-
mony to our great disaster, and our minds alert to
measure the ways and means of our future course. My
husband and Mr. Wigfall had already determined to
seek the other side of the Mississippi, there to join the
gallant Kirby Smith, and make a last stand for our
cause ; or, if needs must be, to press on to Texas. Day by
day disturbing news reached us concerning the where-
abouts of Mr. Davis and his party, now making their
sorry flight toward the coast of Florida, fugitives from
the Federal authorities.
A Northerner would have found us a wonderful nest
of "' rebels," could he have looked in upon the group that
one evening surrounded the table in the library of the
Hill residence, upon which was spread the map of Georgia.
The gentlemen were seated, the ladies standing behind
them. Every eye was bent upon the road which our
host was pointing out.
"If Davis would take this route" and Mr. Hill's
finger traced the way upon the diagram before us, "if he
keeps to it without any detour whatsoever, he will get
away," he declared. " If he turns aside a step or lingers
an hour he is lost ! If he crosses the river there" and
246
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS 247
our host, who knew the topography of his State by heart,
paused as he marked the spot, "no one can take him!'
Not a member of that circle but was tense in his or
her desire that our chief should be spared the ignominy
and pain of capture. The magnanimity of Senator
Wigfall, whose antagonism to President Davis had
caused a profound concern in Richmond in this hour of
the Confederacy's downfall, was especially marked.
To the present, none of those assembled at the hos-
pitable Hill home had reason to apprehend a personal
danger from the conquering party. The meeting had
taken place at Appomattox which, more than victories
gained, has made the name of Grant immortal. The
Northern General had received the proffer of Lee's sword,
and peace had been proclaimed. By the terms made we
had some little reason to be optimistic as to our future,
despite the peopling of our Southern cities with Union
soldiers. The developments of one fateful day, however,
unveiled to us the actual perils we were yet to face.
As I have said, my husband and Mr. Wigfall had
practically completed their arrangements to leave La-
grange and strike for the Mississippi. It was my ex-
pectation, thereupon, to return to our parents' home in
Huntsville. The day agreed upon for my departure ap-
proached. At the request of my husband, I drove to the
cars to ascertain what currency would be required to
take me to Macon, whence I was to proceed at once to
Alabama. In company with Henrietta Hill and her
little brother, I drove to the station in time to see the
afternoon train pull in. As it swept into the city with a
shrill scream, it was crowded with men and women of
both races; so overcrowded, rather, that many clung to
the platforms. There were shouts and a general Babel,
which I did not understand, and, as debarkation began,
to these was added the bedlam of drunken laughter.
When as near to the cars as the carriage would permit, I
248 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
directed Benny Hill to go forward to the conductor and
ask " What currency is needed to get to Macon ? '
The man seemed to understand that I had prompted
the question, and called to me, "Gold or greenbacks,
Madam ? ' Then, not waiting for my reply, he hastened
to add the news, 'Macon has been surrendered by
General Howell Cobb to the Federals, General Wilson
commanding. Atlanta, as you know, is in the hands of
the Yankees, Colonel Eggleston in charge !'
This was disappointing news to me, as I had but little
gold and a peck of Confederate paper, which was not
likely to carry me far under reported conditions. I
waited until the crowd had thinned out somewhat, and
then questioned the man further.
" Is there any other news than that of the proclama-
tion for Mr. Davis's arrest?' I asked. His reply
astounded me.
"Yes, Madam!' he said; "$100,000* is offered for
Clement C. Clay, of Alabama." A trembling seized me.
I don't know how I made my way to the carriage. Before
I was fairly seated I saw Colonel Philip Phillips, at this
time a resident of Lagrange, coming toward us. In his
hands he held a journal. Quickly reaching the carriage,
he handed me the paper, and, pointing to the despatch,
which contained the proclamation, he said, 'Go home
quickly and give this to Mr. Clay ! '
Scarcely aware of what I did, I ordered the coachman
to drive back at once, forgetting in the excitement of the
moment to invite the Colonel to accompany me. Arriv-
ing at the Hill residence, I met my hostess almost at the
door.
'Please ask the gentlemen to come to us!" I said
* The actual amount offered for Mr. Clay's apprehension was
$25,000; but, in the dissemination of the proclamation through the
press, the larger sum was repeatedly given as the amount offered
being so quoted by General Wilson and others. See Records of the
Rebellion, series I, vol. XLIX, page 733.
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS
249
faintly, "I have important news !' and I hastened
upstairs.
I found Mr. Clay sitting quietly, deep in the conning of
a thick volume. It was Burton's "Anatomy of Melan-
choly," ever a favourite with him. It lay open on his
knee, steadied with one hand; the other, as was a habit
with my husband, was stroking his beard, absent-
mindedly. Before I could summon my voice to utter
the terrible news, the others of the party had hastened
upstairs. Handing the fatal paper to Senator Hill, I
cried, half -hysterically, 'For God's sake, read that!'
As Mr. Hill read the proclamation aloud, everyone was
silent. Senator Semmes was the first to break the silence
that followed the reading.
"Fly for your life, Clay !" he said, "The town is full
of men from two disbanded armies, any of whom would
be tempted by such a sum. Take no chances ! ' Then
all at once everyone but my husband began to talk ex-
citedly. As the meaning of the despatch broke upon
him, Mr. Clay blanched a moment, but at Mr. Semmes 's
urgings he spoke.
'Fly?' he said, slowly, like one recovering from a
blow, 'from what?' Mr. Semmes's answer came drily.
' From death, I fear ! " he said. My husband turned
inquiringly to the others. Secretary Mallory, seeing
the unspoken question in his face, answered it.
' I don't know what to say, Clay ! One hundred
thousand dollars is a glittering bribe to half-starved
soldiers ! ' He had scarcely spoken when a knock was
heard. Alarmed by the thought that some renegade
was already come to arrest my husband, I flew to the
door and locked it. As I did so, Senator Hill was beside
me, and I remember the forceful feeling with which he
spoke, even as the click of the key sounded.
"By the eternal God, Clay!" he said. "The man
who dares cross my threshold to arrest you, falls on it."
250 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Fortunately our fears were groundless, for in a moment
we heard the word, "Phillips!' and, upon opening the
door, the Colonel quickly entered. His calm bearing
was a relief to us. Some one at once put the question
to him, "What do you think Clay ought to do?'
" What does Mr. Clay think he should do ? " was Colonel
Phillips 's reply. My husband was prompt to answer:
"As I am conscious of my innocence, my judgment is
that I should at once surrender to the nearest Federal
authorities ! " he said.
At this announcement I could not restrain my sobs.
I doubt not I troubled him much by my tears and plead-
ings. I begged him hysterically to fly ; I would join him
anywhere if he would but escape. But my ever patient
husband only answered, as he tried to calm me, " Virginia !
my wife! Would you have me fly like an assassin?"
I could say no more, but only listen, between the
crowding fears and terrors that seized me, while those
about discussed the wording of a telegram which, a short
time afterward, Colonel Phillips carried to the telegraph
office. It ran thus:
"Bt. Major-General Wilson, United States Army: Seeing
the proclamation of the President of the United States, I go
to-day with the Honourable P. Phillips, to deliver myself to
your custody. C. C. CLAY, Jr."
I think this resolute act, and the preparation of a
letter which was immediately written to the same general,
relieved my husband, for he was instantly calmer. For
myself, I felt that he had signed his own death warrant.
During the succeeding hours, the entire household was
in consultation. Having decided to proceed to Macon
by the early train the next morning, Mr. Clay retired and
slept, to my surprise, as peacefully as a child, though I,
less fortunate, watched and wondered at his calmness.
Early the following morning we left Lagrange, ac-
companied by , Colonel Phillips. The world appeared
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS 251
very strange and worthless to me as the train hastened on
to Atlanta, where a change of cars was necessary. We
found that city a pandemonium; soldiers patrolling the
streets, drums beating, and vans, loaded with furniture,
moving up and down the avenues. In our desire to
proceed as rapidly as possible we accosted a soldier.
'Where is Colonel Eggleston?" Colonel Phillips asked.
' There he is, within ten feet of you ! ' was the reply.
The Colonel thereupon approached the officer in com-
mand and said to him, "I have a distinguished friend
here, Mr. Clement C. Clay, of Alabama, who is on his
way voluntarily to surrender himself."
On hearing my husband's name, Colonel Eggleston
approached us and held out his hand, saying: "Is it
possible, Mr. Clay, you are the man who is making such
a stir in the land ? I am not surprised at your surrender.
I knew your record through my Senators, Pugh and
Pendleton, of Ohio. You've done the right thing, sir,
and I hope you'll soon be a free man."
Mr. Clay, surprised at the Federal Colonel's magna-
nimity, turned and presented him to me. He extended
his hand. I took it. It was the first Yankee hand I
had touched since we had left Minnesota, four years before.
The Colonel assured us it was impossible for us to proceed
that night to Macon. "It will be best for you," he said,
' to spend the night at the Kimball House. But the city
is in a tumult, and, as Mrs. Clay is with you, I will have
a guard that you may not be disturbed." When we were
ready to retire, two soldiers appeared, with muskets in
hand, and took their stand, one at each side of our
chamber door, where they remained until the next
morning.
Shortly after breakfast, Colonel Eggleston presented
himself. His manner was courteous. "As times are so
turbulent," he said, " I think it best that I should detail a
guard to accompany you to Macon; that is," he added,
252 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
"unless you object." Upon Mr. Clay's assurance that
the guard would not be unpleasant to us, the General
presented Lieutenant Keck, a young officer, who, during
the conversation, had been standing near. Thereupon
the Lieutenant attached himself to our party and we
boarded the car for Macon. Throughout the trip our
guard behaved with undeviating consideration, and this,
under trying circumstances; for, the wires flashing the
news about the country, many of the stations along the
road were crowded with friends, who, when they saw
us, uttered expressions of intensest regret, even urging
my husband to fly. On more than one occasion, so
considerate was Lieutenant Keek's conduct, that he
allowed Mr. Clay to leave the car, unguarded.
During that journey the young officer addressed me
but twice ; the first time to offer me a glass of water, and
the second to tell me a piece of news that shocked me in
double force. As we approached Macon, my husband had
endeavoured to prepare me for whatever the future
might hold for us. He was a prisoner, he said, and
though self -surrendered, I must not be alarmed if we
should find a phalanx of soldiers waiting us at the depot.
The picture thus conjured had already made me sick at
heart, when my husband, excusing himself, went forward
into the next car for a few moments. A short time after-
ward Lieutenant Keck appeared. Approaching me he
said, with some hesitation, 'Mrs. Clay, I have some sad
news for you !'
My husband's previous words suddenly rushed over me.
He had been preparing me for something he knew but
dared not tell me ! In a moment, in my mind's eye, I
saw a gibbet. "Great God,' ! I cried. "What is it?
Will they hang my husband ? '
' Don't be frightened, Mrs. Clay," our guard answered.
'Don't cry! Your chief was arrested yesterday!'
"My chief," I echoed. "You mean General Lee?"
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS 253
"No !" was his response, "Mr. Davis ! He is now at
the Lanier House, in Macon ! ' The loosening of the
tension to which I first had been keyed was so great that
I was scarcely able to utter a comment, nor had I re-
covered from the shock when the train pulled into
Macon. Notwithstanding my husband's brave counsels,
the news of Mr. Da vis's arrest added a hundredfold to
our depression. When I told Colonel Phillips and Mr.
Clay, who shortly returned, my husband's face grew
graver. "If that is true," he said, "my surrender was
a mistake. We shall both perish !'
In an indistinct way I felt my husband to be right;
and surely after events demonstrated how nearly truly
he had prophesied. The almost instantaneous appearance
of Mr. Clay and Mr. Davis as prisoners produced a con-
fusion in the press statements and telegrams that flew
over the country, and coloured the feeling of the public to
such an extent that those in high places who were seeking
sacrificial victims were enabled, without exciting a
protest, to overlook the fact that Mr. Clay, scorning
arrest, had confidently and voluntarily committed him-
self into the Government's hands, to court its fullest
investigation. 'The arrest of Clement C. Clay," was the
heading under which my husband's courageous act was
buried in so far as it might be ; and so generally was the
fact of his voluntary surrender overlooked, that a South-
ern historian, whose books have been circulated among
schools, took up the phrase and incorporated it among
the ' ' historic ' facts which children con.
Arrived at Macon, we found a single transfer wagon at
the station. To this we were conducted, and our party
of four, with our grips and valises, completely filled the
vehicle. As we drove away from the station I felt much
as must have felt the poor wretches in the French Revolu-
tion as they sat in the tumbrels that bore them to the
guillotine.
254 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
We drove at once to the residence of our friends,
Colonel and Mrs. Whittle, whence Colonel Phillips pro-
ceeded to General Wilson's headquarters to deliver my
husband's letter announcing his surrender. It was a
beautiful afternoon. The trees were in full foliage and
the air delicious with sweet odours of Southern blossoms.
Dusk was approaching as, without previous announce-
ment, we drove up to the Whittle home. The family
were seated on the veranda. With them was our
brother, J. Withers Clay. As they recognised us they
rushed down the steps to meet us, full of eager questioning.
'What does it mean?' they cried. "Why have you
come here?' and every eye was full when my husband
answered, 'I have surrendered to the United States
Government. Allow me to present my guard, Lieutenant
Keck!" Never shall I forget how dear Mrs. Whittle
(who was slightly deaf), with eyes full of tears, reached
out her hand to that representative of our triumphant
antagonists, as if, by a forbearing kindness, she would
bespeak his favour for my husband.
As we entered the house, we were all in tears, and
Colonel Phillips, glad of an excuse to leave the painful
scene, hastened to deliver his message to the General in
command. Returning in the course of an hour, he
reported General Wilson as approving Mr. Clay's course.
He sent word that he was awaiting instructions in regard
to Mr. Davis's party, "Whom, I presume, you will
accompany. Meanwhile, I request that you will not
talk of the surrender!' He further directed that
Lieutenant Keck be sent immediately to him. I think
this young soldier had a tender heart, for, seemingly
touched at our sorrowful situation, he lingered about a
moment as if unwilling to leave us without a farewell.
Seeing his hesitation, I offered him my hand and thanked
him for his humane treatment of my husband, which, I
assured him, I should ever remember. If his eyes, or
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS 255
those of others to whom he was dear should see this
acknowledgment they will know I did not speak lightly.
General Wilson's request was scrupulously observed
by us, and though friends came in numbers to sympathise
with us and encourage us, we were silent on the forbidden
topic of my husband's surrender. A day or two later,
word came that we must hold ourselves in readiness to
leave Macon. Meantime, I had addressed a note to
General Wilson, begging that I might be allowed to
accompany my husband on his journey to his desti-
nation, wherever it might be. The Commanding
General promptly acceded to my request, though, he
assured me, the trip before us would be a rough and
disagreeable one, and advised me to consider well before
I took it.
Of course, I was not to be deterred. I made instant
preparation for the journey. My available wardrobe was
small, being limited to a few Perodi's (which in those
days served the same purpose as the shirt-waist of 1900)
and a rusty black skirt, a veritable war-relic; but my
friends in Macon, knowing the impossibility of getting
my own possessions together, quickly came to the rescue.
The results of their generosity were not in all cases strictly
what donor or recipient might have wished, from the
point of view of fashion or art. For example, Mrs. Lucius
Mirabeau Lamar sent me a treasured foulard silk gown,
of a pretty brown and white pattern ; but she, being both
shorter and stouter than I, the fit was not one that even
the deliberately courteous would have ventured to call
a good one; nevertheless, I received it gratefully and
courageously adapted it to serve as travelling attire.
Mrs. William D. Johnston, too, sister of our loved General
Tracy, likewise urged a gift upon me of several changes
of Parisian lingerie, which she had but just acquired.
With this borrowed finery (which afterward carried its
own penalty) stowed in my valise, when the announce-
256 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
ment of the time appointed for our departure came to us,
it found me ready.
It was set for the late afternoon. We arrived at the
railway station a half-hour before train time. At the
last, we hastened away from the friends whose sorrow
and sympathy threatened to disturb the composure it
was so necessary to preserve against our coming ordeals.
We were surprised to find the city in a kind of uproar.
Cavalry clattered through the streets and gazing sight-
seers thronged the sidewalks. Our passage to the station
proceeded without mishap or adventure of any kind ;
nevertheless, we had scarcely alighted from our carriage
when, looking back, up the street we saw a company of
cavalrymen approaching. There was an increasing activ-
ity in the gathered crowds, which were composed of silent
citizens of Macon, elbowed by Freedmen and Union
soldiers, who lounged among them.
As the cavalry approached the station, the significance
of the scene became plain to us. They were a guard,
flanking on each side an old 'jimber-jawed, wobble-
sided" barouche, drawn by two raw-boned horses. In the
strange vehicle were seated Mr. and Mrs. Davis. Mr.
Davis was dressed in a full suit of Confederate grey,
including the hat, but his face was yet more ashen than
was his garb. Behind them, completing the pitiful cor-
tege, came a carryall, in which were Miss Howell, the
Davis little ones and nurses; and, as the procession
drove by, the alien and motley crowd along the walks
yelled and hooted in derision. But not all one
heartless Union soldier tried the patience of a sorrowful
1 1 rebel' ! onlooker.
" Hey, Johnny Reb," shouted the first, " we've got your
President ! "
"And the devil's got yours !" was the swift reply.
As the procession arrived at the station, two soldiers
approached Mr, and Mrs, Davis, and escorted them at
C. C. CLAY, JR., SURRENDERS 257
once to the cars. The interest of everyone for the
moment being centred on the party of the late President,
my excitement grew. Wild thoughts filled my mind. I
could not restrain them. " Oh ! if they would only forget
you ! " I said impetuously, to my husband. Alas ! scarcely
had I uttered the words when two guards approached.
"This is Mr. Clay, I presume?" and with a hasty farewell
to our kind friends, the Whittles, we were soon aboard the
cars.
As we entered, Mr. Davis rose and embraced me.
'This is a sad meeting, Jennie !" he said, as he offered
me a seat beside him, for Mrs. Davis and my husband,
already deep in conversation, had established themselves
nearby. As I seated myself I became aware that the car
had filled up with soldiers. I heard the doors slam, and
the command, " Order arms ! " and in the dull thud of their
muskets as the butts struck the floor, I realised for the
first time that we were indeed prisoners, and of the nation !
CHAPTER XX < V
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES
DAWN found us haggard and ill. Our night ride to
Augusta was a fatiguing one. Of our party, only the chil-
dren slept. The air in the car was of the foulest, and the
discomforts of the trip were consequently most trying to
our invalids, of whom there now were three Mr. Davis,
Mr. Clay, and our venerable Vice-President, Mr. Stephens,
we having taken the latter aboard during the night ; also,
our late Postmaster-General Reagan, ex-Governor Lub-
bock, and General Wheeler and staff. Nor were we again
permitted to leave the car until our arrival in Augusta.
Telegraphic orders having been sent ahead for our meals,
these were brought to the train and eaten en route.
Upon our arrival in Augusta, I asked Colonel Pritchard
for the privilege of driving in the carriage assigned to us to
the home of a beloved friend, Mrs. George Winter. Upon
my promise that at the hour appointed I would be
responsible for Mr. Clay's appearance on the boat which
was to take us to Savannah, Colonel Pritchard gave a
somewhat reluctant consent and we drove rapidly away.
As had been the case in Macon and Atlanta, the town was
in commotion. This visit to our friends was almost an
error ; for, greatly excited at our appearance among them,
they embraced us in hysterical alarm, and begged my hus-
band even yet to fly. To add to the distress, neighbouring
friends, hearing of our presence, hastened in and joined
their pleadings to those of our hostess. The scene was
unendurable to Mr. Clay, and, literally tearing ourselves
from their embraces, we re-entered the carriage. The
258
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 259
horses heads were turned at once toward the river where
our custodians awaited us. Arrived there, though I
cannot admit that it was our intention or impulse to board
the boat with a fond alacrity, our embarkation was not
without a misleading appearance of- eagerness. The bank
of the river was both steep and slippery, and, notwith-
standing I was assisted in my descent by two officers, my
approach was neither stately nor awe-inspiring. In fact,
it was precipitate, and I found myself, most unexpectedly,
in the arms of a soldierly little figure in undress uniform
who stood close to the crude gang-plank. As I opened my
lips to apologise for my unexpected onslaught, he turned
and raised his hat. It was "little Joe ! '
An episode of that trip in connection with General
Wheeler fixed itself indelibly in my mind. I was in con-
versation with this hero on one occasion, during which he
leaned against the side of the boat in a half -recumbent
position. Presently a young officer, rude in the display
of 'his brief authority," approached us, and rapping
General Wheeler sharply with his sword, said, 'It is
against the rule to lean on the guard-rail ! '
To my amazement, our hero, who had fought so nobly
against his peers and whose name alone had been a menace
to his foes, merely touched his hat and said quietly, " I did
not know the rule, sir, or I would not have infringed it."
I was thrilled with admiration.
' General ! " I exclaimed, " you have taught me a lesson
in self-control and courtesy I can never forget ! Had I
been a man, that Yankee would have been exploring the
bottom of the Savannah River, or I, one ! '
The discomforts to which we had been subjected during
our journey to and from the headquarters of General Wil-
son culminated in the wretched little craft on which we
now were. Not a chair was in the cabin for our invalids,
nor an available couch. For Mr. Davis, who suffered in-
tensely during the trip from pain in his eye (for years a
2 6o " ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
chronic disability) , two valises were stacked one on top of
the other, being the nearest approach to a seat it was possi-
ble to improvise. On these he rested during much of the
journey, Mrs. Davis, Miss Howell or myself in turn acting
as support in lieu of a chair-back. From time to time we
bathed his temples with cologne in vain attempts to
lessen his tortures.
Our journey from Savannah may best be pictured by
reference to my pocket-diary, carried throughout those
momentous weeks. We boarded the William P. Clyde on
the fifteenth of May, our destination still unknown to us,
as we steamed out into the Atlantic. These are some of
the brief records I made of ship and passengers :
"May 1 6, 1865. William P. Clyde is a brig-rigged steamer,
quite comfortable. The Fourth Michigan is with us, and an
armed convoy, the Tuscarora, escorts us. Her guns bear
directly upon us, day and night. Fears are entertained of
the Stonewall or Shenandoah. My husband keeps well and
heroic. God in mercy give us grace for the fiery ordeal."
"May i yth. Fairly at sea, and considerable fear of the
Stonewall evinced by the ship's crew. All the axes of the
vessel are removed from their usual positions to the Colonel's
room. Mrs. Davis sent ashore for oranges for Miss Howell,
who is ill. Poor girl!"
["It was Mr. Davis who called my attention to the removal
of the battle-axes. 'Cowards!' he said, 'They're afraid of
this handful of Confederate men !' "]
"May 19. Nearing Fortress Monroe. We are boarded
by Captain Fraley, Commander of the Tuscarora, the man-of-
war which has been our escort, her guns bearing directly on
us from Hilton Head. The Captain called on Mr. and Mrs.
Davis, and husband and myself, and renewed an acquaintance
of former years. He proffered any attentions in his power.
Just to our left is seen Fort Calhoun, built by Mr. Davis,
while Secretary of War. . . ."
"May 20. Anchored off Fort Monroe awaiting orders.
General Halleck to arrive on board at n A. M. I sadly
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 261
fear they will land my darling at this fort. God forbid ! In
sight are many vessels, some bearing the English and some
the French flags. The fort presents the same appearance
as years ago, when I went to visit the spot. One week this
day since we bade adieu to friends. Two days have we
been anchored. General Halleck said to be on Tuscarora."
"May 21. Last night at dark a tug was hailed. She
replied, ''General Halleck !' ; She was alongside in a few
moments with orders which were quickly known. Governor
Lubbock, Colonel Johnston and General Wheeler and staff
left at six this A. M. for Delaware. At ten, Mr. Stephens and
Judge Reagan were put aboard the Tuscarora for Fort Warren.
Mr. Stephen's servant detained. We are still in doubt, but
Monroe is probably our destination."
"May 22. Mr. Davis, Mr. Clay and Burton Harrison are
all left ! Preparations are going on at Fortress Monroe for
them, 'tis said. Colonel Pritchard says I will not be allowed
to land or go to Washington or Baltimore or abroad ! ! !
Terrible firing from a man-of-war ! '
'May 23. Wrote letter to Judge Holt, and note to General
Miles. At ten we were boarded by Major Church, and two
Yankee women and four guards, and all hands, luggage,
berths and persons thoroughly searched. A 'comico-
serio-tragico ' scene ! Sailors our friends. Both nurses leave.
Mrs. Davis's [man] Robert only left."
Our journey on the Clyde, though sorrowful, apprehen-
sive as we were concerning the fate to which the prisoners
were being led, was otherwise uneventful. Mr. Davis
was exceedingly depressed, and moved restlessly about,
seeming scarcely ever to desire to sit down. Always an
intellectual cosmopolite, however, he made observations
on the natural phenomena about us, commenting from
time to time on the beauty of sea or sky. Our meals,
which were served at a table reserved for the prisoners,
by no means represented the fare of the coastwise steam-
ers of to-day, but few of us were in a mood to take note of
culinary deficiencies,
2 6 2 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
On the morning of May 22d a sultry, drizzling rain
fell. It was a day exactly calculated to induce melan-
choly even in the stoutest-hearted. To us, eagerly alert
to learn what we might of our fate, it was unspeakably
distressful. Shortly after breakfast my husband came
quietly into our stateroom. "There is no longer any
doubt," he said, "that this fort is the one destined for
Davis and me ! I have just been notified that we are
expected to take a ride on a tug. I am convinced we shall
be taken to Fortress Monroe. I can't imagine why they
do not come out boldly and tell us so, but be sure this is
our farewell, my wife ! ' We took leave of each other in
our stateroom, nor did I leave it to follow Mr. Clay to the
deck. I stood, instead, at the fourteen-inch window of
my cabin, alone with my thoughts.
As Mr. Davis passed the aperture, he stopped for" a
second to say good-bye to me, then he, too, disappeared.
A few moments passed, and then the weeping of children
and wailing of women announced the return of the stricken
family. I heard a soldier say to Mr. Davis's little son,
" Don't cry, Jeff. They ain't going to hang your pa ! '
and the little fellow's reply, made through his sobs.
" When I get to be a man," he cried, "I'm going to kill
every Yankee I see ! '
When the child approached my door and I caught him
in my arms and tried to cheer him, his resentment quickly
changed to a manly tenderness ; and, putting his baby lips
up for a kiss, he said, "My papa told me to keep care of
you and my Mamma ! '
I referred in my diary to the serio-comic incidents of
the search of our party. The event occurred early in the
morning of the day following that of my husband's
removal. While gazing sadly across the waters toward
the grim fort, I espied what seemed to be a pretty shallop,
dancing lightly over the waters, in which were seated two
women, brightly dressed. The little vessel seemed to be
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 263
making for the Clyde. When I observed this, I called Mrs.
Davis's attention to the approaching party, saying,
" Thank God ! Here, I do believe, are two Virginia ladies
come to give us some comfort."
In a few moments one of our unknown visitors was at
my cabin door. In my eagerness to meet a friendly face,
I had almost extended my hand, when something in the
appearance of the person before me struck me as peculiar.
My surprise and curiosity was soon relieved, for my visitor
said glibly, ' We've been sent by the Government to see
if you have any treasonable papers on board !" I looked
at her in amazement.
' Is it possible," I asked, "that the United States Gov-
ernment thinks we are such simpletons as to have carried
treasonable papers aboard this ship?" My indignation
grew.
' I frankly confess that if I could sink the whole Yankee
nation in Hampton Roads I would do so ; but carry valua-
ble papers here ? Pshaw !" and I turned away from her,
full of contempt.
It was a hot, sultry day ; one of those May days when
the sun strikes the water vertically, and even breathing
becomes a fatiguing effort. Despite the weather, the
women who had thus unexpectedly presented themselves
were greatly overdressed. Each wore an immense
chignon on the back of her head, and was rouged and
powdered and befrizzed to an extent that was altogether
unusual in ordinary circles. Bustles of the largest size,
high-heeled shoes, conspicuous stockings, and as freely
revealed gay petticoats completed the gaudy costumes of
these remarkable agents of the Government. The person
who had addressed me entered my cabin and proceeded
to strip the pillow-case from the by no means immaculate
pillow. She shook and felt carefully each article of bed-
ding; then opened my valise and as minutely examined
every article of borrowed finery therein. She commented
264 " A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
on their quality as she did so, but I speedily put an end
to this. " Proceed with your work, Madam ! " I said, and
I turned from the unpleasant sight before me.
As she emptied my gripsack, I heard her utter a half-
shriek of alarm.
" Oh ! " she cried, " you have a pistol ! '
" Of course I have," I said, complacently reaching for it
and taking it in my hand ; and, a spirit of mischief seizing
me (it has often been my salvation), I twirled the alarming
firearm in the air, taking care that the barrel should
fall pointing toward her, saying, as I did so, ' You may
take everything in the stateroom but this. If necessary,
I shall use it ! ' As I marked the effect of my words, her
shrinking and ejaculations of fear amused me more and
more, nor did she resume her work until, tired of the
farce, the pistol was once more safely bestowed in my bag.
When she renewed her search, her manner was somewhat
more timid.
Upon completing the overhauling of my belongings
she turned to me. " Will you please take off your dress,
Madam ?" she said. My answer was forceful and prompt.
1 1 will not ! If you wish it taken off, you may disrobe
me ! ' And I added, in my indignation, "I've heard that
white maids are as good as black ones ! '
And now the comedy moved rapidly. The lady
began by taking off my breastpin and my collar. She
unfastened my bodice and removed it, examining every
seam with a microscopic care. She then proceeded to
remove my clothing piece by piece, submitting each to
the same scrupulous examination. Coming at last to
my stays, she attempted to unclasp them.
The situation was so amusing I could not resist the
growing desire to accentuate it. I have alluded to the
prevailing sultry weather. In the close little cabin,
the heat was scarce bearable. Already perspiration
was trickling in streams down the cheeks of my unwel-
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 265
come visitor. Smiling within myself as the lady came
forward to remove the last-named garment, I took a
full, deep breath and held it, expanding my form to the
very utmost, tightening my clothing for the time being
to such an extent that I think she could scarcely
have pried open the garments with hammer and chisel.
The efforts of my tormentor (?) were entertaining.
Every now and then between a straining on my part and
a futile tugging on hers, she would run out of the cabin,
fanning herself and gasping to the guards, "Oh! I am
nearly dead!'
At first, I utilised these intervals 'to gird on my
armour ' : still tighter; but, at last, when I was myself
almost exhausted from holding my breath, I relaxed and
allowed her to proceed. By the time her examination
of my apparel and belongings was completed, the lady's
face was striped, and the path of the perspiration, wend-
ing its way through layers of cosmetics, had quite de-
stroyed her erstwhile dazzling appearance; but though
I, too, was almost fainting from the heat, and would
gladly have been left alone, my determination to tease
her was by no means appeased. I, therefore, demanded
that, having undressed me, the lady complete her work
and put my clothing on again. This, with various
delays, amusing and otherwise, she at last accomplished,
much to her satisfaction if not wholly to mine. Once
rehabilitated, I stepped to Mrs. Davis 's stateroom, mine
being between those of Mrs. Davis and Miss Howell. I
found the former in tears and reduced to the lightest of
deshabille. I tried to comfort her, but she still wept,
saying :
" Oh, 'Ginie ! What humiliation ! "
'But I would die before they should see me shed
tears!' I declared.
"Ah, you haven't four little children about you,"
said Mrs. Davis. Nor did this search end the trials that
a
u
2 66 - A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
befell us while we lay in Hampton Roads. Upon leaving
my stateroom the following morning I met Mrs. Davis,
baby Winnie in arms. She was greatly agitated.
What has happened?' I asked.
That man!' she replied, pointing to an officer near
by, "has come to take away my shawl. It's the last
wrapping I have ! He declares it is part of Mr. Davis's
disguise !'
"You're not going to let him have it?' I asked, my
indignation rising at once.
"What can I do?" asked Mrs. Davis, wringing her
hands.
"Tear it into shreds as fine as vermicelli!" I cried,
"and throw it into Hampton Roads!"
As I spoke the officer stepped toward us. Raising his
hand and shaking his finger in my face, he asked, threat-
eningly, " You dare counsel resistance, Madam?'
"Yes!" I retorted, returning the finger-shaking, "To
the shedding of blood, and I'll begin with you !'
The scene must have been a ludicrous one to all save
the two participants. Mrs. Davis's spirits certainly
rose in contemplating it, for, as the officer strutted off,
his sword dragging at his side, she smiled as she said,
" Puss-in-boots ! ' In a second, however, her anxiety
returned.
"What shall we do?" she asked. "He will surely
come back for the shawl." Bent upon foiling him, I
quickly suggested an expedient.
"My shawl," I said, "is almost a counterpart of yours.
Let's fold them both up and make him guess which is
which. Perhaps he'll take mine!" and we laughed
heartily at the device.
It was not long ere Lieutenant Hudson returned, this
time with another shawl, a coarse thing such as the small
stores nearby afforded. Upon his repeated demand we
complacently handed him Mrs. Davis's shawl and mine.
PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 267
To our amazement he took them both. Then, as the old
saying puts it, we 'laughed on the other side of our
faces." For, by the aid of one of Mrs. Davis's former
maids, Lieutenant Hudson was enabled to identify Mrs.
Davis's shawl, which he retained, returning mine. The
first, for many years, was preserved among the curios of
the Smithsonian Institution.
During the morning of the day made memorable by
the visit of the Government's searching party, General
Miles and his staff boarded the Clyde. It was my first
meeting with the handsome young officer who was
destined to incur so much odium in the near future for
his treatment of the unfortunate ex-President of the
Confederate States. I can recall no particulars of that
first meeting with my husband's jailor, save that he and
his staff made an impressive group as they stood bowing
respectfully, while a few civil words were spoken by
their leader.
Upon the question of the latter, as to whether he
might serve me in any way, I answered, "Yes! let me
know, from time to time, whether my husband lives or is
dead. If you will do this it will relieve me from an in-
supportable suspense ! ' To this he kindly agreed.
In the interim, I had sent to my husband his valise,
containing some gold and my Bible, which, being set in
a specially large type, I knew he would be glad to have.
These were brought back to me shortly after General
Miles 's visit, by an officer who found us still at the mess
table. My Bible was returned to me because of the fol-
lowing " communication from Mrs. Clay, written on the
fly-leaf." .
'.2 p. M. Ship-board. May, '65. With tearful eyes and
aching heart, I commend you, my precious husband, to the
care and keeping of Almighty God. May He bless you, and
keep you, and permit us once again to meet, shall be my
unceasing prayer. Farewell, WIFE."
268 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
As the officer dropped the gold upon the table beside me,
he said, " Please count it, Madam ! ' I instantly declined
to do this, however, saying, " If General Miles sent it, I
presume it is correct," and swept it into my lap without
further examination.
CHAPTER XXI
RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE
BY the second day after the incarceration of Mr.
Davis and Mr. Clay we were a heartsick company, and
I was glad when, in the late afternoon of the twenty-
fourth of May, our sailing orders came. During the last
day we were anchored off Fortress Monroe, two hundred
paroled prisoners had been taken aboard the Clyde, a
small and stuffy boat at best, and the five days spent
upon the return trip added to our anguish of mind
by much physical discomfort. The sea was exceedingly
rough. Often during the voyage a hundred or more
passengers at a time were confined below. Those who
were well found their cabins unendurably warm. In
mine, the gossip of the negroes and sailors on the lower
deck was clearly audible; and, as their themes ran prin-
cipally upon the probable fate of the prisoners, ques-
tionable as I knew the source to be from which flowed
the conversations, the gossip did not serve to lessen my
melancholy, though it keyed my alertness to a higher
pitch.
Some hours previous to our departure from Hampton
Roads, in sheer exhaustion from the experiences that had
crowded upon us, I lay down in my cabin, a prey to
mingled heart-aching and bitterness; when, looking
toward the door, I perceived a sentinel on guard. What
I took to be an added indignity made me resentful. I
spoke to him.
1 You are a brave man, standing there with bayonet
in hand to terrorise a wretched woman!" I said. He
269
270 ; A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
turned slightly, "Mrs. Clay," he answered, "You ought
to be glad to have me here guarding you, for this boat
is full of rough soldiers !' : In a moment my wrath was
turned to gratitude. I thanked him, and I felt that in
him, thereafter, I had a friend ; indeed, we had reason to
feel that all aboard who dared to show it felt pity for
and kindness toward our desolate party.
During the trip, as Mrs. Davis, Miss Howell and I sat
at night on deck, looking out over the seas, I thought
the swish of the waters against the Clyde's side was as
melancholy a note as I had ever heard. One evening
we had sat thus, discussing our situation and the dangers
that surrounded us, when, rising to return to my state-
room, I felt my dress slightly pulled. Thinking my
skirts had become entangled in the rope coils or rigging
near us, I reached out to detach them, when, to my alarm,
I found my hand in contact with another, and into mine
was thrust a bundle of newspapers. I could not have
thanked the sailor who handed them to me had I had
the presence of mind to do so, for, passing swiftly on his
way, he was lost in the darkness ere I could identify him.
The roll was in my hand, however, and I made my way
quickly to the cabin with it. They were the first news-
papers we had had since arriving at the Fortress. By
the light of the dim cabin lamp I read them. The
aggregation of ; ' opinions of the press' was so awful in
its animosity that they stunned my very power of
thought. One extract burnt itself into my brain. It
ran, 'We hope soon to see the bodies of these two arch
traitors, Davis and Clay, dangling and blackening in the
wind and rain!'
The horror of these printed words for the moment
overbalanced my reason. I hastened with it to Mrs.
Davis; a great mistake, for her agony of mind upon
reading it was such that restoratives were necessary to
prevent her from fainting. I never knew who the sailor
RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE 271
was who gave the papers 'to me, though I was more
fortunate in regard to the author of another kindness
which, happily, was less reactionary upon me.
Immediately upon my husband's incarceration I had
busied myself in writing letters to a list of distinguished
public men which had been prepared for my use by Mr.
Clay. It included the name of Joseph Holt, who, once
our friend, had deplored the possible loss to the nation
of my husband's counsels. My list comprised thirteen
names, the number that has been accounted unlucky
since thirteen sat at the table of our Lord and one be-
trayed him. In view of the months of persecution, which
followed my husband's surrender, directly traceable to
malice or fanatical zeal in the Judge Advocate's office,
an analogy is unavoidable. My list included the names
of T. W. Pierce, of Boston, Ben. Wood, owner and editor
of the New York Daily News, R. J. Halderman, Charles
O 'Conor, the great jurist, Judge Jeremiah Black and
others. To Mr. Holt I wrote as follows:
!< OFF FORTRESS MONROE ON STEAMER Clyde,
"May 23, 1865.
1 JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL HOLT.
" My Dear Sir: The circumstances of my husband's volun-
tary surrender to the Federal authorities, to meet the charges
against him, doubtless have reached you, as General Wilson,
commanding at Macon, promised to telegraph as well as
write you immediately of it. We left Macon on the I3th, in
company with other prisoners, General Wilson permitting
me to accompany Mr. Clay without orders or restrictions.
For five days we have lain at this spot awaiting events.
Yesterday morning, with five minutes' warning only, my hus-
band was taken to Fortress Monroe. As no communication
is permitted, I am denied appeals to Generals Miles or Halleck,
but entertain strong hope that one or the other may arrive
to-day to relieve my suspense.
' But the object of this letter is to appeal to you, in this
moment of dire necessity, on behalf my dear husband. You,
Judge Holt, now the embodiment of the 'majesty of the
272 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
law,' were once pleased to subscribe yourself my 'sincere
friend.' I will not believe that time or circumstances have
changed your feelings toward one who reciprocated that
friendship and was beloved by your angelic wife. So, into
your hands, my dear sir, I commit my precious husband's
case, begging that you will see to it that he receives proper
counsel and a fair and impartial trial, from which he will
surely come forth vindicated. Of course, you have some
appearance of testimony in your courts or the proclamation
would not have been issued, but I also believe that you esteem
Mr. Clay as innocent of that horrid crime, as I know him to be.
Hold the scales of mercy and justice as our great and final
Judge will hold them in your and my eases when we stand
at the Bar, and I shall fear no evil. Write me a line at Macon,
if you please, and, if possible, permit me to visit my husband.
With kindest regards to ... believe me,
"ETC."
With the exception of the Archbishop of Bermuda, who
was away from his post, as I learned some time later,
only Mr. Holt, of the thirteen written to, ignored my
appeal.
Having taken the precaution to give to each corre-
spondent an address at which, under cover, replies might
reach me, I sealed and addressed each letter preparatory
for posting ; but now I found myself in a quandary as to
how I should accomplish this important feat. I held
them for several days uncertain as to whose care I might
intrust them. As we were approaching Hilton Head,
however, a soldier, whom I had observed passing and re-
passing the open door of my cabin, tossed in a slip of
paper on which was written, " I will mail your letters.
Trust me." As there was nothing treasonable in them,
and the need was urgent for getting them swiftly to their
several destinations, I concluded to accept the offer so
miraculously made.
I therefore rolled them up, and, putting a gold dollar
in a bit of paper, awaited the reappearance of my unknown
messenger. In a few moments he came, and I slipped
RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE 273
the little parcel into his hands. That afternoon I heard
a careless whistler pass my door and the bit of gold was
tossed into my stateroom, and with excellent aim, too,
for it fell directly upon my berth. The friendly stranger
had refused to retain sufficient coin to pay for the postage.
Before leaving the Clyde I ascertained his name. He
was Charles McKim, of Philadelphia.
Such kindly aid unexpectedly extended to us by a
stranger now and then had its own part in stimulating
and encouraging us during a voyage in which a thousand
hopes and fears and memories tortured us. The very
coast-line, there in the distance, seemed to write on the
horizon the story of our disasters. We passed on our
way within one hundred yards of desolate, historic
Sumter, over which the Union flag floated, and the
solitary sentinel pacing his rounds was visible to us.
Beyond lay Charleston, her outlines placid, though we
knew she was scarred within.
Our journey, as I have stated, was full of discomfort.
Our cabins were far from clean, and chamber service we
had none save that performed by Mrs. Da vis's coloured
servant, Robert, who attended to our needs; and
so soiled were the pillows that we were obliged to pin
over them our white petticoats before retiring, these
being our only protection against the nocturnal invaders
that thronged in the bedding. It will be concluded,
therefore, that, upon our arrival in Savannah, we were a
rather bedraggled and travel-stained party. Our original
supply of clothing for the trip had been small, and the
service demanded of it thus far had been in exactly an
inverse ratio. It required some courage, therefore, as
well as ingenuity, to arrange our toilettes in such manner
as would help us to a condition of outward composure. I,
having no little ones to care for, was most abundantly
provided, and was, therefore, enabled to contribute to
my less fortunate companion, Mrs. Davis, my black silk
274 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
Talma, a loose garment of those days much used in
travelling.
We heard at once, upon stepping ashore at Savannah,
that the Federal authorities had prohibited our party
the use of carriages, and the absence of friendly faces
at the wharf told us that the date of our arrival had also
been kept a secret. We were, therefore, obliged to begin
our walk up the acclivity that led to the Pulaski House
without the moral support of a friendly presence. Those
of the young children who could toddle did so; but the
infant, Winnie, was carried by Miss Howell, Robert
following behind with such luggage as he could "tote."
We were a sad procession !
We had nearly reached the hotel, when a party of
gentlemen, seeing us, stopped in the midst of a conversa-
tion and eyed us a second. Among them were our
friends, Mr. Frederick Myers and Mr. Green. Upon
recognising our party, first one and then another of the
group caught up the children and bore them on their
shoulders into the Pulaski House.
The news of our arrival spread over the city at once,
and an impromptu levee was begun which lasted until
late in the night. It was followed, the next day, by gifts
of flowers and fruit, and, what was immediately needful,
of clothing of every description. The people of Savannah
acted as by one great impulse of generosity, all eager to
demonstrate their devotion to the prisoners now in the
hands of the United States Government, and to us, their
representatives. We found in the city many of our
former Washington and Richmond friends, among whom
were ex-Senator Yulee, of Florida, and General Mercer.
Savannah was in a state of continual disquiet. The air
rang with sounds of fifes and drums of Federal soldiers,
and bands of triumphant music were encountered in
every direction. Drills were constant and innumerable,
and fully as unpleasant to our eyes as our conquerors
RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE 275
could wish; but, to my Southern mind, no sight was so
sad, and none presented so awful a travesty on the sup-
posed dignity of arms, as the manoeuvres of a regiment
of negroes in full dress !
However, I was in no mood to think resentfully upon
these minor evils of our times; for, notwithstanding the
kindnesses shown our party on every side, my appre-
hensions for my husband's safety increased as the journals
of each day gave out their horrors. The news that Mr.
Davis, saddened, ill, strengthless, as we knew him to be,
had been put in chains, startled us. Not a soul in the
South but was horrified at the wanton act, and none, I
think, will ever forgive the deed though its authorship has
remained unacknowledged to this day. The press, both
North and South, was filled with alarming prognostications
and with news of the gathering testimony which would
fix the crime with which the ex-President and my husband
were charged, upon them. Items which I might not
otherwise have seen were clipped from Northern papers-
and sent to me by friends eager to acquaint me with news
of every development which might warn or strengthen.
From mysterious purlieus, witnesses were being brought
forward on whose awful testimony were to be formulated,
it was said, charges of heinous crime against the prisoners
of state. What this testimony was to be, who was to
give it, were mysteries to me. I tried in vain to com-
municate with Mr. Clay, and on the 8th of June, unable
longer to endure the suspense, I wrote to General Miles,
imploring him to send me at least one line to assure me
of Mr. Clay's welfare ; at the same time inclosing a second
letter to Judge Advocate General Holt.
To add to my distress of mind, the interest of the
newspapers, being now concerned with the Surratt and
other trials, became silent for the time being on the cases
of Messrs. Davis and Clay, and, until the receipt of a letter
from General Miles, I was uncertain of my husband's
276 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
whereabouts, rumours having reached me of his having
been transferred to Fort Warren. A letter received at
this time from General James H. Wilson records that he,
too, was under this impression. Waiting from day to
day in the hope of ascertaining some definite information
concerning Mr. Clay, and having established communica-
tion with friends in various quarters, I now began to shape
my plans for a return to Huntsville, meanwhile offering
such consolations to my companions as was in my power.
Only the uncomprehending children of our party seemed
happily free from the weight of trouble everywhere
besetting us. I remember an amusing incident in
connection with the little Jeff., our manly protector, just
previous to my leaving the hotel to accept the hospitality
of friends. He had scarcely arrived, when he formed an
attachment for a fine Newfoundland dog, a regular attache
of the popular hostelry. While Mrs. Davis and I were
entertaining some of Savannah's kind people, we heard
Jeff.'s voice shouting every now and then in uproarious
good humour, "Bully for Jeff. ! Bully for Jeff. !" At
last I went out to reason with him. I found him suc-
cessfully mounted on his canine acquaintance, a strong
bridle in one hand, a switch in the other.
"You shouldn't say ' Bully for Jeff.,' " I remonstrated.
' It isn't nice. You must remember whose boy you are ! '
The little fellow looked nonplussed.
"Well!" he said, ruefully, "Mis' Clay, if a fellow
don't bully for hisself , who's going to bully for him ? " I
gazed at him, puzzled. This was a Waterloo for me. I
answered, "Well, bully for yourself! but don't bully so
loud," and retreated to the parlour, leaving the little lad
to cogitate on whether he or I was master of the situation.
I lingered in Savannah, eagerly awaiting letters which
I hoped would meet me there, until the middle of June,
when I proceeded to Macon, en route for Huntsville, and
I am amused now at the contrariety of the human memory,
RETURN FROM FORTRESS MONROE 277
when, into the woof of the thoughts of those strenuous
days, there is thrust a thread of comedy. Just before
leaving the hospitable coast city, I was the guest of Mrs.
Levy, mother of the brilliant Mrs. Philip Phillips, of
Washington, of Mrs. Pember, and of Miss Martha Levy,
one of the readiest wits I have ever known.
During the evening first referred to, many guests were
introduced, among them some of Savannah's prominent
Hebrews. For an hour Miss Martha had been busy
presenting her friends, both Christian and Jew, when,
one after another, came Mr. Cohen, Mr. Salomon, Dr.
Lazarus and Dr. Mordecai. At this remarkable pro-
cession my risibles proved triumphant. I glanced slyly
at Miss Martha. Her eyes shone with mischief as she
presented Dr. Mordecai.
"And is Haman here, too?" I asked.
-'CHAPTER XXII
RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN
UPON leaving Savannah I proceeded by boat to Augusta,
reaching that city on the fifteenth of June, going thence
to Macon, escorted to Atlanta by Colonel Woods. During
the last half of my journey I was under the care of
General B. M. Thomas, who saw me safely into the hands
of our kind friends, the Whittles, whose hospitable home
became my asylum until I proceeded on my way to
Huntsville. The necessity for procuring passports
through the several military districts made my journey
a slow one. To add to my discomforts, my trunks,
recovered at Macon, were several times rigorously
searched ere I reached my destination. At every transfer
station my baggage was carefully scrutinised, and the
small value in which passports were held may be con-
jectured from the following incident.
At a certain point in my homeward journey a change
of cars became necessary at a little wayside town. Night
was already upon us when we reached the station of
Crutchfield, where the transfer was to be made. The
little structure was surrounded by hangers-on, threading
their lazy way through a small company of black and
white soldiers. I was alone, save for the little five-year-
old son of my maid, Emily, who, being ill, I had left at
the home of Mrs. Whittle. No sooner had my trunk
been deposited on the platform than it became the object
of rough handling and contumely. The train on which
I was to continue my journey was already in position, but
the close-pressing crowd about were heedless alike of my
278
RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN 279
protest and appeals to allow my baggage to be put
aboard. I begged them not to detain me, saying I had
General Croxton's passport with me ; but their only answer
was a gruff rebuke. You have passed his jurisdiction,
Madam," said one of the military near by.
It was a black night, and but few of those about me
carried lanterns. The scene was fear-inspiring to a
lonely woman. My alarm at the thought of a detention
had reached its height, when, by the fitful lights about,
I saw a tall young man break through the crowd.
'By what right do you detain this lady?' he cried,
angrily. Then, turning to the black figures around us,
he commanded, " Put that trunk on board the car ! " and
almost before I realised it my difficulties were over, and
I had myself stepped aboard the waiting train, rescued
from my unfortunate dilemma by John A. Wyeth, since
become a surgeon of national distinction. Mr. Wyeth
had come to the station for the purpose of boarding this
train, which proved a happy circumstance, for it gave
me his protection to Stevenson, a few hours distant
from Hunts ville. His father had been the long-time
friend of my husband; moreover, Dr. Allen, grandfather
of the young knight-errant, had been one of Senator
Clay's earliest instructors. Thus, the circumstance of
our meeting was a source of double gratification to me.
While a guest at the home of Colonel Lewis M. Whittle,
being unceasing in my efforts to secure all possible aid for
and to arouse our friends in behalf of my husband, I made
several trips of a day or so to other homes in the vicinity.
During such an absence, the Whittle home was invaded
by a party of soldiers, headed by one General Baker, who
made what was meant to be a very thorough search of
all my belongings, despite the protests of my gentle
hostess. But for her quick presence of mind in sending
for a locksmith, the locks of my trunks would have been
broken open by the ungallant invaders. I returned to
2 8o A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
find my friends in deep trouble and anguish of mind on
my behalf. They repeated the story of the search with
much distress of manner. From the disorder in which
I found my room when, shortly afterward, I entered it,
these agents of the Government must have hoped to find
there the whole assassination plot. Clothing of every
description was strewn over the floor and bed and chairs ;
while on mantelpiece and tables were half -smoked cigar
stumps and ashes left by the gentlemen who took part
in that memorable paper hunt. After a thorough ex-
amination of my wardrobe, piece by piece, they had
taken possession of numerous letters and photographs,
almost purely of a private character, among them the
picture of my dead infant, treasured beyond any other.
My hostess informed me that, during the process of
searching, General Baker, regardless of her presence,
personally had commented on the quality of my lingerie
and the probable avoirdupois of its owner, saying, among
other things, "I see none of the destitution I've heard
tell of in the South !' In his eagerness to discourse on
the beauty of a lady's apparel, he overlooked a recess in
one of my trunks which contained the only written matter
that, by any turning of words, might have been desig-
nated treasonable.
Great, indeed, was my surprise, when, seated on the
floor surveying the disorder about, overwhelmed with
a conviction of desolation to come, I opened one secret
little slide and looked within the pocket. Now my
chagrin and disappointment were changed to joy; for
there, within, lay the sermon-like, black-covered book
that contained my husband's careful copies of his State
correspondence while in Canada, together with other
important original papers ! The sight was almost too
good to be true ! Immediately I began to see all things
more hopefully. I remember even a feeling of merriment
as I gazed upon one of my husband's boots standing
RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN 281
just where it had been thrown, in the middle of the
floor, while hung around it was a wreath of once gorgeous
pomegranate flowers, which I recognised as those I had
worn at one of the last functions I had attended in the
Federal City.
Many months passed, in which repeated demands were
made for the letters carried away by these emissaries of
the Government, ere they were returned to me. Though
taken thus forcibly from me for Governmental examina-
tion, I have no reason to conclude that those in authority
at the War Department detained them for so serious a
reason or purpose. On the contrary, I have ground for
believing that my letters and other possessions lay open
for seven or eight months to the gaze of the more curious
friends of the department authorities; for, my friend,
Mrs. Bouligny,* early in '66, wrote warning me in regard
to them, ' I heard a lady say the other day that she
knew of a person who had read your journal at the War
Department ! ' By this time I was again in the North,
pleading with President Johnson for the release of my
husband and the return of my papers. When, at last, I
received them, they were delivered to me at the home of
Mrs. A. S. Parker, at 4^ and C Streets, Washington, by a
Federal officer, who came in a United States Mail wagon
with his burden !
My home-coming after the eventful trip to Fortress
Monroe was a sore trial. Ex-Governor Clay, now an old
man of seventy-five years, and Mrs. Clay, almost as aged
(and nearer, by six months, to the grave, as events soon
proved), were both very much broken. For more than
three years they had waited and wept and prayed for
the loved cause which, in its fall, had borne down their
first-born. The Clay home, every stone of which was
hallowed to them, was now occupied by Captain Peabody
* Then widow of Congressman Bouligny, of Louisiana, and now Mrs.
George Collins Levey, of London, England.
282 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
and his staff. Servants and all other of their former
possessions were scattered; and Mother Clay, whose
beautiful patrician hands had never known the soil of
labour, who, throughout her long life of piety and gentle
surroundings, had been shielded as tenderly as some rare
blossom, now, an aged woman, within but a few months
of the tomb, bereft of even her children, was compelled
to perform all necessary household labour. The last
and bitterest pain, that of my husband's incarceration,
fell crushingly upon her. Her son, who had added
lustre to his distinguished father's name, who in private
virtues had met every wish of her heart, now lay a prisoner
in the nation's hands, and the nation itself had gone mad
with the desire to wreak a vengeance on some one for
the deplorable act of a madman. The knowledge came
to her as a very death-dealing blow, the climax of years of
unintermitting anxiety, deprivations, and the small
tyrannies practised by our many invaders during the
investment of Hunts ville. Friends and kindred had
been cut down on every side. For three years our little
city had been in Union hands. None of her formerly
affluent citizens but had been impoverished or ruined.
By the summer of '65, the country about was completely
devastated.
The crops were inconsiderable; scarcely any cotton
had been planted, and the appalling cotton tax had
already been invented to drain us still further. All over
the South "Reconstruction days' 1 had begun. Con-
fusion of a kind reigned in every town or city. It was
no longer a question of equality between the Freedmen
and their late masters, but of negro supremacy. On
every side the poor, unknowing creatures sought every
opportunity to impress the fact of their independence
upon all against whom they bore resentment. The
women were wont to gather on the sidewalks of the
main thoroughfares, forming a line across as they
RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN 283
sauntered along, compelling their former masters and
mistresses who happened to be approaching to take the
street; or, if not sufficiently numerous or courageous to
do this, would push their way by them, bumping into
them with a distinct challenge to the outraged one to
resent it . As if to encourage this spirit of * * independence, ' '
the agents of the conquering Government were there to
protect their proteges from the indignant resentment
such conduct might well awaken, though they seemed
not to be equipped to instruct them in better things.
Upon my return to Huntsville, after Mr. Clay's incar-
ceration, having been absent from it now nearly four
years, I found the metamorphosis in the beautiful old
town to be complete. Indignation at the desecration
about us was the one antidote to despair left to the
majority of our neighbours, who, their property seized,
their fields unplanted, their purses empty, had small
present peace or ground for hope in the future. Indig-
nities, petty and great, multiplied each day at the
hands of often wholly inexperienced Federal representa-
tives, who, finding themselves in authority over the persons
and property of men distinguished throughout the land,
knew not how to exercise it. Looking back upon those
frightful years, I am convinced that these agents, far more
than our enemies who strove with our heroes upon the
field, are responsible for a transmitted resentment that
was founded upon the unspeakable horrors of "Recon-
struction days.' 1 Happy, indeed, was it for us that the
future was hidden from us; for, bad as the conditions
were that met my husband's family then, there were to
be yet other and worse developments. Our home,
opposite to that of Governor Clay, was now occupied by
one Goodlow, head of the Freedmen's Bureau. From
the one wing of the parental house to which ex-Governor
and Mrs. Clay were now limited, only the sorry sight met
our eyes of the desecration of our once lovely residence,
284 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the galleries and portico of which were now the gathering
place for proteges of the Government. Daily I saw
Alfred, the former dining-room servant of Governor
Clay, revelling in his newly acquired liberty, dash by our
dwelling, seated in a handsome buggy behind a fine
trotter. He was a handsome copper-coloured negro,
with the blood of red men in his veins. His yellow
gauntlets were conspicuous two streets away, and as he
passed he left on the evening air the odour of the Jessa-
mine pomade with which he had saturated his straight
Indian locks in his effort to outdo his late master.
Poor Alfred ! He was a child with a toy balloon. A
few years passed. In tattered attire, and with the
humblest demeanor, he eked out a scanty living at a
meagre little luncheon-stand on the corner of a thorough-
fare. His former respect and regard for his old master
now returned, and with it, I doubt not, a longing for
the days when, in his fresh linen suits, laundered by the
laundress of the Governor's household, a valued servant,
he had feasted on the good things he himself had assisted
in concocting !
Ground to the earth as we were by the cruelties of
the times, that Freedman's Bureau was frequently,
nevertheless, a source of amusement. Its name bore
but one meaning to the simple-minded follower of the
mule-tail who appealed to it . He knew but one ' ' bureau ' '
in the world, and that was "ole Missus's" or "Mis'
Mary's," an unapproachable piece of furniture with a
given number of drawers. Bitter was the disappoint-
ment of the innocent blacks when they failed to see
the source whence came their support.
' Whar's dat bureau ? " was sure to be the first question.
' Whar all dem drawers what got de money an' de sugar
an' de coffee ? God knows I neber see no bureau 't all,
an' dat man at de book-cupboard * talked mighty short
ter me, at dat!"
* Desk.
RECONSTRUCTION DAYS BEGIN 285
While letting my thoughts linger for a moment on those
dreary days, I cannot refrain from recalling one of the
occasional instances of humane conduct shown us by those
placed in authority over the citizens of Huntsville, asso-
ciated, as it is, with a bit of genuine negro blundering.
The generosity of Dr. French, Medical Director, there
stationed, toward the family of our brother, J. Withers
Clay, in giving his medical services freely to them, greatly
touched us all. Appreciating his obvious desire to admin-
ister to our wounded spirits a true " oil and wine," my sis-
ter one morning gathered a bunch of fragrant camomile
blossoms, and, calling her ebony femme de menage to her,
she said, 'Take these flowers over to Dr. French and
say Mrs. Clay sends them with her compliments. Tell
him that these camomile blossoms are like the Southern
ladies the more they are bruised and oppressed the
sweeter and stronger they grow ! Now," she added, " tell
me, Sally, what are you going to say?" Sally answered
promptly :
1 I'se gwine tell de doctor dat Mis' Mary Clay sont her
compliments an' dese cammile flowers, an' says dey's like
de Southern ladies, de harder you squeezes an' presses
'em de sweeter dey gits ! '
It is perhaps unnecessary to relate that the message
which reached the kind doctor was put in written form.
CHAPTER XXIII
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE
To minister to my husband's aged parents dulled in some
degree my own alarms, yet the wildest rumours continued
to multiply as to the probably early trial and certainly
awful fate of Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay. Controversies
were waging in the press, both condemning and approving
the actions of the Military Commission in Washington;
yet, even in those still early days of his imprisonment,
voices were raised in many localities to declare Mr. Clay's
incapability of the crimes imputed to him.*
Meantime, reputable men in Canada, who adduced in-
dubitable proof of the truth of the accusations they made,
had already assailed the characters of the witnesses upon
whom the Bureau of Military Justice so openly relied to
convict its distinguished prisoners witnesses by whose
testimony some had already perished on the gallows. How
true these accusations were was proved a year later, when,
his misdoings exposed on the floor of the House of Repre-
sentatives, a self-confessed perjurer, Conover, the chief
reliance of the Bureau of Military Justice, the chief accuser
of my husband, fled the country. At this denouement,
Representative Rogers openly averred his belief that the
flight of Conover, one of the most audacious of modern
criminals, had been assisted by some one high in author-
ity, in order to make impossible an investigation into the
disgraceful culpability of the high unknown !
* "It were as easy," wrote one editor, "to suspect General Lee of
duplicity, or General Butler of magnanimity, as to think Mr. Clay
guilty of the crimes imputed to him !"
286
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 287
So early as June 10, 1865, a pamphlet had been printed
and circulated throughout the country by the Rev. Stuart
Robinson, exposing seriatim the "Infamous Perjuries of
the Bureau of the Military Justice." It took the form of a
letter to the Hon. H. H. Emmons, United States District-
Attorney at Detroit, and was quoted, when not printed
in full, by many leading newspapers. Throughout the
closely printed pages the paper presented an expose of the
unworthy character of the most prominent witnesses on
whose testimony the hapless Mrs. Surratt and her com-
panions had been condemned to the gallows ; witnesses,
moreover, who were known to be the accusers of Mr. Davis
and Mr. Clay, who, it was announced, were soon to be tried
for complicity in the murder of the late Federal President.
In his pamphlet, Mr. Robinson did not content himself
with refuting the statements made by the miscreant wit-
nesses. He went further and accused Mr. Holt (by
name), head of the Bureau of Military Justice, of being
particeps criminis with the evil men whose testimony he
so credulously or maliciously employed.
"If any one supposes,' 1 wrote Mr. Robinson, 'I have
judged Mr. Holt uncharitably in making him particeps
criminis with this villain' a notorious witness 'whom
he parades and assists in the work of lying himself out of
his previous perjuries by still more preposterous lies, let
him carefully ponder this letter. . . . This is the man
whom Judge Advocate Holt, after his perjuries have been
exposed, brings back to the stand and assists in his
attempts to force his lies down the throat of the American
people. Who now," Mr. Robinson continued, 'is the
base "criminal Judge Holt, or the men whom he seeks by
such base and impudent perjuries, under the garb of sworn
testimony, to defame?"
Such a brave challenge might well have been expected
to give the Government pause. To the increased agony
of our minds, its agents took no cognisance of Mr. Robin-
2 88 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
son's fearless exposure, but ignored the protest with its
startling array of charges, which easily might have been
verified, and continued to rely upon its strange allies to
assist in the persecution of its prison victims.
Instinct with the zeal of the fanatic, and intrenched
behind the bewildered Mr. Johnson, the Head of the Bureau
of Military Justice was indifferent alike to contumely and
the appeals of even the merely just. In so far as the coun-
try at large might see, its Judge Advocate was imperial in
his powers. The legality of the existence of the Bureau
had been denied by the greatest jurists of the times ; yet
its dominating spirit was determined, despite the gravest
warnings and condemnation, to railroad, by secret trial,
the more distinguished of the prisoners to the gallows.
"Thoughtful men," Reverdy Johnson had said in his
argument in the trial of Mrs. Surratt, " feel aggrieved that
such a Commission should be established in this free coun-
try when the war is over, and when the common law
courts are open and accessible. Innocent parties, some-
times by private malice, sometimes for a mere partisan
purpose, sometimes from a supposed public policy, have
been made the subjects of criminal accusation. History
is full of such instances. How are such parties to be pro-
tected if a public trial be denied them, and a secret one in
whole or in part be substituted?"
'The Judge Advocate said, in reply to my inquiries,"
said Thomas Ewing, "that he would expect to convict
under the common law of war. This is a term unknown to
our language, a quiddity incapable of definition." And,
again, "The Judge Advocate, with whom chiefly rests the
fate of these citizens, from his position cannot be an
impartial judge unless he be more than man. He is the
Prosecutor in the most extended sense of the word. As
in duty bound before this court was called, he received the
reports of detectives, pre-examined the witnesses, pre-
pared and officially signed the charges, and, as principal
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 289
counsel for the Government, controlled on the trial the
presentation, admission and rejection of evidence. In
our courts of law, a lawyer who heard his client's story, if
transferred from the bar to the bench, may not sit in the
trial of the cause, lest the ermine be sullied through the
partiality of the counsel."
To our sad household at distant Huntsville, each day,
with its disquieting rumours and reports of these trials,
added to our distress of mind. There was scarcely a man
or woman in the South who did not prophesy that, the
popular cry being "Vengeance," and full military power
in the hands of such men as Stanton and Holt, our former
President and Mr. Clay would surely meet the fate of Mrs.
Surratt.
Under the domination of such knowledge, my condition
of mind was a desperate one. We were nearly a thousand
miles removed from the seat of Government and from my
husband's prison. The Bureau of Military Justice, it was
well known, was industriously seeking to convict its
prisoners ; while the latter, ignorant even of the charges
against them, and denied the visits of counsel or friends,
were helpless to defend themselves, however easy to obtain
the proof might be. It were impossible for a wife, know-
ing her husband to be innocent, and resenting the ignoble-
ness of a government which would thus refuse to a self-
surrendered prisoner the courtesies the law allows to the
lowest of criminals, to rest passively under conditions so
alarming.
From the moment I stepped upon the soil of Georgia I
renewed my appeals to those in the North of whose regard
for my husband I felt assured. Among the first to respond
were Charles O 'Conor, of New York, T. W. Pierce, of
Boston, R. J. Haldeman, and Benjamin Wood, editor and
proprietor of the New York Daily News. Mr. Wood wrote
spontaneously :
" I beg you to have full faith in my desire and exertions
29 o '" A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to relieve your noble husband from persecution, and to
secure for him a prompt and impartial trial, and conse-
quently an inevitable acquittal of the charge that has
been infamously alleged against him. I will communicate
immediately with Mr. O 'Conor, Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Franklin
Pierce, and Judge Black. Let me request you to accord
me the pleasure of advancing to Mr. Clay, until his libera-
tion, whatever sum may be necessary for the expenses
attendant upon legal action for his defense, as, owing to
his imprisonment and the present unsettled condition of
your neighbourhood, there might be a delay that would
prove prejudicial to his interests."
" I have no idea he will be brought to trial," wrote Mr.
Pierce, on June i6th, "as the evidence on which the Gov-
ernment relies is a tissue of wicked fabrication, from the
perjured lips of the lowest upon the earth ! No one who
knows him (Mr. Clay) can for a moment believe him guilty
or even capable of crime. I have written to Judge Black
and requested him to make effort to have you come to
the North. I hope your application to Judge Holt* will
secure for you this liberty."
Mr. 'Conor's letter ran as follows:
"NEW YORK, June 29, 1865.
"My Dear Madam: I do not believe that any attempt
will be made to try Mr. Clay or any other of the leading
Southern gentlemen on the charge of complicity in the assas-
sination f of Lincoln.
"Such of them as have, through mistaken confidence in
the magnanimity of their enemies, surrendered themselves
into custody, may be obliged to suffer imprisonment, until
it shall be determined, as a matter of policy, whether they
ought to be tried for treason. . . .
* Neither this application, nor any communication sent by Mrs. Clay
to Judge Holt, met with the recognition of acknowledgment. A. S.
t A reference to Holt's Report, dated December 8, 1865, will show
how little either Mr. Pierce or this great legal light apprehended the
audacity of the inquisitorial Military Commission, of which the Secre-
tary of War and Joseph Holt made two. A. S.
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 291
'Mr. Jefferson Davis is, of course, the first victim de-
manded by those who demand State prosecutions. His will
be the test case. ... I have volunteered my professional
services in his defense, and although I have hitherto been
refused permission to see him, and his letter in reply to my
offer has been intercepted and returned to him as an improper
communication, I am persuaded that, if a trial shall take place,
I will be one of his defenders. In performing this duty, you
may fairly consider me as in compliance with your request,
defending your husband. ... I sympathise most sin-
cerely with yourself and your husband in this cruel ordeal,
and shall be most happy if my efforts shall have any influence
in mitigating its severity or in shortening its duration.
'I am, my dear Madam, with great respect and esteem,
" Yours truly,
"CHARLES O'CONOR."
This epistle, coming from so wise a man, was calculated
to calm us ; one from Mr. Haldeman inspired us equally
to courage.
" HARRISBURG, July 24, 1865.
"MRS. C. C. CLAY.
"My Dear Madam: Your exceedingly affecting letter
did not reach me until long after it was written. . . .
So soon as it was practicable, I visited Honourable Thaddeus
Stevens at his home in Lancaster City. I selected Mr.
Stevens more particularly on account of his independence
of character, his courage, and his position of intellectual and
official leadership in the lower house of Congress, and in his
party. It is not necessary for me to tell you, Madam, that,
knowing your husband, I never had a suspicion of his com-
plicity in the assassination of Mr. Lincoln, but you will be
gratified to learn that Mr. Stevens scorned the idea of either
his guilt or that of any of the prominent sojourners in Canada.*
'Mr. Stevens holds, that as the belligerent character of
the Southern States was recognised by the United States,
neither Mr. Davis nor Mr. Clay can be tried for treason. . .
That, if tried, Mr. Clay should be tried in Alabama. You
will perceive, then, my dear Madam, that connected with the
proposed trial of your husband, there are profound questions
* Several years later Mr. Stevens reiterated these statements to one
of the editors of the New York Tribune, who again quoted Mr. Stevens's
remarks in an able editorial. A. S.
292 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
of statesmanship and party. On this account, Mr. S. would
not like to have his name prematurely mentioned. He is
using his great political influence in the direction indicated,
and it is, of course, much greater when he is not known as
the counsel of Mr. Clay. ... I promised to see Mr.
Stevens so soon as the form and place of trial are announced.
Mr. Stevens will be a tower of strength, and com-
mand attention and respect from President, Secretary and
Congress.
"Hoping, Madam, that when I address you again, it will
be under happier auspices, I am,
"R. J. HALBEMAN."
Nor were these all. Ex- Attorney General Black wrote
me early in July these brief but kind words of sympathy :
" I hasten to assure you that I will do all that in me lies
to secure justice in Mr. Clay's case. I have written to the
President, Secretary of War, and Mr. Davis. You may
safely rely upon me to the extent of my ability to do you
good ! "
Letters as positive and cordial came also from Messrs.
George Shea and J. M. Carlisle. I had written meanwhile
to Mr. Clay in prison, hoping thereby to give him courage ;
to the Secretary of War, beseeching for kindness to his self-
surrendered and delicate prisoner ; to General Miles, beg-
ging him to keep his promise and tell me of Mr. Clay's con-
dition. It was three months ere I heard from my hus-
band. The Secretary of War ignored my letter, and
three weeks passed ere the general in command at Fortress
Monroe made reply. His letter was judicially kind. It
saved me, at least, from apprehension lest Mr. Clay, too,
should be submitted to the horrible indignity which had
been put upon Mr. Davis, the news of which was still agi-
tating the country. General Miles J s letter was as follows :
:< HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DISTRICT OF FORT MONROE.
FORT MONROE, Virginia, June 20, 1865.
"Dear Madam: Your letter of the 8th inst. * is at hand.
* The letter reads M vt.," but, being obviously an error, is here,
changed, A. S.
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 293
In answer, I am happy to say to you, your husband is well in
health and as comfortable as it is possible to make him under
my orders. He has not at any time been in irons. His fare
is good. (I think Mr. Davis's health better than when he
left the Clyde.) He has pipe and tobacco. The officers in
charge are changed every day. Your husband was pleased
to hear you were well. Wished me to say that he was well
and comfortable and under the circumstances quite cheerful.
Has every confidence that he will be able to vindicate himself
of the charge. He sends much love, and hopes you will not
make your [self] uneasy or worry on his account, as his only
concern is about you. Your letter was sent to Judge Holt.
' Your husband has not been allowed any books except his
Bible and prayer-book, although I have requested provision
to allow him one other, but have received no answer as yet.
You may be assured that while your husband is within the
limits of my command he will not suffer. Hoping this will
find you well, I remain
" Very respectfully,
" NELSON A. MILES,
" Brevet Major-General United States Volunteers."
On the face of it this communication was kind. But,
to offset its statements as to my husband's comfort,
rumours quite the reverse reached us from many reliable
sources. How well these were founded, how grievously
the life in prison told upon my husband's spirit, may be
adjudged from the following excerpts from a running
letter from Mr. Clay which reached me late in the
autumn. It was designed for my eyes alone, in
the event of some sudden termination of his present
awful experiences. In part it was a solemn charge
and farewell to me, and this portion was guarded ; for
Mr. Clay had supposed he must commit the letter, at
last, to the care of General Miles for transmittance to me.
In part, it is evident hope was reviving him; by this
time permission had been given to him to write to me
through the War Department ; also, he perceived the way
opening for a private delivery of the letter, and therefore,
at the last, he spoke more unreservedly.
294 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
"CASEMATE No. 4, FORTRESS MONROE, VIRGINIA.
" FRIDAY, August n, 1865.
"My Dearly Beloved Wife: After repeated requests, I
am permitted to address you this communication, which is
only to be delivered to you by General Miles in case of my
death before we meet on earth. . . . This letter is written
in contemplation of death; for, although trusting through
God's goodness and mercy to see you again on this earth, yet,
as my health is much impaired and I am greatly reduced in
flesh and strength, and never allowed a night's unbroken
rest, I feel I am in greater peril of my life than is usual.
Under the solemn reflection that I may not see you again
before I am called hence to meet my Judge, I shall try to wiite
nothing that I would erase at that day when I must give an
account of the deeds done in the flesh. God bears me wit-
ness that I am unconscious of having committed any crime
against the United States or any of them, or any citizen
thereof, and that I feel and believe that I have done my duty
as a servant of the State of Alabama, to whom alone I owed
allegiance, both before and since she seceded from the Federal
Union. I have not changed my opinion as to the sovereignty
of the States and the right of a State to secede ; and I am more
confirmed by my reflections and our bitter experience that the
Northern people were so hostile to the rights, interests and
institutions of the Southern States, that it was just and
proper for these to seek peace and security in a separate
government. I think the utter subversion of our political
and social systems and sudden enfranchisement of four
million slaves a great crime, and one of the most terrible
calamities that ever befell any people; that generations yet
unborn will feel it in sorrow and suffering; and that nothing
but intense hatred and vindictive rage could have so blinded
the North to its own interests and [to] those of humanity,
as to induce the consummation of this act of wickedness and
folly. I look for nothing but evil to both blacks and whites
in the South from this sudden and violent change in their
relations; intestine feuds and tumults; torpid indolence and
stealthy rapacity on the part of the blacks; jealousy, distrust
and oppression of them on the part of the whites; mutual
outrage and injury, disquiet, apprehensions, alarms, murders,
robberies, house-burnings, and other crimes; the blighting
of hearts and homes and the destruction of industry, arts,
literature, wealth, comfort and happiness. No people, save
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 29$
the Jews, have ever been more oppressed and afflicted than
those of the South, [and] especially the blacks, will be, in my
opinion. Their professed deliverers will prove the real de-
stroyers of the negroes in the end.
'Had I foreseen this, I should doubtless have been in
favour of enduring lesser evils and wrongs from the North
and postponing this calamity, for it would have come sooner
or later, but, perhaps, not in our day. I never doubted
. . . that our interest would be best served by preserving
the old Union, under which I might have enjoyed wealth and
honour all my life. I felt that I was acting against my own
interest in favouring Secession, but thought it my duty to my
State and the South. Hence, I have nothing to reproach
myself for as to my course in that respect. I only regret that
we did not defer the evil day or prepare longer, better main-
taining our independence. I still think we might and would
have maintained it, with more wisdom in council and in the
field, and with more virtue among our people. I feel it due
to my character, to my family and friends, to say this much on
public affairs. . . .
' Now in regard to your own course and that of my kindred,
I would advise you, if able, to remove from the South; but,
impoverished as you all are, or soon will be, it is improbable
that you can do so. Hence, you had best make your home
in some city or large town, where the white population pre-
vails. I think populous negro districts will be unsafe. You
will be obliged to cast off our former slaves, if they should
desire to live with you, for you have no means of supporting
or of employing them. . . . Do what you can for the
comfort of my parents. . . . Try to exercise charity to
all mankind, forgiving injuries, cherishing hatred to none,
and doing good even to enemies. . . . This is true
wisdom, even if there was no life beyond the grave, because
the best way of securing peace of mind and of promoting mere
worldly interests. But when I remember that Christ commands
it and enforced it by His example, and promised, 'if you keep
my commandments, you shall abide in my love* the inestimable
great reward should stimulate us to the performance of the duty.
. . . Nothing has convinced me of the divinity of Christ
so much as His superhuman morality and virtue. . . .
" SATURDAY, August 12, 1865.
". . . I hope and sometimes think that my confine-
ment here is to end in good to me. I have tried and am
296 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
still trying to turn it to my incalculable profit. I have searched
my own heart, and reviewed my life more earnestly, prayer-
fully, and anxiously than in all my days before coming in
here. I have read The Book through twice ; much of it more
than twice.
"You will see from my Bible and prayer-books that I have
been assiduous and earnest in their study. I confess that
this has been from necessity rather than choice. I have
never been allowed to see any word in print or manuscript
outside of them, until 3d inst., when a copy of the New York
Herald was brought me, and I was informed that I was [to be]
allowed to see such newspapers as General Miles would daily
send me.
" September 10, 1865.
" I dropped my pen in the delusive hope that I was to be
allowed to see you soon, or at all events to correspond freely
with you, and that in the meantime I would be allowed a rea-
sonable hope of living, by granting me opportunity to sleep.
For I must now tell you what I have heretofore thought I
would conceal till my liberation or death, that I have endured
the most ingenious and refined torture ever since I came into this
living tomb; for, although above the natural face of the earth, it
is covered with about ten feet of earth, and is always more or less
damp like a tomb. With a bright light in my room and the
adjoining room, united to it by two doorways, closed by iron
gates, which cover about half the space or width of the partition,
and with two soldiers in this room, and two and a lieutenant in
the adjoining, until about ^oth June; with the opening and
shutting of those heavy iron doors or gates, the soldiers being
relieved every two hours; with the tramp of these heavy, armed
men, walking their beats, the rattling of their arms, and still
more the trailing sabre of the lieutenant, the officer of the guard,
whose ditty is to look at me every fifteen minutes, you may be
sure that my sleep has been often disturbed and broken. In
truth, I have experienced one of the tortures of the Spanish
Inquisition in this frequent, periodical and irregular disturb-
ance of my sleep. During the one hundred and twelve days
of my imprisonment here I have never enjoyed one night's
unbroken sleep ; I have been roused every two hours, if asleep,
by the tread of soldiers, the clank of arms and the voices of
officers. ... I have never known the feeling of refresh-
ment from sleep on arising any morning of my imprisonment.
Besides, I have never been allowed retirement from sight,
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 297
actual or potential, of my guards; having to bathe and do all
the acts of nature in view of the guard, if they chose to look at
me. I have never been allowed an interview with any one
alone, not even with a minister of God, but have always been
confronted with two or more witnesses, whenever minister
or physician come to see me. I have never been allowed any
clothes save those in present use. . . . Where my other
clothes are I do not know, as several of those who were repre-
sented as masters of my wardrobe denied the trust. I have
found out that some things I valued have been stolen, together
with all the little money I kept. I think it probable that you
will never see half of the contents of my valise and despatch
bag. The inclosed letters* present but a glimpse of my
tortures, for I knew that the grand inquisitors, the President
and Cabinet, knew all that I could tell and even more; and,
besides, my debility of body and of mind was such that I had
not power to coin my thoughts into words. . . . And to
be frank, I was too proud to confess to them all my sufferings,
and also apprehended that they would rather rejoice over and
aggravate than relent and alleviate them. I now feel ashamed
that I have complained to them instead of enduring unto
death. My love for you, my parents and brothers, prevailed
over my self-love, and extracted from me those humiliating
letters. I have been reluctant to humble myself to men whom
I regarded as criminals far more than myself, touching all the
woes and wrongs, the destruction and desolation of the South.
'If you ever get my [Jay's] prayer-book, you will see
scratched with a pencil, borrowed for the occasion, such
items in my monotonous prison life as I felt worth recording.
"October i6th.
" On the i gth of August I wrote my second letter to the Sec-
retary of War, and was then in hopes of removal of the guard
from the adjoining room in a day or two. Besides, I was so
enfeebled and my nerves so shattered by loss of sleep that I
could scarcely write. Hence I quit this painful labour of
love. The guard was not removed till the i2th of Septem-
ber, and then because my condition, from loss of sleep, was
become really very critical. Since then I have improved
very much in health and have slept as well as I ever did. But
I have been deluded with the hope of my enlargement on
* Copies of those addressed by Mr. Clay to the Secretaty of War and
to President Johnson. A. S.
29 8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
parole, and thought I would not dwell on so painful a theme.
I now learn that I am to be moved to-day to Carroll Hall,
where Mr. D is. ; . . Hence I avail myself of a
chance to send you these sheets lest they should never reach
you if I die in prison. I must impress on you the propriety of
concealing this communication while I live and never alluding
to it, for, if found out, I should suffer for it. ... I dare
say I should be turned out on parole but for the charge against
me of concerting Lincoln's murder. They are loth to con-
fess the charge to be false, which they would do by releasing
me. I am made to suffer to save them from the reproach of
injustice. I should be willing to brave them out by stubborn
endurance and refusal of anything but legal justice. I should
not fear that. But I am never to be tried for murder, nor, I
think, for treason. They know there is no pretext for charg-
ing me with murder, and they doubt their ability to convict
me of treason before a jury of Southern men, and such only
could legally try me. . . .
"Now excuse any incoherence or want of method and the
bad writing, as it is all done under great disadvantages, which
I may explain hereafter. You can write to me under cover
to Captain R. W. Bickley, Third Pennsylvania Artillery,
Fortress Monroe, Virginia. He will be here till zoth of
November, and then go out of service. After that I'll find
some one else through whom you can write to me. He is
from Philadelphia. He, Captain J. B. Tetlow, Philadelphia,
Captain McEwan, Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, and Dr. John J.
Craven* of this place, have been very kind to me ; also Lieuten-
ant Lemuel Shipman, Sunbury, Pennsylvania. The last
made me a wooden knife to eat with during the time I was
denied knife and fork and spoon, which was till thirtieth of
June.
'They would, too, shake hands (which was forbidden) and
treat me as an equal when they could do so unobserved.
Take care you don't allude to this letter in yours through War
Department. ... . has no sensibility
or refinement, and hence Mr. Davis and I have suffered more
than we should have done. Mr. Davis was ironed without
cause, and only grew violent when they offered to iron him. I
* Dr. Craven was already in communication with Dr. Withers, of
Petersburg, Va., Mr. Clay's cousin, who, through the courtesy of his
fellow-practitioner, was enabled to contribute occasionally to Mr.
Clay's comfort and welfare. A. S.
NEWS FROM FORTRESS MONROE 299
know this from one who was present. Facts are, General M
was authorised to iron us if necessary for safety, and deemed it
necessary with Mr. D , or mistook the authority as an order
to do it. But Mr. Davis is petulant, irascible, and offensive in
manner to officers, as they tell me, though they say he is able,
learned, high-toned, and imposing in manner."
Before this heartrending letter reached me, however,
another, couched purposely in terms more guarded (as
befitted matter which must run the gauntlet of Secretary
Stanton's, the Attorney-General's and General Miles's
scrutiny), had reached me. In my endeavours to com-
fort our enfeebled parents, I had already discussed with
them the advisability of making my way to Washington,
and in the first letter from me that reached my husband's
hands I spoke of my hope of doing so. Unknown to me,
Mr. Clay, so early as June 3oth, had written an urgent
appeal to Secretary Stanton that I might be allowed to
see or communicate with him. To this he had received
no reply. Upon learning, therefore, of my intention
through my letter, his first impulse was to dissuade me.
'If you come North," he wrote, on August 2ist, "you
must come with a brave heart, my dear 'Ginie 4 , * .
prepared to hear much to wound you, and to meet with
coldness and incivility where you once received kindness
and courtesy. Some will offend you with malice, some
unwittingly and from mere habit, and some even through
a sense of duty. Many religionists have, doubtless, found
pleasure and felt they were doing God service in persecu-
ting heretics. If rudely repulsed, remember, in charity,
that such is human nature. The Jewish priests drove off
the lepers with stones. . . ."
CHAPTER XXIV
AGAIN IN WASHINGTON
BY September I had reopened correspondence with
many Washington friends. As will have been seen by a
perusal of certain preceding letters, the question of giving
me permission to return to the capital already had been
broached to the President and Secretary of War, by
Judge Black and others. It was now again brought to
the attention of Mr. Johnson, by Mr. Duff Green, a long-
time friend of ex-Governor Clay, of my husband, and of the
President's. It was the first application of all that had
been sent to the Government to bring a response. The
Executive's reply was couched as follows:
" I am directed by the President to say that an appli-
cation for permission to visit Washington, made by Mrs.
C. C. Clay, Jr., over her own name, will be considered by
him. R. MORROW,
"Major and A. A. G., Secretary."
In forwarding this communication to me, Mr. Green
wrote :
' We think there is nothing to prevent your coming at
once. To wait for permission may delay you weeks, and
perhaps months. Your coming would not prejudice
either yourself or your husband, and you can do more by a
personal application to the President than by an applica-
tion 'over your own name.'
Two months dragged by, however, ere I could complete
arrangements for the journey and detach myself from our
clinging parents, who, deprived of all of their other chil-
dren, now placed their dependence upon me. Notwith-
300
AGAIN IN WASHINGTON 301
standing their hearts ached for some assurance of Mr. Clay's
safety, they were ill-disposed to look upon my projected
trip with favour. Huntsville was in complete subjugation
to the Federal representatives. We had numerous
reasons to realise the pitiless and cruel policy that had
been inaugurated by our conquerors, and few to lead us
to look for kinder things at the hands of the powers at
Washington. The reports that reached us of the treat-
ment accorded to those Southerners who had already
proceeded to the capital, even allowing for the prejudice
of editors unfriendly to us, were not of a kind to encourage
a hope for clemency or justice there. The efforts of
the wives of other prisoners to communicate with their
husbands, their applications to the Government to grant
them the right of trial, not only had been of no avail, but,
in some instances, had made them the direct objects of
attack from those inimical to them. "I have had a
weary time," one wrote late in October, "but of that, if
you knew how weary, you would cry out 'No more an'
you love me,' rather than bear the infliction of the retro-
spect, so I will not torment you." . . . President
Johnson's remarks to the South Carolina Delegation,
concerning Mrs. Davis's efforts, became the talk of the
country. I was astonished when I learned that she had
never written a line without consultation with Mr. Schley
and his, in turn, consulting General Steedman upon the
tenor of her letters, and receiving the approval of both on
the manner of presenting the subject. It was the old fable
of the lamb whose grandfather muddied the stream.
Such news served further to convince my husband's
parents of the futility of the trip I was contemplating.
They urged that I would be attacked on every side so
soon as I entered the Federal capital; they pleaded,
too, alas ! the stringency of our present means, a very
vital objection just then to us whose every possession had
either been "confiscated" or otherwise rendered useless
302 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to us. Nevertheless, every moment anxiety was con-
' suming me. I resolved to act while I had the strength,
and made known my resolve to our parents.
Trie middle of November had arrived ere, by the aid
of Mr. Robert Herstein, a kindly merchant of Hunts-
ville ("may his tribe increase"), who advanced me
$100 in gold (and material for a silk gown, to be made
when I should reach my destination), I was enabled to
begin my journey to the capital. Under the escort of a
kind friend and neighbour, Major W. H. Echols, of
Huntsville, who, having in mind the securing of a certain
patent, arranged his plans so as to accompany me to
Washington, I bade father and mother " good -bye" and
stepped aboard the train. My heart sometimes beat high
with hope, yet, at others, I trembled at what I might
encounter. Fortunately for the preservation of my
courage, I had no forewarning that I had looked, for the
last time, upon the sorrowful face of our mother. Her
closing words, in that heartbreaking farewell, were of
hope that I would soon return bringing with me her
dearest son. With the desire to cheer them both, I
wrote back merrily as I proceeded on my way; but,
indeed, I had small need to affect a spirit of buoyancy;
for, from the beginning, I was the recipient of innumer-
able kindnesses from fellow-travellers who learned my
identity. In many instances my fare was refused by
friendly railroad conductors.
"I have paid literally nothing thus far," I wrote from
Louisville, Kentucky, which city I reached early in the
morning of November i5th. "At Nashville," my letter
added, 'we took sleeping cars, which were as luxurious
as the bed that now invites me. I had, however, an
amusing, and, at first blush, an alarming nocturnal
adventure. I was waked by the rattling of paper at
my head, and, half unconsciously putting out my hand,
it lighted on the hairy back of some animal ! I sprang
AGAIN IN WASHINGTON 303
out of bed, raised the curtain, and there sat, in the corner
of my berth, the most monstrous coon you ever saw!
The black around his eyes at first made him appear like
an owl, but he proved to be a genuine old ' zip coon.' So
I got out one of 'Mammy 'Ria's' nice biscuit, which
have been greatly complimented by my friends, and
asked him please to come out of my bed and eat some
supper. But he wouldn't ! And I had to wake Major
Echols in the gentlemen's apartment, who forcibly
ejected him after a good laugh at me !'
A day later and we reached Cincinnati, where, owing
to the late arrival of the boat, the St. Nicholas, on which
we had travelled from Louisville, through banks of fog,
we were delayed some twelve hours. Our trip on this
river steamer was, in its way, a kind of triumphal progress,
very reassuring to me at that critical moment. As
I wrote back to father, 'We found the captain a good
Southerner and a noble old fellow ! Had one son in the
Federal Army and lost one at Shiloh ! Mr. Hughes, of
the Louisville Democrat, was aboard ; he said his paper had
been suppressed, but he would now be permitted to go
South. He is a rabid secessionist, and promised to copy
the News* articles concerning my husband." On
board, too, was Mrs. Gamble, of Louisville, a wealthy
woman whose name was associated with innumerable
kindnesses to our soldiers, and generous gifts to our
cause. She was a sad woman, but sympathised greatly
with Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay, and begged that upon my
return from Washington we would make our home with
her "until better times."
Upon learning the length of time we must spend in
Cincinnati, I went at once to the Spencer House, whence
I wrote and immediately despatched notes to my old
friends, Mrs. George E. Pugh, wife of the ex-Senator, and
to Senator and Mrs. George H. Pendleton (the first a
* New York Daily News.
3 o 4 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
resident of the city, the last-named residents of Clifton,
a suburb), telling them of my unexpected presence in the
city, and hoping to see them during the day. On my
way to the hotel, I had looked about the city with in-
creasing interest and pleasure. How different it was
from our devastated country !
"You never saw the like of the fruit!' I wrote en-
thusiastically to mother. 'Grapes, oranges, apples;
such varieties of nuts cream, hazel, hickory, and English
walnuts as are on the beautiful stall just at the entrance
of the hotel! The Major has just entered, laughing
heartily at Yankee tricks and Yankee notions I He says
a man said to him, ' Insure your life, sir ? '
" ' For what ? ' says the Major.
"'For ten cents!' replies the man. 'And if you are
killed on the cars, your family gets $3,000 cash !'
" ' Three thousand ? ' rejoins Major Echols, contemptu-
ously. ' What's that to a man worth a million! ' at which
all stare as if shot. I laugh, too, but tell him I fear we
will be made to pay for his fun, if they think us mil-
lionaires ! '
The day was half gone when dear Mrs. Pugh, only a
few years ago the triumphant beauty of the Pierce and
Buchanan administrations, but now a pale, saddened
woman, clad in deep mourning, appeared. God ! what
private sorrows as well as national calamities had filled
in the years since we had separated in Washington!
The pathos of her appearance opened a very flood-gate of
tears, which I could not check. But Mrs. Pugh shed
none. She only put out a restraining hand to me.
'No tears now, I beg of you. I can't endure it.
Tell me of yourself, of your plans. Where are you going ?
What of Mr. Clay? How can I aid you?" she asked,
turning away all discussion save as to the object of my
journey.
The afternoon was already nearly spent w r hen Senator
AGAIN IN WASHINGTON 305
and Mrs. Pendleton arrived, having driven in from their
suburban home upon the receipt of my note, sent at mid-
day. Their welcome was cordial and frank as in the
old days. They had come to take me home to dinner,
where, they assured me, we might talk more freely than
at the hotel. They would take no refusal, but agreed
with Major Echols, who was unable to accompany us, to
see me safely to the station in ample time to take the
midnight train for Washington. In the hours that
followed, I learned somewhat of the experiences in
the North, during the bloody strife of the four years
just closed, of Southern sympathisers, even where their
sympathy was restrained from announcing itself by an
open espousal. Senator Pendleton's known friendliness
for Clement L. Vallandigham, whose fearlessness and out-
spoken zeal in our behalf had cost him so dearly, had
brought its own penalties. At times, he told me, when
feeling ran highest, neither his home nor that of Senator
Pugh had escaped certain malodorous missiles of the
lawless !
We spent much of the evening in scanning the prob-
lems that lay before me. I told my host of the numbers
of brilliant men who had volunteered their aid to Mr.
Clay, mentioning among others the name of Judge
Hughes, of Washington, whose friendly proffer of counsel
had reached me just previous to my departure from
Huntsville.
'By all means," said Senator Pendleton, as we drove
at last to the station, " see Judge Hughes first ! He is
strictly non-partisan, is a friend of the President's, and,
moreover, is under obligations to Mr. Clay, which I know
he would gladly repay!'
It was already a late hour when we rejoined the waiting
Major Echols. With a warm "God bless you, dear
friend!' 1 Senator and Mrs. Pendleton bade me "good-
bye," and I stepped aboard the train for Washington.
306 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
What that name called up, what my thoughts were, or
what my sensations, as I realised our approach to the city
once so attractive, but now seeming to represent to me
a place of oppression and the prison in which for six
months Mr. Clay had been incarcerated, may better be
imagined than described. Early the following morning
our train began to thread its way through familiar
country. By mid-day we had reached war-scarred
Harper's Ferry, and passed over into old Virginia ! A
short journey now, and I found myself once more driving
up Pennsylvania Avenue in the company of tried friends,
en route to Willard's.
CHAPTER XXV
SECRETARY STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY
FROM the hour of my arrival in the capital, Friday,
November iyth, my misgivings gave place to courage.
I went directly to Willard's, which, being near the
Executive Mansion and the War Department, and my
purse very slender, I believed would save me hack hire.
I had scarcely registered when General Clingman called.
He was followed shortly by Senators Garland and John-
son, of Arkansas, the vanguard of numerous friends, who
within a few hours came to extend their sympathies and
wishes for the success of my mission. During that first
day I sent a note to Colonel Johnson, Mr. Johnson's
Secretary, asking for an interview with the President
at the earliest possible date. To my great relief of mind,
within a few hours there came an answer, telling me the
President would see me the following Wednesday !
For the next few days I knew no moment alone. The
list of callers noted in my small diary necessarily was
but partial, yet even that is wonderfully long. Among
them, to my surprise and somewhat to my mystification,
were General Ihrie, Major Miller and Colonel Ayr of
Grant's staff. Their friendliness amazed me. I could
imagine no reason why they should call. General Ihrie,
moreover, assured me of his chief's kind feeling toward
my husband, and advised me to see the Lieutenant-
General at an early date.
The Sunday after my arrival, callers began to arrive
before breakfast, the first being Colonel Ogle Tayloe,
bearing an invitation from Mrs. Tayloe to dinner the
307
3 o8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
following evening. Before church hour had arrived, dear
old Mr. Corcoran came, intending to give me welcome on
his way to St. John's. He forgot to leave again until
services were over, and others returning from church
crowded in. Mr. Corcoran's manner was full of the old-
time charm, as he bade me good-bye at last ; and, as he
took my hand in parting, he said, " You've not forgotten
the little white house round the corner?' (referring to
the banking-house of Riggs & Corcoran).
;< No," I answered, smiling sadly, " You are my bankers
still, but, alas ! where are my deposits ? '
Mr. Corcoran's glance was full of kindness. Laying
his hand upon his heart, he replied, " They are here, my
friend ! " and he pressed my hand reassuringly.
I remember that Sunday as one in which tears of
gratitude rose to my eyes again and again, until at last
I exclaimed, ' It is all very strange to me ! There
appears to be none of my husband's enemies here ! It
seems to me as if everyone is his friend ! '
The following morning, however, I had an experience
calculated to arouse in me a feeling somewhat less secure.
I was still in the bath when a tap came at my door.
: ' A lady wishes to see you," was the reply to my
question.
"Who is she?" I asked.
' Don't know, ma'am. She wouldn't give her name ! ' '
'Very well," I answered. "Explain to her that I
am dressing; that unless her business is imperative, I
would prefer to have her call later."
In a few moments I heard light tapping again. Upon
my inquiry, a name was whispered through the key-
hole, which I recognised as that of the wife of a well-
known public official. I at once admitted her. The
purpose of her visit was a peculiar one. She had come
to warn me of the presence in the city of James Mont-
gomery, alias Thompson, one of the hireling witnesses
STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY 309
whose "testimony" against Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay had
been registered with the Bureau of Military Justice.
By some unfortunate connection of her own family
with this miscreant, my visitor had learned that Mont-
gomery, upon hearing of my object in visiting Washington,
had been heard to make a threat of violence against me.
The lady, who shall continue to be nameless, was so
convinced some harm threatened me that she begged
me to promise that while in the capital I would go
armed, and especially be cautious with unknown callers.
Montgomery, she added, was likely to disguise himself;
but, further to aid me in guarding against some injury
at his hands, she had brought with her a photograph of
the wretched man. Whether or not some crime was
projected against me by this man I never knew, but
the wild nature of the times warranted me in exercising,
thereafter, a prudence which otherwise would not have
occurred to me. I took counsel with friends, and,
with one exception, later to be mentioned, no occurrence
during my stay in the capital served to arouse in me a
further apprehension from that quarter.
In the days that intervened until my appointment
with the President, my hours were spent in advantageous
interviews with Judge Hughes, of Hughes & Denver,
with Judge Black, Senator Garland, Frederick A. Aiken
and others, during which I gleaned much knowledge of
what had transpired since my husband's incarceration, and
of the public feeling concerning the distinguished prisoners
at Fortress Monroe, whose trials had been so mysteriously
postponed. It was now six months since the imprison-
ment of Messrs. Davis and Clay; but in so far as might
be learned, definite charges against them had not yet
been filed at the War Department. On every side I
heard it declared that the situation was unprecedented
in English or American jurisprudence. Leading lawyers
of the country were ready and eager to appear in the
3 io A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
prisoners' behalf, but every effort made by friends to see
them thus far had been futile. In those first weeks,
reiterated proffers of legal aid continued to reach me
daily from distinguished quarters.
Upon my arrival in the capital I had put myself at
once into communication with Judge Hughes, as advised
by Senator Pendleton. His kindness was unceasing,
not only in the matter of legal advice to guide me through
the intricacies of my undertaking, but in his generous
placing at my disposal his horses and carriages, and
the services of his coachman and footman. Mrs. Hughes
was absent in the West, and the hospitality of their home,
therefore, was barred; but all that a thoughtful nature
could suggest was done by the Judge to facilitate success
in my mission.
From the first, too, Judge Jeremiah S. Black, ex-
Attorney-General, and Secretary of State under President
Buchanan, with whom I now became, for the first time,
personally acquainted, proved a bulwark of sympathy
that thereafter never failed my husband and self. He
was a peculiar man in appearance, with shaggy brows,
deep-set eyes, and a cavernous mouth, out of which
invincible arguments rolled that made men listen. This
feature was large when he spoke, but when he laughed,
the top of his head fell back like a box cover, and looked
as if it must drop over the other way. Happily for the
unfortunate, his heart was modelled on a scale as large,
and for months he gave his time and advice unstintedly
to me.
On the Wednesday appointed by the President, ac-
companied by Judge Hughes, I proceeded to keep my
appointment at the White House. One of the first
familiar faces I saw as I entered was that of Mrs. Stephen
A. Douglas, now widowed. A wait of some moments
being imminent, with the affectionate warmth so well-
known to me in other and happier days, Mrs. Douglas at
STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY 311
once volunteered to accompany me in my call upon
'the good President,'" and in a few moments we were
shown into his presence. Mr. Johnson received us
civilly, preserving, at first, what I learned afterward
to know was an habitual composure, though he softened
somewhat under the ardent appeal of Mrs. Douglas
when she urged upon him the granting of my request.
My first impression of the President, who, while a
Senator, in the fifties, had seldom been seen in social
gatherings in the capital, was that of a man upon whom
greatness, of a truth, had been thrust ; a political accident,
in fact. His hands were small and soft; his manner
was self-contained, it is true, but his face, with "cheeks
as red as June apples," was not a forceful one.
From the beginning, as Judge Black had declared he
would do, Mr. Johnson clearly wished to shirk the re-
sponsibility of my husband's case, and to throw it upon
the shoulders of his Secretary of War. His non-committal
responses to my reasons why I should have access to
my husband, why he should be tried or liberated, dis-
heartened me greatly. When Mrs. Douglas perceived
this, she added her pleadings to mine, and, as the Presi-
dent's shiftiness became more and more apparent, she
burst into tears, and, throwing herself down on her
knees before him, called upon me to follow her example.
This, however, I could not comply with. I had no
reason to respect the Tennesseean before me. That he
should have my husband's life in his power was a mon-
strous wrong, and a thousand reasons why it was wrong
flashed through my mind like lightning as I measured
him, searing it as they passed. My heart was full of
indignant protest that such an appeal as Mrs. Douglas's
should have been necessary ; but that, having been made,
Mr. Johnson could refuse it, angered me still more. I
would not have knelt to him even to save a precious
life. This first, memorable one of many, unhappy
3 i2 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
scenes at the White House, ended by the President
inviting me to call again after he had consulted his
Cabinet. At the same time he urged me to see Mr.
Stanton.
"I think you had best go to him," he said. "This
case comes strictly within the jurisdiction of the Secretary
of War, and I advise you to see him ! '
Realising the futility of further argument with
Mr. Johnson at the time, I followed his advice, going
almost immediately, and alone, to the War Department.
It was my first and last visit to Secretary Stanton, in
that day of the Government's chaos, autocrat of all the
United States and their citizens. Varying accounts of
that experience have appeared in the press during the
last thirty-seven years. The majority of them have
exaggerated the iron Secretary's treatment of me. Many
have accused him of a form of brusque brutality,* which,
while quite in keeping with his reputation, nevertheless
was not exhibited toward me.
The Secretary of War was not guilty of "tearing up in
my face and throwing in the waste-basket," as one
writer has averred, the President's note of introduction,
which I bore him, even though I was a declared " Rebel"
and the wife of a so-called conspirator and assassin. He
was simply inflexibly austere and pitiless.
Upon arriving at the War Department, I gave my
card and the President's note to the messenger in waiting,
which, from across the room, I saw handed to the Secre-
tary. He glanced at them, laid them on the desk at which
* To pass by less irreproachable witnesses, the following incident
illustrative of Mr. Stan ton's brusquerie to women was told by the
Reverend Elisha Dyer. 'While sitting in Mr. Stanton's private office,
a well-dressed lady entered. She was rather young, and very capti-
vating. Approaching the Secretary, she said, ' Excuse me, but I must
see you ! ' My old friend at once assumed the air of a bear. In a stern
voice he said, 'Madam, you have no right to come into this office, and
you must leave it ! No, Madam,' he continued, when she tried to
speak, 'not one word!' And, calling an orderly, he said, 'Take this
woman out!'" A. S.
STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY 313
he sat, and continued in conversation with a lady who
stood beside him. In a second the messenger returned,
and desired me to take a seat on a sofa, which, as it
happened, was directly in line with Mr. Stanton's desk.
In a few moments the lady with whom he had been in
conversation withdrew. As she passed me I recognised
her. She was Mrs. Kennedy, daughter of ex-Secretary
Mallory, then a prisoner in Fort Lafayette. Her face
was flushed and very sad, which I interpreted (and
rightly, as it proved) as meaning that her request had
been denied. The sight filled me with indignation. I
resolved at once to retain my seat and let the Secretary
seek me, as a gentleman should do. I was strengthened
in this determination by the conviction that he would
ignore my plea also, and I was resolved to yield him no
double victory.
After a delay of a few moments, in which the Secretary
adjusted first his glasses and then his papers, he slowly
approached me, saying, "This is Mrs. Clay, I presume?'
" And this Mr. Stanton ? " I replied.
I at once briefly, but bravely, proceeded with my
story. I told him that my object in visiting Washington
was to obtain the speedy release of my husband, who was
dying hourly under the deprivations and discipline of
prison life; or, failing this, to obtain for him an early
trial, which he desired not to shirk, but to hasten ; of the
result of which we had no fear, unless " he be given up to
that triumvirate called the 'Military Bureau of Justice,'
of which you are one, Mr. Stanton ! ' This I said with
inward trembling and with eyes brimming, but looking
him fully in the face. His own gaze fell.
"Madam," he answered. "I am not your husband's
judge "
' I know it ! ' I interrupted. ' And I am thankful for
it; and I would not have you for his accuser ! '
"Neither am I his accuser!" he continued. I could
3 i4 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
scarcely believe I had heard him aright. His manner
was gravely polite. I remember thinking at that moment,
" Can this be the rude man of whom I have heard ? Can
I have been misinformed about him ? '
"Thank you, Mr. Stanton, for those words," I said.
"I had not hoped to hear them from you. I thought
you were the bitterest of my husband's enemies ! I
assure you your words give me fresh hope ! I will tell
the President at once of this cheering interview ! '
At these expressions Mr. Stanton seemed somewhat
confused. I wondered whether he would modify or
recall his words. He did not, however, and thanking
him again for even that concession, I withdrew.
The legal friends to whom I gave an account of this
conversation were less confident as to its significance. If
Mr. Stanton was neither Mr. Clay's judge nor accuser,
who was? Some one was surely responsible for his
detention; some one with the power to obstruct justice
was delaying the trial, which the first legal minds in the
country for months had sought to bring about. If not
Mr. Stanton, could it be Mr. Holt, whose name was
already become one of abhorrence among the majority
of Southerners? Judge Black felt sure it was. But
accusation against the Judge Advocate General without
proof was impolitic, with my husband's safety still in
the balance. In a situation so serious as the present, I
should, have preferred to conciliate him.
'Have you tried to interest Judge Holt in your hus-
band's behalf?' wrote our old friend ex-Speaker Orr.
'Would not some little kind memory of the past steal
over him when you revive the morning reminiscences of
the Ebbitt House, when his much-adored wife was a
shining luminary in that bright circle? He would be
more or less than man if such a picture did not move
him. Will you try it ?"
Great, indeed, was Mr. Orr's surprise when he learned
STANTON DENIES RESPONSIBILITY 315
that I had written to Mr. Holt three times, only to meet
with complete silence at his hands !
Under such circumstances it was wiser to adhere to
my first purpose ; namely, to sue for the privilege of see-
ing Mr. Clay and for his release on parole, or for a speedy
trial. I was urged by Judge Black not to cease in my
appeals to the President; to tell the Executive of my
interview with his Secretary of War, and in the meantime
to secure from General Grant, if possible, a letter to the
President, advocating my plea. I had already been
assured by General Ihrie of his chief's ability and willing-
ness to serve me. On the evening of the second Sunday
after my arrival in Washington, therefore, I drove from
Willard's at seven o'clock, accompanied by Major Echols,
to Lieutenant-General Grant's headquarters in George-
town. I found these to be established in what was
formerly the home of our friend Mr. Alfred Scott,* of
Alabama, now deceased. Soldiers guarded the entrance,
as became a military headquarters, and one came for-
ward to take my card as we drove up. Upon his return,
Major Echols and I were shown at once to the General's
reception parlour. Dismissing the officers in uniform
who stood about, General Grant received me courteously,
tendering his hand frankly. I at once presented Major
Echols, saying that " my friend, like yourself, is a graduate
of West Point ; but, feeling bound to offer his allegiance
to his native South, he had served with distinction at
Fort Sumter," which introduction, I imagined, pleased
the General, though it disconcerted my modest escort.
I now briefly, and in some trepidation at finding myself
face to face with the " Hero of the Hour ! ' the " Coming
Man," "Our next President" (for by these and many
other titles was the hero of Appomattox already crowned),
explained as succinctly as I could my motive in calling
* Mr. Scott's daughter is the wife of the widely known Dr. Garnett,
of Hot Springs, Arkansas.
3 i6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
upon him, closing my remarks with the assurance that
the one circumstance prompting me to ask his aid was
not his army victories, but his noble conduct to our
beloved General Lee in his recent surrender. I was con-
vinced, I added, that the man who had borne himself so
magnanimously toward a brave soldier whom he had
vanquished, possessed the soul to espouse and sustain
a cause, if just, though all the world opposed. It was in
this faith I had come to him.
The Federal General listened very gravely. When I
had finished he responded in his characteristic, quiet
way: "If it were in my power, Mrs. Clay, I would to-
morrow open every prison in the length and breadth of
the land. I would release every prisoner unless "
(after a pause) "unless Mr. Davis might be detained
awhile to satisfy public clamour. Your husband's
manly surrender entitles him to all you ask. I admire
and honour him for it, and anything I can say or do to
assist you shall be done. I heartily wish you success."
I asked him, in the course of our conversation, if he
would go with me to the White House the next day, at
any hour, day or evening.
" That is impossible, ' ' he said. ' I leave at midnight for
Richmond."
" Would you be willing to write what you have spoken ? ' :
'With pleasure!' he replied. Going to the door he
called, "Julia!"
In a moment Mrs. Grant entered the room. She shook
my hand with the cordiality of a friend, saying, as she
did so, 'We have many mutual friends in St. Louis."
She then expressed her deep sympathy for me, and hoped
her husband could serve me with the President.
In a few moments General Grant returned with the
promised letter. I thanked him from a grateful heart.
Upon rising to go, he accompanied me half down the
steps, where, with a hearty shake of the hand, we parted.
CHAPTER XXVI
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE OF C. C. CLAY, JR.
ARMED with General Grant's letter, my hopes at once
rose high. It seemed to my eager and innocent mind
that an ally so really great could not fail to convince the
President and his Cabinet of the wisdom of granting my
plea in whole or in part. I began to feel that the cul-
mination of my husband's troubles was now approaching.
I hastened to send the letter to Mr. Johnson. It read as
follows :
'WASHINGTON, D. C., Nov. 26, 1865.
'His Excellency A. JOHNSON,
'President of the United States.
"Sir: As it has been my habit heretofore to intercede for
the release of all prisoners who I thought could safely be left
at large, either on parole or by amnesty, I now respectfully
recommend the release of Mr. C. C. Clay.
'The manner of Mr. Clay's surrender, I think, is a full guar-
antee that if released on parole, to appear when called for,
either for trial or otherwise, that he will be forthcoming.
"Argument, I know, is not necessary in this or like cases,
so I will simply say that I respectfully recommend that C. C.
Clay, now a State prisoner, be released on parole, not to leave
the limits of his State without your permission, and to sur-
render himself to the civil authorities for trial whenever called
on to do so.
'I do not know that I would make a special point of fixing
the limits to a State only, but at any future time the limits
could be extended to the whole United States, as well as if
those limits were given at once.
; 'I have the honour to be,
'Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
(Signed.) "U. S. GRANT, Lieutenant General."*
* The letter here given is from a copy furnished Mrs. Clay by Robert
Morrow, Secretary in 1866.
317
3 i8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
In my note accompanying the General's recommenda^
tion, I begged to repeat my request that I be allowed to
visit Mr. Clay at Fortress Monroe, and that I be furnished
with copies of the charges against him, in order that I
might consult with him as to the proper means to disprove
them, in the event of his being brought to trial. After a
two days' silence on the part of the Executive, I wrote
a note of inquiry to Mr. Johnson. The reply that reached
me was not calculated to stimulate my erstwhile hope-
fulness.
" I cannot give you any reply to your note of this inst.,"
wrote Colonel Robert Johnson, on the 3oth of November,
"except that the President has the letter of General
Grant. No action has yet been had. I will bring the
matter before the President during the day, and will
advise you."
And now, indeed, I began to be aware how all-powerful
was the hidden force that opposed the taking of any
action on my husband's case. Again and again there-
after I called upon President Johnson, pleading at first
for his intervention on my behalf; but, upon the third
visit, when he again suggested that I "see Mr. Stanton,"
I could refrain no longer from an outburst of completest
indignation. I was accompanied on this and on almost
all my innumerable later visits to the White House by
Mrs. Bouligny, who witnessed, I fear, many an astonishing
passage at arms between President Johnson and me. On
the occasion just touched upon, aroused by Mr. Johnson's
attempt to evade the granting of my request, I answered
him promptly:
" I will not go to Mr. Stanton, Mr. President ! You
issued the proclamation charging my husband with crime !
You are the man to whom I look for redress ! '
'I was obliged to issue it," Mr. Johnson replied, "to
satisfy public clamour. Your husband's being in Canada
while Surratt and his associates were there made it
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 319
neccessary to name him and his companions with the
others!"
" And do you believe, for one moment, that my husband
would conspire against the life of President Lincoln?'
I burst out indignantly. ' Do you, who nursed the breast
of a Southern mother, think Mr. Clay could be guilty of
that crime?'
Mr. Johnson disclaimed such a belief at once.
' Then, on what grounds do you detain one whom you
believe an innocent man, and a self-surrendered prisoner ? '
I asked.
But here the President, as he did in many instances
throughout those long and, to me, most active days in
the capital, resorted to his almost invariable habit of
evading direct issues; yet it was not long ere I was
given reason to feel that he, personally, sincerely
wished to serve me, though often appearing to be but
an instrument in the hands of more forceful men, whom
he lacked the courage to oppose, and who were directly
responsible for my husband's detention. Before the end
of December the President gave me a valuable and secret
proof that his sympathies were with rather than against
Mr. Clay.
Until the sixth of December, nearly seven months after
my husband's surrender, no formal charges had -been
filed against him with a view to placing him on trial, or
on which to base his continued imprisonment. During
that time, the visits of counsel being denied him, there
was not in the capital one who was vitally concerned
in his or Mr. Davis's case, though certain unique aspects
of the cases of the two distinguished prisoners of the
Government had invited a more or less continuous
professional interest in them.
At the time of my reappearance in Washington, though
the city was filled with distinguished pardon-seekers, and
with Southerners who had been summoned on various
3 20 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
grounds, to explain their connection with the late Con-
federate States' Government, interest in the prisoners at
Fortress Monroe became quickened. The Legislature of
the State of Alabama drew up and forwarded a memorial
to the President, asking for Mr. Clay's release. Prominent
lawyers besides those whose letters I have quoted wrote
volunteering their aid, Senator Garland, Mr. Carlisle, and
Frederick A. Aiken, counsel for Mrs. Surratt, among
them. Through Mr. Aiken, already familiar with the
means employed by the Military Commission to convict
their prisoners, I gained such information as was then
available as to the probable charges which would be
made against Mr. Clay.
" I send you the argument of Assistant Judge Advocate
General Bingham, in the Surratt trial," he wrote on
November 25th. . . . 'This argument has been
distributed broadcast over the country, and the opinion
of the Republican party educated to think it true ! It
seems to me," he added, "that a concisely written argu-
ment in favour of Mr. Clay, on the evidence as it stands,
would be useful with the President."
In the midst of this awakening of our friends on Mr.
Clay's behalf, the Government's heretofore (from me)
concealed prosecutor, Mr. Holt, presented to the War
Department his long-delayed and elaborately detailed
"Report on the case of C. C. Clay, Jr." On the face
c f it, his action at this time appeared very much like an
eitort to checkmate any influence my presence might
awaken on the prisoner's behalf. Upon learning of this
movement I at once applied to the War Department for an
opportunity to examine the Report. It was not accorded
me. After some days, learning of Mr. Stanton's absence
from the city, and acting on the suggestion of Mr. Johnson,
on the 2oth of December I addressed Mr. Holt by letter
for the third and last time. I asked for a copy of
the charges against my husband, and also for the return
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 321
of my private correspondence, which had been taken from
me, in part, at Macon, and part from my home in Hunts-
ville. Days passed without the least acknowledgment
from the Judge Advocate.
It was at this juncture that Mr. Johnson's friendliness
was exhibited toward me; for, happening to call upon
him while the document was in his hands, I told him of
my ill success and growing despair at the obstacles that
were presented to the granting of my every request at
the War Department.* I begged him to interpose and
assist me to an interview with Mr. Clay, but, above all, at
this important moment, to aid me in getting a copy of
the charges now formulated against him. Thereupon,
exacting from me a promise of complete secrecy, the
President delivered his official copy of the 'Report'
into my hands, that I might peruse it and make such
excerpts as would aid me. I did more than this, however ;
for, hastening back with it to the home of Mrs. A. S.
Parker, which had been generously thrown open to me,
I spent the night in copying the document in full.
The list of accusations against my husband was long.
It represented "testimony" which the Bureau of Military
Justice had spent six months, and, as later transpired,
many thousands of dollars, in collecting, and was a digest
of the matter sworn to in the Judge Advocate's presence.
* For months Mr. Holt's Report was steadily refused to the public.
Referring to this secretive conduct, in July, 1866, A. J. Rogers said, in
the House of Representatives, "Secrecy has surrounded and shrouded,
not to say protected, every step of these examinations. In the words
of the late Attorney- General, 'Most of the evidence upon which they
[the charges] are based was obtained ex parte, without notice to the
accused, and whilst they were in custody in military prisons. Their
publication might wrong the Government.' . . . The Secretary of
War, February 7, 1866, writes to the President that the publication
of the Report of the Judge Advocate General is incompatible with the
public interests. This report," continues Mr. Rogers, "in the tes-
timony it quotes, will show that the interests of the country would
never have suffered by the dispensing with illegal secrecy, but that
the interests and fame of the Judge Advocate General himself would
suffer in the eyes of all the truth-loving and justice-seeking people on
earth." A, S,
322 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
As I read and copied on during that night, the reason
for Mr. Holt's persistent disregard of my letters became
obvious. No official, no man who, for months, against
the protests of some of the most substantial citizens, the
most brilliant lawyers of the country, had been so de-
terminedly engaged, in secret effort to prove a former
friend and Congressional associate to be deserving of the
gallows, could be expected to do anything but to avoid
a meeting with the wife of his victim. In December, 1 860,
when Mr. Clay's position as a Secessionist was known to
be unequivocal, Mr. Holt, .whose personal convictions
were then somewhat less clearly declared, had written, on
the occasion of my husband's illness, 'It is my earnest
prayer that a life adorned by so many graces may be long
spared to our country, whose councils so need its genius
and patriotism!' In December, 1865, basing his
charges against his former friend a former United
States Senator, whose integrity had never suffered ques-
tion ; a man religious to the point of austerity ; a scholar,
of delicate health and sensibilities, and peculiarly fastidi-
ous in the selection of those whom he admitted to in-
timacy , Mr. Holt, I repeat, basing his accusations
against such a one-time friend upon the purchased
testimony of social and moral outcasts, designated
Mr. Clay in terms which could only be regarded as the
outspurting of venomous malice, or of a mind rendered
incapable of either logic or truth by reason of an ex-
cessive fanaticism.
Under this man's careful marshalling, the classes of
'crimes which Clay is perceived to have inspired and
directed' were frightful and numerous. The "most
pointed proof of Clay's cognisance and approval of
[alleged] "deeds of infamy and treason" lay in the depo-
sition of G. J. Hyams" (so reads the Report), "testimony
which illustrates the treacherous and clandestine char-
acter of the machinations in which Clay was engaged,"
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 323
to the complete satisfaction of Mr. Holt.* One of the
most curious pieces of evidence of the Judge Advocate's
really malignant design in that virulent "Report' lies
in his wilful perversion of a statement which Mr. Clay had
made by letter to the Secretary of War. My husband
had written that, at the time of seeing Mr. Johnson's
Proclamation for his arrest (during the second week in
May), he had been nearly six months absent from Canada,
a fact so well known that had Mr. Clay ever been brought
to trial a hundred witnesses could have testified to its
accuracy. Mr. Holt, to whom the Secretary of War,
"while denying the access of counsel to his prisoner, had
confided Mr. Clay's letter, now altered the text as follows:
'In connection with the testimony in this case, as
thus presented, may be noticed the assertions of Clay in
his recent letters to the Secretary of War, that at the date
of the assassination, he, Clay, had been absent from
Canada nearly six months."
The substitution of the word :< assassination' 1 for
'proclamation' made a difference of one month, or
nearly so, in the calculations by which Mr. Holt was at-
tempting to incriminate and to preclude a sympathy for
his defenseless victim, my husband. After thus subtly
manipulating Mr. Clay's statement in such way as to give
it the appearance of a falsehood, Mr. Holt next proceeded
to stamp it as such, and decreed that this " remain as the
judgment of the Department upon the communications of
this false and insolent traitor !'
* It is to be added," this remarkable Report continues,
'upon the single point of the duration of his stay in
Canada, that it is declared by two unimpeached witnesses!
* Hyams, alias Harris, was one of the witnesses who, six months
before the date of Mr. Holt's Report, had been exposed by the Rev.
Stuart Robinson, and who, six months later, or less, himself confessed
his perjuries to the Judiciary Committee. A. S.
t But not unimpeachable, as later events proved. They were after-
ward denounced by Mr. Holt as unprincipled perjurers and the cause
of all his trouble. A. S.
3 2 4 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
that he was seen by them in Canada in February last.
It may be said that this Bureau has now ''no doubt that
it will be enabled, by means of additional witnesses, to
fix the term of Clay's stay in Canada even more pre-
cisely than it has already been made to appear."*
Having now carried, through many pages, his charges
of numerous and basest crimes against Mr. Clay, Mr.
Holt sums up his Report thus:
" It may, therefore, be safely assumed that the charge
against Clement C. Clay, of having incited the assassination
of the President, is relieved of all improbability by his
previous history and criminal surroundings! '
It must not be supposed that my woman's mind at
once recognised the real atrocity of these charges in that
first reading, or identified the palpable inaccuracies in
them; nor that fortifying deductions immediately made
themselves plain to me. As was said of another Holt
document, sent later to the House by the Judge Advocate
General himself, every sentence of the Report before me
was " redolent with the logic of prosecution, revealing
something of the personal motive. There was certainly
nothing in it of the amicus curiae spirit, nothing of the
searcher after truth ; nothing but the avidity of the mili-
tary prosecutor for blood."
At that time, denied access to my husband, his papers
and journal scattered, my own retained by the War
Department, I possessed nothing with which to combat
Judge Holt's accusations, save an instinctive conviction
* In fact, as will have been seen elsewhere, Mr. Clay arrived in South
Carolina on the fourth of February, 1865, after a full month's journey-
ing by stormy sea from Nova Scotia to Bermuda; thence on the ill-
fated Rattlesnake, which, failing to make its way into port at Wilming-
ton, now in the hands of the Federals, with delay and circumlocution,
ran the blockade at Charleston, only to perish under the very ramparts
of Fort Moultrie. His return, therefore, was sufficiently dramatic, and
known to hundreds of truly unimpeachable witnesses, had the Judge
Advocate allowed Mr. Clay to know the charges against him or given
him an opportunity for denial. A. S.
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 325
that when once the charges were made known to Mr.
Clay, he would be able to refute them.
That this elaborately detailed, this secretly and
laboriously gathered category of crime was destined
months hence to be turned to the open contempt and
shame of the Judge who drew it up, I had no consoling
prescience, and not even the most astute of my coun-
sellors foresaw. Three months after Mr. Clay's conditional
release, in April, 1866, however, Representative Rogers,
in his report to the Judiciary Committee appointed by
the House, revealed to the body there assembled the
"utterly un-American proceedings of the Military
Bureau" and the strange conduct of its head.
After a detailed report on the testimony which, having
been given to the Bureau of Military Justice, the wit-
nesses now acknowledged before the House Committee
to have been false, Mr. Rogers continued :
"Who originated this plot I cannot ascertain. I am
deeply impressed that there is guilt somewhere, and I
earnestly urge upon the House an investigation of the
origin of the plot, concocted to alarm the nation, to
murder and dishonour innocent men, and to place the
Executive in the undignified position of making, under
proclamation, charges which cannot . . 4 stand a
preliminary examination before a justice of the peace.
. . . But that no time was left me to pursue to the
head the villainies I detected in the hand, I might have
been able plainly to tell Congress and the country that if,
in this plot, we had a Titus Oates in Conover,* so also we
had a Shaftesbury somewhere."
Many newspapers, the New York Herald and Washing-
ton Intelligencer in the lead, also began to reiterate the
demand for a public inquiry into the strange workings of
* Conpver was the chief witness in the cases of Mrs. Surratt and her
companions, and Mr. Holt's charges against Mr. Clay were based on
his testimony and that of others who had been drilled in their parts by
Conover, A. .
326 : A ; A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the Bureau of Military Justice. Rumours ran over the
country that ' persons in high places who deemed it for
their best interest to show complicity on the part of
Davis and others in the assassination of Lincoln, by
false testimony or otherwise, will find themselves held up
to public gaze in a manner they little dream of." *
Two months later Mr. Holt issued a pamphlet which,
under the heading, ' Vindication of Jtidge Holt from the
Foul Slanderers of Traitors, Confessed Perjurers and
Suborners acting in the interest of Jefferson Davis,'" was
scattered broadcast over the country. It is improbable
that any parallel to this snarl of defiance was ever sent
out by a weak but, by no means, an apologetic offender
in high office. The pamphlet covers eight full pages of
admissions as to the deceptions which he claimed had
been practised upon him, but contains no line of regret
for the tyranny he had exercised, and which had con-
demned distinguished and innocent men to lie for months
in damp dungeons, prey to a thousand physical ills and
mental torments. Mr. Holt's vindication began as follows :
' To all loyal men ! In the name of simple justice . . .
your attention is respectfully invited to the subjoined
article f from the Washington Chronicle, $ of yesterday,
* The public, however, was not destined to be treated to a spectacle
so likely to react to the Government's dishonour. Mr. Holt, who for
a year caused to be denied to the prisoners (one of whom had been a
Cabinet Minister, the other a United States Senator) even the visits
of counsel, now, for some forever unexplained reason, instead of arrest-
ing the perjurer Conover, after his admissions in the Committee room
of the House, talked to him kindly, and extended him the courtesy of
a trip to New York, in order that he might procure further testimony.
Once arrived, the polite swindler excused himself to his companion,
and, bowing himself out, "was not seen by him thereafter," said Mr.
Holt; and he adds naively, "and up to this time he has not communi-
cated with me, nor has he made any effort, as I believe, to produce the
witnesses !" A. S.
t In part an interview with Mr. Holt, and the whole most obviously
inspired by him.
| Practically the only voice now raised in an attempt to explain or
justify the Advocate General's unique methods. While denying his
knavishness, it had the singular appearance of developing his" foolish-
ness. A. S.
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 327
as representing a perfectly true vindication of myself
from the atrocious calumny with which traitors and
suborners are now so basely pursuing me. Joseph Holt.' !
'It is clear," says this "vindicatory" excerpt, 'that a
conspiracy has been formed to defame the Judge Advocate
General and the Bureau of Military Justice. ... At
the bottom of this conspiracy, or actively engaged in
executing its purposes, is Sanford Conover, who, after
having been fully proved guilty of subornation or perjury,*
has unquestionably sold himself to the friends of Davis f
and is seeking with them to destroy the reputation of a
public officer { whose confidence he gained, as we shall
hereafter see, by the same solemn protestations, and
which confidence he subsequently most treacherously
abused. ... A more cold-blooded plot for the
assassination of character [sic] has never been concocted
in any age or country ! '
It will be seen, Mr. Holt now overlooked the months
in which he, supported in his secret work by the Secretary
of War, and with almost unlimited powers vested in him,
had been engaged in plotting with the same tools, though
warned of their evil careers, against the lives of gentlemen
of irreproachable character and antecedents; against
my husband, who had with confidence in its integrity
placed himself in the hands of the Government in the
expectation of a fair and impartial trial.
Mr. Holt's " Vindication " continues : " Conover, though
now wholly degraded, was then, so far as was known to
the Government, without a stain upon his character."
* Conover had obviated the necessity for proving, by confessing, his
own infamy. A. S.
f Now for sixteen months a prisoner in Fortress Monroe, and denied
trial or counsel ! A. S.
J It is hard to believe that, if Mr. Holt's reputation had survived the
doubt thrown upon it by the House Committee, in the preceding July,
it could be seriously injured by anything that might be averred by so
vile a man as his former ally, Conover. A. S.
328 *' ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
(The thoughtful reader must naturally turn to the
accusations of the Reverend Stuart Robinson, made
publicly to the Government representative, Hon. H. H.
Emmons, and, by the press, scattered through the
country fifteen months previous to this declaration in
Mr. Holt's " Vindication.") " Hence, when he wrote me,"
continues the aggrieved Judge Advocate General, :< alleg-
ing the existence of testimony implicating Davis and
others, and his ability to find the witnesses, and proffering
his services to do so, I did not hesitate to accept his
statements and proposals as made in good faith and en-
titled to credit and to consideration."
In the " Report' on the case of Mr. Clay, dated
December 6, 1865, which, by the courtesy of the President,
I was enabled to see, Mr. Holt's willing adoption of the
fabrications of his unscrupulous 'witnesses' was ap-
parent in every phrase. In fact, its spirit of malice
terrified me. I kept faith with Mr. Johnson and told no
one of the knowledge I now possessed; but I communi-
cated some of the main points of the " Report" to Judge
Black and other advisers, and, resolving that I would
neve r cease until I attained my point, I redoubled my
pleadings with the President for the permission to visit
my husband, which request I now knew it would be useless
to make at the War Department. When I returned the
!< Report' to the President, I was keyed to a high pitch
of alarm by the spirit shown by the Advocate General,
and my requests now took another form.
' It is said, Mr. Johnson, that you have refused to allow
the Military Court, composed of Messrs. Holt, Speed and
Stanton, to try Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay." The President
bowed affirmatively.
' Then I pray you to give me your solemn oath in the
presence of the living God, that you will never, while in
this Presidential chair, yield those two innocent men into
the hands of that blood-seeking Military Commission ! "
MR. HOLT REPORTS UPON THE CASE 329
I was greatly agitated, and weeping. Mr. Johnson,
however, was calm and seemingly deeply in earnest as he
answered me,
' I promise you, Mrs. Clay ; trust me ! '
'I will; I do !" I cried, 'but I would like you to em-
phasise this sacred oath, remembering the precious lives
that hang upon it."
Upon this Mr. Johnson raised his hand and repeated
his promise, adding again, " trust me ! '
After this interview I felt a sense of security which
gave me comparative repose of mind, but, nevertheless,
I called almost daily, to fortify Mr. Johnson against the
continued machinations of those officials whose influence
was so inimical to my husband and Mr. Davis. I now
began to perceive that Judge Black, Senator Garland and
others had said truly when they remarked to me that Mr.
Johnson might be moved, if at all, by his heart rather
than by his head. He had already given me a strong
proof of this ; soon he gave me others.
The Christmas season was approaching, and while all
about me were arranging their little gaieties and sur-
prises, the realisation of Mr. Clay's isolation and discom-
forts and peril became more and more poignant. To
add to the sadness of our situation, letters from Hunts-
ville containing pathetic allusions to the failing health of
my husband's mother now began to follow each other
rapidly. I was urged to act quickly if she and her son
were to meet on earth again. In my letters to Mr. Clay
I dared not tell him of this approaching disaster, for
between himself and his mother an unusually tender rela-
tionship existed. I dreaded the alarm such news might
give him, alone and ill in his dismal prison, exhausted
as he was with waiting for direct communication with
me. I had already been a month in Washington without
having effected a meeting with him. Under the circum-
stances, the headway gained seemed inappreciable. With
330 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
a copy of Holt's " Report " in my possession, I resolved to
go on to New York for consultation with Mr. O 'Conor,
Mr. Shea, and Mr. Greeley, so soon as I should receive
some definite concession from the President.
I now told Mr. Johnson of Mrs. Clay's condition, and
begged him to release my husband, if only to permit him
one interview with his probably dying mother, to return
again to custody if the President so wished ; or, failing the
granting of this, to allow me to visit him in prison. At
last, after much reiteration on my part, Mr. Johnson
yielded ; he promised that he would issue the permit for
my visit to Fort Monroe on his own responsibility in a few
days ; that I might rely upon receiving it upon my return
from the metropolis.
Hastening to New York, I was soon made aware by
Messrs. O 'Conor, Shea and Greeley, who called upon me
severally, that my one course now was to persist in my
effort to precipitate a trial for my husband, or to procure
his release on parole, in which these gentlemen stood
ready to supplement me, and, upon the announcement of
a trial, to defend Mr. Clay.
My interview with Mr. Greeley took place in one of the
public corridors of the New York hotel, now thronging
with Southern guests, and, as I sat beside him on a settle,
in earnest conversation with the fatherly old man, his bald
'temple of thought" gleaming under the gaslights, which
threw their fullest brilliancy upon us, I remember seeing
several prominent Southern generals then registered at the
hotel glance repeatedly at us, and always with a look of
surprise that said very plainly, " Well! If there isn't Mrs.
Clem. Clay hobnobbing with that old Abolitionist ! "
CHAPTER XXVII
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES
MR. JOHNSON kept his word. Late in December I
found myself on my way to Baltimore with the Presi-
dent's autographed permit in hand, that would admit
me to my husband's prison. I left Washington on the
afternoon of the 2yth of December, going by train to Bal-
timore. Here, crossing the city in an omnibus with other
passengers, to the wharf of the "New Line Steamers,' 3 ' I
was soon on board the boat, the George Leary, bound for
Norfolk and Fortress Monroe. I was so keenly alive to
my own lonely condition that I could not bring myself
even to register my name among the list of happier pas-
sengers. Everywhere about me gaily dressed people
thronged. I saw among them General Granger and wife,
his staff, and ladies of the party. As the George Leary
pulled out from her moorings, the brass band of a com-
pany of soldiers bound for Norfolk began to play sweet,
old-time airs. I had no desire to linger among the care-
free throng, and, calling the stewardess, handed her a
gold-piece, saying, " Can you sign for me or get me a state-
room? I only go to Fortress Monroe."
In a few moments she returned, regarding me inquir-
ingly.
* Lady !" she asked, "ain't you the wife of one of those
gentlemen down at the Fort?"
"Yes ! " I answered. " I am the wife of Mr. Clay, the
prisoner ! '
Thereupon she opened her hand, displaying my gold-
piece, saying, 'The captain says he can't take any fare
332 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
from you. Hell be here in a little while ! " And she
moved away.
In a few moments the tall, gaunt Captain Blakeman
stood before me.
"Are you Mrs. Clay ?" he asked. " Wife of the prisoner
at Fortress Monroe?"
Upon receiving my affirmative answer, the Captain
spoke earnestly.
" Mrs. Clay, you have my deep sympathy. I'm a regular
Down-Easter myself a Maine man ; but for forty years
I've plied a boat between Northern and Southern cities;
and I know the Southern people well. I think it is a
damned shame the way the Government is behaving
toward you and Mrs. Davis ! '
For a moment the tears blinded me, seeing which the
Captain at once withdrew, comprehending the thanks he
saw I could not utter. However, when the gong sounded
for supper, he returned, and with kindly tact led me to a
place beside him at the table, though I assured him I
wanted nothing. At my obvious lack of appetite he
showed a very woman's thoughtfulness, himself preparing
the viands before me while he urged me 'to drink my
coffee. You must take something," he said from time to
time, whenever he perceived a lagging interest in the
dishes before me. Nor did this complete his kindnesses,
for on the following morning, as I left the boat, Captain
Blakeman handed me a slip of paper on which was written :
'NEW LINE STEAMERS, BALTIMORE, December 27, 1865.
'Will please pass free Mrs. C. C. Clay, rooms and meals
included, to all points as she wishes, and oblige,
S. BLAKEMAN,
Commanding Steamer George Leary.
I hope you will use this pass as often as you need it,
he said.
We arrived at Fortress Monroe at four o'clock the next
morning. As I stepped from the gangplank, the scene
" Commanding Steamer George Leary."
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 333
about me was black and bleak, the air wintry. Save for
a few dozing stevedores here and there, whom I soon per-
ceived, the wharf was quite deserted. It had been my
intention, upon my arrival, to go directly to the little
Hygeia Hotel just outside the Fort, but upon the advice of
Captain Blakeman I accepted the shelter offered me by
the clerk in charge of the wharf, and rested until daylight
in his snug little room just off from the office.
Just before leaving Washington I had written to Dr.
Craven, telling him of my intended visit to the prison,
and asking him to meet me at the little hotel. I now, at
the first streak of dawn, still acting upon the suggestions of
the kind captain, found a messenger and sent him with a
note to General Miles, telling him of my arrival with the
President's permit to see my husband, and asking that an
ambulance be sent to convey me to the Fort; and I
despatched a second to Dr. Craven to tell him my where-
abouts. Unknown to me, that friendly physician, whose
humane treatment of Mr. Davis and my husband had
brought upon him the disapproval of the War Depart-
ment, had already been removed from his station at the
Fort. My messenger found him, nevertheless, and upon
receipt of my message he came and made himself
known to me. His words were few, and not of a charac-
ter to cheer one in my forlorn condition.
'Look for no kindness, Mrs. Clay," he said, "at the
hands of my successor, Dr. Cooper. He is the blackest of
Black Republicans, and may be relied upon to show the
prisoners little mercy."
Our interview was brief, and, as the Fort ambulance
was seen approaching, the Doctor left me hurriedly.
"For," said he, ; 'it will do neither you nor the prisoners
any good if you are seen talking with me." He had
scarcely disappeared in the grey morning when the escort
from the Fort arrived. The vehicle was manned by two
handsome Union soldiers, one, Major Hitchcock of
334 - A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
General Miles 's staff, and the other Lieutenant Muhlen-
berg, a grandson, as I afterward learned, of the author of
"I would not live alway." Months afterward, when
Mr. Clay left the Fortress, he carried with him the little
volume containing Bishop Muhlenberg's verses, a gift
from the young lieutenant.
Arrived at the Fort, I was taken at once to the head-
quarters of General Miles, and conducted to a room com-
modiously and even luxuriously furnished. In a short
time the General made his appearance. He was polite
and even courteous in the examination of my passport,
which he scanned carefully; but his manner was non-
committal as he politely asked me to 'be seated.' 1 I
seated myself and waited. The General withdrew.
After the lapse of a few moments, an orderly appeared,
bearing upon a salver a tempting breakfast; but I, who
had spent months in seeking the privilege I had now come
to claim, could touch nothing. I declined the food, say-
ing I would wait and breakfast with my husband. The
orderly looked perplexed, but removed the tray ; and now
a dreary and inexplicable wait began, interbroken with
first a nervous, then an indignant, and at last a tearful
inquiry. During the morning I affected a nonchalance
wholly at variance with my real feelings. Picking up a
book that lay at my elbow on the table, I was surprised to
see a familiar name upon the fly -leaf . I commented upon
the luxury of the apartment when next General Miles
entered, and added, " These books seem to have been Gov-
ernor Wise's property/ 1 The General was quick to defend
himself from any suggestion that might lie in my words.
He replied at once. " These headquarters were furnished
by General Butler before I was sent here !"
Midday came and still the President's autographed
permit, which to me had seemed so powerful a document,
was not honoured. A savoury luncheon was now brought
in, but a nausea of nervousness had seized me and I could
DR. HENRY C. VOGELL
Fortress Monroe, 1866
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 335
not eat a morsel. My excitement increased momentarily,
until the distress of mind and apprehension were wholly
beyond my control. I now implored General Miles to
let me see my husband, if only for a moment ; to explain
this delay in the face of the President's order. I begged
him to allow me to telegraph to Washington ; but to all
my pleadings his only reply was to urge me to "be calm."
He assured me he regretted the delay, but that "his
orders" were such that he could neither admit me to my
husband's room, nor allow me to use the Government
wires at present.
By the middle of the afternoon, faint with pleadings
and worn with indignation and fears at the unknown
powers which dared thus to obstruct the carrying out of
the President's orders, not knowing what might yet be
before me, my self-possession entirely deserted me. I
remember, during my hysterical weeping, crying out to
General Miles, ' ' If you are ever married, I pray God your
wife may never know an hour like this ! '
In the midst of an uncontrollable paroxysm which
seized me at last, Dr. Vogell, who has been variously
designated as the private secretary and instructor of
General Miles, entered. During the day General Miles
had presented the Doctor to me, and, in his subsequent
passing and repassing through the room, we had from
time to time exchanged a remark. He was a tall, pictu-
resque man, of possibly sixty years. At the sight of my
culminating misery, Dr. Vogell could bear the distressful
scene no longer. He cried out impulsively, "Miles, for
God's sake, let the woman go to her husband ! '
Unhappily, this manly outburst, though it had its own
message of sympathy for me, failed as utterly to move
the commanding General Miles as had my previous
urgings. In the months that followed, Dr. Vogell often
called upon me clandestinely in Washington (announced
as " Mr. Brown "), to say that " a friend of yours was quite
33 6 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
well this morning, and desired his love given you ! "
The recollection of his kindnesses lives imperishable in
my memory, but especially vivid is that first upwelling
sympathy during the painful waiting at the Fort.
General Miles seemed not untouched by my pleadings,
but, it was evident, he felt himself subject to a superior
power which forced him to refuse them. His manner
throughout, in fact, was courteous and apologetic.
Despite my agony of mind, it was late in the afternoon
ere the President's order was honoured. Then General
Miles entered, and, with an appearance of completest
relief, consigned me, tear-stained and ill, to the care of
Lieutenant Stone, who conducted me to Mr. Clay's prison.
All day my husband, to whom there had penetrated a
rumour of my coming, had been waiting for me, himself
tortured by fears for my safety and by the mystery
of my delay. The gloomy corridors, in which soldiers
patrolled night and day, guarding the two delicate
prisoners of State, were already darkening with the
early evening shadows when, at last, I saw my husband,
martyr to his faith in the honour of the Government,
standing within the grating, awaiting me. The sight
of his tall, slender form, his pale face and whitened hair,
awaiting me behind those dungeon bars, affected me
terribly. My pen is too feeble to convey the weakness
that overcame me as Lieutenant Stone inserted and
turned the key in the massive creaking lock and admitted
me ; nor shall I attempt to revive here the brief hours
that followed, with their tumultuous telling over of the
happenings of the past months and our hurried planning
for the future.
I returned to the capital full of sorrow and indignation.
My adventure at Fortress Monroe had revealed to me, far
more fully than I previously had suspected was possible,
the struggle for power that was now going on between the
Secretary of War, Mr. Stanton, on the one side, and
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 337
on the other, President Johnson, by whose courtesy
or timidity this official still retained his portfolio. I
resolved to relate my entire experience at Fortress
Monroe to the President at the first opportunity.
In the meantime, my husband, with whom I had left
a digest of Holt's report, upon a careful perusal of it,
had been greatly aroused. By the courtesy of a secret
friend, he hastened to send me a list of persons who could,
if called upon, readily testify to his whereabouts during
certain periods described in the charges against him.
He urged me to see the President, and not to cease in my
efforts to obtain his release on parole. His condition of
mind as expressed in this communication was, it was
evident, one of intense excitement.
'You must not get discouraged!' he wrote. "My
life depends upon it, I fear! Since the days of Cain and
Judas, men may take life for money or some other selfish
end. As innocent men as I am have been judicially
murdered, and I do not feel secure from it, although
God knows I feel innocent of crime against the United
States or any citizen thereof. As to my declaring my
purpose to surrender to meet the charge of assassination,
my unwillingness to fly from such charge, my preferring
death to living with that brand on me, my desire to
exculpate Mr. Davis, myself and the South from it, you
know as well as I do.
'Judge Holt is determined to sacrifice me for reasons
given you.* He may do it if I am not allowed liberty to
* In the preparation for the publication of these Memoirs, I found
myself continually lighting upon evidences of irregularity in the Gov-
ernment's proceedings against Mr. Clay. I was met constantly by what
appeared to be a persistent and inexplicable persecution of Messrs.
Davis and Clay (if not a plot against them, as hinted by Representa-
tive Rogers) at the hands of the War Department, acting through
Mr. Joseph Holt. I encountered charges, not ambiguously made
against Mr. Holt, of malice, and of rancour which would be satisfied
only with the "judicial murder" of the prisoners in his hands. Charges
of malice and meanness have been made against him by living men as
frequently as by those who have passed away; men, moreover, whose
33 8 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
seek witnesses and prepare my defense; or, if I am sub-
jected to the mockery of trial by Military Court, when
all the charges he can make may be brought against me
in a great drag-net."
As a step toward securing an early interview, and also
because the President's daughters, Mrs. Stover and
integrity of purpose has never been challenged. A rather general con-
demnation of Mr. Holt appears in certain correspondence of the six-
ties. It was uttered publicly in the press in the early and middle por-
tion of that decade. In the pamphlet alluded to and quoted from in
Chapter XXII. of these "Memoirs," the Rev. Stuart Robinson had
quoted Mr. Crittenden, of Kentucky, and another, to show the peculiar
estimate in which Mr. Holt was then held. "I know little," wrote Mr.
Robinson, in June of '65, "either of the personal or public character of
Mr. Holt. . . . The only well-defined impression I have of his per-
sonal character is gained from two remarks concerning him in i86i-'62.
The first, that of a venerable Christian lady, of the old-fashioned coun-
try type, made to me : 'Joe Holt, Sir, is the only young man I ever knew
that left this country without leaving one friend behind him in it!'
The other, the fierce retort of the venerable Crittenden, to a Cabinet
officer, reported to me by Governor Morehead: 'Joseph Holt, of Ken-
tucky, did you say, Sir ? I tell you, Sir, by Heaven ! there is no such
man as Joseph Holt, of Kentucky!'
In addition to such contemporaneous public utterances concerning
Mr. Holt, I have learned much that is corroborative by word of mouth
from men whose opinions have been softened by time, and whose con-
spicuous positions in national affairs establish their utterances as both
weighty and trustworthy. Said one of these, a United States Senator,
within the year (1903), "Joseph Holt was the meanest man of his
time. He was both unscrupulous and ambitious ; and the smartest
man I ever knew !"
Another as prominent in the nation's affairs, said, using the same
adjective as did the Senator just quoted, "He was a peculiarly mean
man. I don't know the true circumstances of Mr. Davis's and Mr.
Clay's imprisonment, but the suspicions that attached to Holt were
never proven, nor, so far as I know, investigated. After he went out
of office he seemed to have no friends.. He remained in Washington.
I often saw him. Every morning ne would get into a shabby old
buggy and drive to market, where he would buy his meat and vegeta-
bles, potatoes, etc., for the day. These he would carry back to the
house in his buggy, and his cook would prepare his solitary meals for
him. I never felt anything but dislike for him," said this gentleman,
"and I don't know any one else who did !"
"True!" responded another gentleman, whose word has balanced
national opinion to a large extent for many years, "Mr. Holt was
repugnant to me. I think he was generally regarded as a man who
had forsaken his own section for gain. I thought him a heartless man.
When he left office he went into utter obscurity!"
These remarks, coming from sources so authoritative, lent strength
to the supposition that Mr. Holt's behaviour toward his self-surrendered
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 339
Mrs. Patterson, now presiding at the White House, had
been courteous to me, I resolved, as a stroke of policy,
to attend the Presidential reception to take place on the
ninth of January. Naturally, since my arrival in Wash-
ington, I had not participated in the social life about me.
In acknowledgment of Mr. Johnson's concessions, and,
with my husband's life at stake, with a desire further to
win the President's good offices, I now prepared to attend
his levee. My toilette was complete save for the draw-
prisoner and former friend, Clement C. Clay, if it might be traced to
its source, would, indeed, reveal a persecution at once vengeful and
malicious, springing from some personal animus. For a year I made
continuous effort to find this motive, but without success. Pitiless
enmity, supported by almost unlimited powers (vested in Mr. Holt as
Judge Advocate General, when the Government was in an unprece-
dented condition of chaos), this officer surely exercised toward Messrs.
Davis and Clay; but, where was the raison d'etre ?
By an accident, "at the eleventh hour," the paper in Mr. Clay's
handwriting containing the sentence quoted in the preceding text
came to light. I wrote promptly to Mrs. Clay-Clopton concerning it,
urging her to try to recall, if possible, the "reasons" which Mr. Clay,
in his prison in Fortress Monroe, on the night of December 29, 1865,
had given her in explanation of Mr. Holt's animosity toward him.
Her reply ran as follows :
'I can give you, in regard of Mr. Holt's persecution of my husband,
one very important reason ! On the breaking out of the war, I think
on the secession of Mississippi, Holt, who had won both his fame and
his fortune in that State of his adoption, espoused the Southern cause.
Whether this was known to others than Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay, I do
not know. From the impression that remains on my memory, Holt
communicated in confidence to those two gentlemen alone his intention
of standing by the South. Possibly, it was said to Mr. Davis alone, as
the latter was Mississippi's leading Senator, and by Mr. Davis repeated
to Mr. Clay. It was a common thing in those days to keep secret one's
intentions.' [See visit of Admiral Semmes, Chapter IX.] "Whether
Holt's decision was known to others than Mr. Davis and Mr. Clay, his
friend," continues the letter, "I do not know. I remember Mr. Clay
telling me that Mr. Holt was a renegade and a traitor, who had pledged
himself to the South; but when, in his selfish ambition, he received a
higher bid from the Federal Government, he deserted our cause and
went over to the opposition. I do not recall the position offered Mr.
Holt by the Federal Government, but it was a plum he coveted.
' You ask whether Mr. Clay and Mr. Holt ever had any dealings with
each other, political or business:
"None of any kind! Mr. Clay only knew of Holt's base defection
from our cause and condemned him for it. My husband told me (in the
Fortress), 'Mr. Holt knows the estimate Mr. Davis and I have of his
defection and would fain get us out of the way ! ' A. S.
340 "' A BELLE OP THE FIFTIES
ing on of my gloves, when, while awaiting the call of my
hostess Mrs. Parker and her daughter Mrs. Bouligny,
whose preparations were somewhat more elaborate than
my own, I broke the seal of some letters from home.
The news they contained was of a nature well calculated
to divert me from the thought of appearing at a public
gathering, even at the Executive Mansion.
The first told me, in hurried lines, of the illness of my
husband's mother; the second, posted a few hours later,
announced her death. "I write beside mother's dead
body," began my sister, Mrs. J. Withers Clay. "Her
constant theme was brother Clement, and the last thing
I remember hearing her say was 'What of my son?' in
so distressed a tone that her heart appeared broken.
. . . I trust you have seen your dear husband ere
this. I hope he will be released before poor father leaves
us. He is very distressed, very gentle and subdued
in his trouble. ... I can never forget mother's
heart-thrilling question 'What of my son?' She was
very unhappy about your last letter it was rather low-
spirited and said, ' I have no hope ; I shall never see my
son!'"
Within the next day I called upon Mr. Johnson. He
received me with his usual urbane manner, quite in con-
trast with my own indignant mood.
"Mr. Johnson," I began, "Who is the President of the
United States ?"
He smiled rather satirically and shrugged his shoulders.
' I am supposed to be !" he said.
' But you are not /' I answered. "Your autographed
letter was of little more use to me when I reached Fortress
Monroe than blank paper would have been ! For hours
it was not honoured, during which time your Secretary of
War held the wires and refused to allow me either to see
my husband or to communicate with you ! " Then, in as
few words as possible, I related the circumstances of my
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 341
visit to the Fort. Mr. Johnson, though constrained to
preserve his official reserve, was unable to repress or
disguise his anger at my recital.
"When you go there again you'll have no difficulty,
I assure you!' he said.
" When may I ? " I asked eagerly.
"When you wish," he answered.
I now pictured to him my husband's position; I re
lated the sad news I had just received, and which, unde 1
present conditions, I knew I dared not tell Mr. Clay, i
implored the President, by every argument at my com-
mand, to exercise his Executive power and release Mr.
Clay on his parole. Every moment of his incarceration
under the discipline invented by the unscrupulous
military authorities, I felt his life to be imperilled. As
our interview proceeded, however, I perceived the old
indecision of manner returning. The President's replies
were all to one effect; viz.: that the Secretary of War
must decide upon the case. He freely made out another
permit to the prison, this time to cover a longer stay,
but about a parole for Mr. Clay, or the naming of a day
for an early trial, he could promise nothing. He would
consult his Cabinet; he would see Mr. Stanton. At
last, my importunities for an authoritative action grow-
ing greater, the President burst out with every evidence
of deep feeling:
"Go home, woman, and write what you have to say,
and I'll read it to my Cabinet at the next meeting ! '
"You will not!' I answered hotly.
"Why?' he asked, cynically.
"Because," I replied, "you are afraid of Mr. Stanton!
He would not allow it ! But, let me come to the Cabinet
meeting, and 7 will read it," I said. 'For, with my
husband's life and liberty at stake, I do not fear Mr.
Stanton or any one else."
The President assured me I need have no misgivings;
342 x A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
if I would write my plea and send it directly to him, he
would, he promised me, have it read at the next Cabinet
meeting (on the morrow). Actuated by the hope, how-
ever meagre, of gaining a possible sympathy from the
President's Governmental associates, even though the
dictator Stanton was so coercing a personality in that
body, I prepared my letter. I afterward secured an
official copy of it. It ran as follows:
\
"WASHINGTON CITY, January n, 1866.
To His Excellency, President of the United States :
. . How true it is that all conditions of life, however
seemingly extreme, are capable of augmentation ! I have
thought and so told you, that for eight months past I have
been, and God knows with what cause, at the Nadir of despair;
that my cup, bitterer than the waters of Marah, was brimming,
my heart breaking. A letter received two evenings ago
announces the death of my husband's beloved mother, wife
of ex-Governor Clay. Deeply distressing to me; oh! Mr.
Johnson, what a blow to my husband, your unhappy prisoner !
He was her idolised son, her first-born; bears the name of her
lover-husband, and upon whose lineaments she had not rested
her longing eyes for three long, weary, desolate years.
; 'On the morning of the first she swooned, and expired on
the second, inquiring, 'What of my son?' Oh, Mr. Presi-
dent, what an agonising reflection to my husband ! How
can I summon nerve to tell him the news ? I cannot write so
great a grief, nor can I tell it and leave him in his gloomy
prison to struggle with it alone ! Will you not pour in the
oil of healing? I beg of you, permit me to bear with me,
along with my 'weight of woe,' the antidote. Issue the order
for my husband's release on his parole d'honneur, with bail if
desired, and let him once more see our father, who lies (now)
on a bed of illness. My sister writes, 'Father cannot long
survive.* God grant that he may see dear brother Clement
ere he goes. Cannot he come?' I repeat, cannot he come?
"Mr. President, you hold many noble prisoners in your
forts, but Mr. Clay's case is sui generis. General Grant, the
whole-souled soldier, in his letter to you in his behalf, says,
' His manly surrender is to me a full and sufficient guarantee
* Governor Clay died the following autumn.
PRESIDENT JOHNSON INTERPOSES 343
that he will be forthcoming at any time the civil authorities
of the land may call for him.' Even Mr. Stanton, who is not
considered partial to so-called 'Rebels,' told me, in my only
interview, that 'he was not my husband's judge,' as if he,
Pilate-like, were willing to wash his hands of innocent blood.
I replied tremblingly, 'I would fain not have you for his
accuser, Sir.' To which he rejoined, not unkindly, 'I am not
his accuser, Madam.' I thanked God for even that cold com-
fort as harbinger of better days.
"And now, Sir, may I ask you who are those opposed to my
husband's release on parole ? I have yet to find the first man,
Federal or other, who does not express admiration at the
high sense of honour and chivalric faith, in the prompt and
manly surrender ; and astonishment at the detention. To-day
we might have been far away in some peaceful spot, united at
least, and happy, but for that sense of unsullied honour, which
'feeling a stain like a wound,' remained to wipe it out. Can
you longer refuse him the privilege ?
'The law supposes all men innocent till proven guilty, and
if it will allow me, I, alone, can disprove, in toto, the testi-
mony of the conspiracy case, implicating him. Mr. Clay,
always delicate, is dying daily. He told me he was resigned
to God's will and perfectly willing to perish in those four
walls if his country would be benefited thereby. Mr. Presi-
dent, my husband is my world, my all, and 'dear to me as are
the ruddy drops that visit this sad heart.' Give him to me
for a little while, at least long enough to glad the dim eyes of
the eager and aged watcher at home and close them ; and he
shall return to you, on his honour and my life, at any moment
called for by the Government. Let me bring him to you to
prove to you the truth of my statement in point of health,
and to afford him the right of personal appeal. . . . That
God may incline you to grant my prayer and soften 'the
hearts of our enemies,' restore Peace indeed to the land, and
bless and guide and guard you in public and private life to
your journey's end, is the prayer of her who hopefully, trust-
fully, and truthfully subscribes herself,
"Your friend,
(Signed.) 'V. C. CLAY."
I sent this epistle to Mr. Johnson, but, despite the haste
in which I had written and despatched it, I was too late
for the promised reading, which fact I learned from the
344 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
following message, that reached me the next day. It
was written on the back of the President's card in his
(by this time) familiar, scrawling hand.
"Your letter," it read, 'was too late yesterday. It
does your heart and head credit. It is a most powerful
appeal. You have excelled yourself in its production!"
At the next Cabinet meeting Mr. Johnson made his
promise good. The letter was then read, by Mr. Evarts,
too late, however, even had it produced immediate
results, to enable me to carry the parole I had hoped
for to my husband. I was .again with Mr. Clay at the
Fortress when this meeting took place, but, having no
balm to soothe the wound, I could not tell him of the
blow that had befallen him, nor did he hear of it until,
nearly four months later, he left the prison. In the
interim, in order that my husband should not remark
upon the sombreness of my attire, I wore a red rose in
my bonnet and red ribbon at my throat whenever I
visited the Fort.
I learned the particulars of that (to me) eventful
Cabinet reading from Mr. Johnson later. Upon the con-
clusion of the letter Mr. Stanton asked for it. He scanned
it closely and put it into his pocket without comment.
Nor was the missive again returned to Mr. Johnson until
weeks had elapsed and several requests had been made
for it.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE NATION'S PRISONERS
ON the twenty-first of January, 1866, a few days after
my last conversation with President Johnson, I found
myself a second time within the ramparts of America's
most formidable military prison. This time, unhindered,
I was led directly to my husband's gloomy room. In
this and the several succeeding visits I paid Mr. Clay
in prison, I learned to comprehend, where before I had
but imagined, the terrible sufferings my husband had
undergone for now eight months. When I parted from
General Miles on May 24th, of the preceding year, he gave
me his promise that Mr. Clay should have every comfort
he could allow him.
I found, upon my admission to Fortress Monroe, in
January, 1866, that his prisoner, for three or more
months, had been confined within a narrow cell, grated
and barred like a cage in a menagerie, into which the
meagre daylight crept through the long, thin opening
in the thick walls. An unwholesome sweat had oozed
through the bare walls which surrounded him, at times,
it was said, increasing until it flowed in streams. For
weeks after entering the prison (I now learned) Mr. Clay
had been denied not only the use of his clothing, but
his toilet brushes and comb, and every item calculated to
preserve his health and self-esteem had been taken from
him. His only food for weeks had been a soldier's
rations, until Dr. Craven, at last, felt obliged to order
a hospital diet. These rations had been passed through
345
34 6 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the prison bars in tin cup or plate, unaccompanied by
knife, fork or spoon.
For forty days at a stretch he had not been permitted
to look upon the sun ; for months, though debarred from
communication with or visits from his own family, he was
exhibited to strangers, civilian or military, who from
time to time were brought into his cell, conversing
among themselves, or to the gratings to stare at him
with curious gaze. "I have been treated as if already
convicted of an infamous crime," wrote my husband in
a paper sent out by one who proved trustworthy. " In-
deed, one of my warders told me that the orders from
Washington required I should be subjected to the same
prison discipline that the assassins of Abraham Lincoln
underwent. While the Third Pennsylvania Artillery
(volunteers) were on duty (till October 3ist), I scarcely
ever walked out without being greeted with ' Shoot him !
Hang him ! Bring a rope ! The damned rascal ! * But
since the regulars came in nothing like this has occurred.
. . . Mr. Davis and I are not allowed to communicate
with each other. We have met but a few times, in walking
contrary to the intention of officers and orders, but only
saluted each other and asked of health."
Once, my husband told me, upon thus meeting, Mr.
Davis and he greeted each other in French, whereupon
the soldiers, scenting some further "treason," rushed at
them, pointing their bayonets.
' I have been subjected," continued my husband's state-
ment, "to the most refined but severe torture of body and
soul ; my health considered in order to preserve the sensi-
bility of the body to pain. ... I have been allowed
irregularly some newspapers, but never one alluding to
any evidence against me, or mentioning me, unless in
terms of reproach. I am cut off from the world, except
its reproaches ! '
During none of my visits to the Fort was I permitted
THE NATION'S PRISONERS 347
to speak with Mr. Davis, between whom and my husband,
as I have said, even an occasional word, for a long time,
was interdicted ; but, when sending to him a tray of good
things from among gifts to my husband or brought
with me from Washington, I managed often to send, with
an extra segar or two, a twisted paper lighter on which I
had scribbled 'Mrs. Davis and children are well," or
some (as I hoped) equally cheering greeting.
In later days, when a fuller liberty of walking about the
Fort was granted 'the prisoners, they were occasionally
able to pass to each other some brief message, written, it
might be, on the inch-wide margin of a bit of newspaper
or wrapping. Two or three times a scrap of writing-
paper, written all over in the finest possible hand, was
passed from one to the other. Two such messages,
uttered under the impression that Mr. Clay was soon to
be liberated, are expressive of the unflinching spirit
which Mr. Davis at all times showed, even under torments
as humiliating, and, in one instance, even more cruel,
than those endured by my husband. The first would
seem to have reached Mr. Clay shortly after my first visit
to the Fort. A lengthy note, in finest script and com-
pressed within the dimensions of a single six-by-eight
sheet of paper, it read as if it had been written sentence
by sentence, as mood dictated or opportunity offered.
A second note, in even more diminutive script,* was
passed to my husband in the early winter of '66, when at
last it seemed assured that Mr. Clay would be liberated.
It was written in this belief, and gave my husband direc-
tions as to friends whose influence might be awakened on
our late President's behalf. Mr. Davis reiterated his
loyalty to the cause for which he was now suffering, but
* On the back of this scrap, Mr. Davis wrote in pencil, "If you get
this, say I've got the tobacco and will give you a puff." Long after-
ward, lest the identity of the little slip should be lost, Mr. Clay added
this comment beneath the original inscription: "Preserve ! Mr. Davis
to me in prison! C. C. C." A. S.
34 S A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
declared his anxiety for his wife's and children's fates.
He felt that there was a bloodthirsty hate against him, the
strong motive being to degrade the lost cause in his person.
In all of his communications, however short, Mr. Davis
wrote with dignity and conviction, as became a man who
had been the Chief Magistrate of a people. Once only,
and that during my first stay in the Fort, I saw the tall
figure of our late Chief. " I saw Mr. Davis walking on the
ramparts," I wrote to ex-Governor Clay. "His beard
and hair are white, and he is thin to emaciation, but
walked like a President still."
Upon my arrival at the Fortress early in '66, I found
Mr. Clay established in Carroll Hall, in what, in view of
his earlier surroundings, was a comfortable room. It was
perhaps sixteen feet square, and was lighted by two fairly
large windows which opened toward the front of the build-
ing, but were heavily barred with iron, as was also the
entrance. The cot upon which my husband slept was
much too short for his comfort, and a stool was the only
seat at his disposal.
After a survey of Mr. Clay's quarters, I at once called
the attention of General Miles to the shortcomings of the
cot and the absence of a chair, and in a few hours a mat-
tress sufficiently long and two chairs were brought in. I
also requested that a drugget be placed upon the floor of
Mr. Da vis's room, in order that the noise caused by the
change of guard might be diminished ; for, in his nervous
state, it was said, he suffered greatly by reason of it.
This, I believe, was also conceded. My husband had
converted the window-sills of his room into a buffet and
book-shelf, respectively, on one of which were kept his
medicines and such tidbits and delicacies as were now
from time to time sent to him by Dr. Withers, our cousin,
or which I carried in with me from Washington friends.
On the other, his meagre supply of books, the Bible and
Jay's Prayers being the principal volumes.
THE NATION'S PRISONERS 349
But for his own scrupulous cleanliness, Mr. Clay's life
must long ago have succumbed to his unparalleled depriva-
tions in that cruel imprisonment. So neatly had he kept
his cell and room, however, that they were the wonder of
all his attendants. It was his custom, when he took his
morning bath (he told me) , to stand the basin first in one
and then another position in the room, splashing the water
about as far as he could, after which he would take the
broom with which he was provided and brush the wet
portions clean ! To such depths of cruelty did the agents
of Mr. Stanton and Mr. Holt condemn a delicate scholar
a former friend, recently a United States Senator, whose
name throughout the land was the synonym for unfailing
integrity, against whom the United States as yet seemingly
had not found a single charge on which he might be
brought to trial !
I learned of many instances of insult offered to Mr.
Clay by his rude first custodians. Upon one occasion, re-
minded of it by the sound of the dull-splashing waters
without the walls of his cell, my husband conceived the
idea that a salt bath would assist in strengthening him.
He therefore asked the attendant for the day if, instead
of the fresh water usually supplied to him, he would bring
him some salt water. The man's reply was emphatic.
'You damned Rebel!" he said. "You may thank
God you get any water. You don't deserve to have any ! '
My husband, whose nature was of the tenderest and
most patient, especially with the ignorant, answered very
quietly, " I am thankful for any water ! ' His reply illus-
trated anew the magic of the soft answer, for the soldier,
looking very much ashamed, spoke in a moment in a very
different manner.
" Forgive me, Mr. Clay," he said, " I don't know why I
did it. I've got nothing against you. Guess it's a kind
of habit of damning Johnny Rebs ! I'll get you the water.
I believe you're a Christian gentleman ! "
350 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
On the evening of the first day of my second visit to the
Fortress, I encountered Dr. Cooper, against whom, it will
be recalled, Dr. Craven had warned me. To the pris-
oner he had always revealed himself as a man of strictly
unsocial manner, not to say an austere and pitiless one.
During the first day of my visit to the Fort, I saw nothing
of him. It was dark when I left my husband's cell and
set out, escorted by Lieutenant Stone, for the little hotel
outside the ramparts. Once outside of the prison, the air
was chill, and so silent, save for a strong wind, that I was
conscious of no sound save it and the swashing of the waters
against the stone walls of the Fort. Its cadence was
weird and full of melancholy. As the doors of the prison
closed behind us, I saw in the shadows a curious figure
coming directly toward us. It was clad in a long, loose,
flapping dressing-gown, and in its mouth was a pipe in
which glowed a live spark of tobacco. I observed my
guard looking straight ahead and apparently unobservant ;
but he said, under his breath and in a tone only audible
to me, ' Here comes Dr. Cooper ! '
Another moment and the figure was beside us.
' Stone," said a grufl voice, " present me to Mrs. Clay ! '
My escort complied promptly, and then, to my alarm,
hastened away at once, leaving me dismayed and appre-
hensive, in the care of the 'blackest of Black Repub-
licans" and one who would "show me no mercy ! '
" Madam ! ' said the Doctor, whose features I could
scarcely discern in the dusk, "my wife wishes you to
accept the hospitality of our house to-night ! '
Had the man turned suddenly and clasped manacles
about my wrists, I could scarcely have been more startled.
;< I beg your pardon ! ' I stammered. " I am on my
way to General Miles 's headquarters for my passport
with which to leave the Fort. I have not the privilege of
remaining within the ramparts over night."
" Nonsense, Madam ! " replied the Doctor, almost rudely.
,,4* Buitaiiti . .
. .. .-
DR. GEORGE COOPER
Fortress Monroe, 1866
THE NATION'S PRISONERS 351
" My wife expects you ! We soldiers have no luxuries
and but few comforts, but we can give you shelter and
save General Miles some trouble in sending you to and
fro ! ' And he started rapidly across the stone walk. I
followed him in silence for some distance, hardly know-
ing why I did so, my mind busy conjuring up the possible
significance of his conduct, and alert to meet the unknown
perils into which it was possible I was being led. Pres-
ently the Doctor, between puffs of tobacco, asked, "Ever
been here before?"
: Yes ! " I answered, sorrowfully enough, but with some
pride, too, unless at that moment I proved untrue to
myself, which I know I did not. : Yes ! I was here dur-
ing President Pierce 's administration, when my husband
was an honoured Senator, and I, beside Secretary Dobbin,
looked on the brilliant rockets that wrote the names of
Pierce and Davis across the night sky ! ' I was sad at the
thought of that joyful occasion and the contrast the
present afforded me. Suddenly the Doctor, who had been
chewing most ostentatiously at his pipe, edged up to me
and said, in a low voice:
"Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer up! Madam!" He
spoke so rapidly that I hardly realised the significance of
his words. They sounded exactly like "chirrup, chirrup,
chirrup, Madam.' 'My wife," he added, still in that
low-guarded voice, ; 'is the damnedest Rebel out, except
yourself, Madam ! '
I was dumbfounded ! He, Dr. Cooper, the blackest of
Black Republicans, etc., against whom I had been
warned so emphatically? A flood of gratitude rushed
over me. Half crying, I turned to grasp his hand and
thank him, but seeing my intention, he drew away, saying
sharply, " None of that, Madam ! None o' that ! ' and,
increasing his gait suddenly, almost flew before me, his
long gown rising in his wake most ludicrously, as he made
for a dark cottage that now began to shape itself out of
352 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
the gloom. It was so small that until we were almost
upon it I had not perceived it. Every window it boasted
was mysteriously dark.
My guide pushed open the door, however, and entered,
I following him mechanically. The door closed behind
me, and it seemed automatically, as the Doctor disap-
peared from view ; but, in a moment, I found myself in the
friendly embrace of the Doctor's wife, one of the loveliest
of women, Elva Cooper.
"Be of good cheer, my sweet sister ! ' ' she said, as her
tears flowed in sympathy with mine. 'You are in the
right place. There is nothing under heaven you would
do for Mr. Davis or Mr. Clay that I will not do. I am an
Old Point Comfort woman, born here. My mother is a
Virginian," she continued, " and is with me ; and you must
know my little Georgette. We are all Rebels of the first
water ! " and this I found to be true.
This strangely God-given friend, Elva Jones Cooper,
with whom I remained four days and nights, never flagged
in her devotion to me and the prisoners. I saw her many
times in my several visits to the Fort, and on numberless
occasions had reason to note the womanly expression of
her sympathy. Quite frequently she would prepare with
her own hands a dainty breakfast, write on a card, ' By
order of Dr. C ," and send to one or the other of the
prisoners.
I once saw her gather from a box of growing violets
a small bunch of flowers, tie them with a strand of her
shining hair, and drop them into her husband's hat, saying,
II Put that hat where Mr. Clay can see it. He shall smell
violets, even though he is a prisoner ! '
Mrs. Cooper was young, not thirty ; beautiful in form
and face ; snowy skin and raven hair and eyes ; tall, com-
manding, and graceful. My husband, on seeing her,
exclaimed, 'Maid of Saragossa ! " And very appro-
priately did he transfer to her this poetic title.
THE NATION'S PRISONERS
353
Outwardly, Dr. Cooper's deportment to me was barely
civil, and so continued. I dared not ask one favour, so
stern and seemingly implacably did he deport himself
toward my husband and me, toward our section and the
cause for which we were suffering; yet, in the months to
come, as on that memorable night of January 21, 1866,
many an occasion arose to convince me that Dr. Craven's
successor, after all, was actuated by a genuine feeling of
humanity toward the State prisoners, and I soon grew to
recognise in him a lamb in wolf's clothing.
CHAPTER XXIX
PRESIDENT JOHNSON HEARS WHAT THE "PEOPLE SAY'
UPON my return from the Fort on the 3oth of January
I redoubled my pleadings for Mr. Clay's release, both by
correspondence and by visits to the White House. The
President's bearing toward me was courteous and friendly,
though it was apparent the confusion of the times and the
pressure which was being brought upon him on every side
was troubling him ; but, notwithstanding that he listened
and with every evidence of sympathy, Mr. Johnson con-
tinued irresolute, deferring from time to time on what, in
fact, seemed the most trivial excuses, the issuing of the
release papers. If I called once at the White House dur-
ing the weeks that followed, I called fifty times, inces-
santly suing for my husband's freedom, and adding some-
times a plea for the pardons of friends and neighbours
in Huntsville who were eager to resume their normal
positions in the community. In the middle of February
I was enabled to write home as follows :
"My Dear Father: I send your long-sued-for pardon. Act
upon its requirements at once ! I am pressing my husband's
case and never mean to stop until success crowns my efforts.
I am emboldened to hope the day not far distant when he will
be a free man ! Great political excitement now reigns.
. . . The President is very kind to me always."
Notwithstanding there were times when my own heart
sank to an almost hopeless state, I wrote thus hopefully
to the patriarch at home, for each post told me of his
increasing feebleness, and I longed to sustain him, at least
until my husband's release was accomplished.
354
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 355
' God bless you ! ' wrote my sister, Mrs. J. Withers
Clay, early in March, "and give you success! I asked
father to send you some special message. He replied,
'Give her my best love, and tell her for God's sake to
tell me when my poor boy will be pardoned !'
These appeals, as will be understood, were the private
agonies which acted like a lash to spur me to the end
of the task of securing my husband's freedom, and
to stimulate me, even in the face of the continued delays
which now were become so inexplicable.
Early in February a change in public feeling began
to be made manifest in the press. The mystery of the
detention of the prisoners at Fortress Monroe without trial
was arousing curiosity. The New York Herald, thanks
to the intervention of our friend, Colonel Robert Barn-
well Rhett (of the doughty and fearless Charleston
Mercury), who had presented Mr. Clay's case to Mr.
Bennett, now began to make inquiry in the cases of the
unjustly treated prisoners.
* Dear Mrs. Clay," wrote Colonel Rhett, late in Decem-
ber, * having the opportunity of a good talk with Mr.
Bennett, of the New York Herald, day before yesterday,
I urged him to come out for the release of your husband.
He said he did not know much about the business ! I
told him Mr. Clay was universally recognised to be one
of the purest and most high-minded public men in the
country one wholly incapable of anything criminal or
questionable; and that he had gone to Canada at the
solicitation of Mr. Davis to communicate with the
Peace Party of the North. I reminded him that, after
the collapse of the Confederate Government, when a
reward was offered for his arrest, Mr. Clay had volun-
tarily and promptly surrendered himself, asking an
investigation ; and that no intelligent man in the country
who knew anything of our public men believed the
charges to be other than frivolous and absurd, I added
356 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES ~
that Mr. Clay's prolonged captivity was regarded simply
as an outrage on propriety, and that if he, Mr. Bennett,
would take the subject in hand, he would greatly gratify
the Southern people.
"He showed an interest in the matter, and said he
would take it up in the Herald. That paper, you are
aware, aims to reflect the current public opinion, irre-
spective of parties, and now warmly supports President
Johnson against the Radicals. It is a great power, and
by preparing the public mind and strengthening the
President, may aid you efficiently."
The results of this interview by no means met the
hopes of Colonel Rhett, however; for the utterances of
Mr. Bennett's paper were few and guarded. But they
were as a straw showing the veering of the wind.
"I was disappointed in Mr. Bennett's fulfilment of
his promise to speak in Mr. Clay's behalf in the Herald"
ran a second letter from our friend. 'A few incidental
expressions of opinion and a communication published
did not come up to my expectations. If you feel dis-
posed to write, Mrs. Bennett is the channel by which
to reach him. She told me she sympathised with the
South in her feelings, and admired Southerners. . . .
In failing to deal with the case as you present it, the
President must be very feeble in the article of nerve,
touching his War Secretary and other Radical adver-
saries. Yet the widow prevailed with the unjust Judge,
and I trust your importunity may weary the cautious
Tennesseean into decided steps for Mr. Clay's release !
11 Yours, etc.,
" R. BARN WELL RHETT."
Early in the month of February two important letters
reached me through Mr. R. J. Haldeman. They were
addressed to the President, and bore the signature of
Thaddeus Stevens and R. J. Walker, respectively. Since
my letter addressed to him in May, 1865, Mr. Haldeman's
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 357
efforts had been unremitting to interest in my husband's
behalf those whose recommendations were likely to have
most weight with the President and his advisers. He
now wrote me as follows:
"MRS. C. C. CLAY, JR.
"My Dear Madam: I inclose you a very handsome letter
from the Honourable R. J. Walker to the President. I also
sent you the letter of Mr. Stevens, which has become of some
importance in view of Mr. Stevens's recent utterances. Mr.
Walker considers it of the highest importance, and wonders
how I obtained it.
"After seeing you, I called on Mr. S in reference to the
proposed visit (to you), but found him brooding over the
violent speech which he has since made. I did not therefore
deem it prudent to insist upon the performance of his promise,
and am confirmed in my judgment by events.
"During the day I heard something which convinced me
the President would not then act. This I could not bring
myself to tell you, and therefore obeyed a hasty summons to
New York by an unceremonious departure from Washington.
As the future unfolds, I hope to be again at Washington,
and at the propitious moment. I hope you will keep up your
good spirits, for, upon the faith of a somewhat phlegmatic
and never over-sanguine Dutchman, I think the period of
Mr. Clay's release approaches rapidly. . . . Mr. Walker,
however, desires me to say to you that ' as we must all go to
Clay at last, why not go at once?' I think this pointed wit-
ticism would bear repetition to the President. I am, very
respectfully, Madam, Yours,
"February 3, 1866. "R. J- HALDEMAN."
As I had done in the case of General Grant's letter, I
now hastened to send to the President the letters from
Thaddeus Stevens and Judge Walker, both of whom
recommended the prompt release of Mr. Clay. The
letter from R. J. Walker was what might have been
expected from an old friend of Mr. Clay's; that from
Mr. Stevens, the most radical of Radicals, was a source
of some astonishment. It was not the only surprise of
those weeks, however.
358 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
" I have had strange visitors lately," I wrote to father.
" Some extremists of the Radical party have called upon
me to assure me of their belief in my husband's inno-
cence!' And in my diary of the i4th of that fateful
February, I find entered: "When will wonders cease?
Who but the Honourable Mr. Wilson, of Massachusetts,
has called, and voluntarily, to say he will do anything
in his power for me or Mr. Clay; knows he is innocent;
believes Mr. Davis to be also innocent ! It is the good-
ness of God ! '
The circumstances of Mr. Wilson's unexpected visit
were altogether dramatic. I was seated at the dinner-
table with the family of Mrs. Parker, when, it being still
early in the evening, a visitor was announced who de-
clined to give his name or the purpose for which he
had called.
"Tell Mrs. Clay that a friend wishes to see her," was
his message. A sudden remembrance flashed over me,
and, indeed, over the friends around me, of the secret
warning I had received just after my arrival in Wash-
ington, viz. : that I must be on my guard against strange
visitors. After a few moments' consultation with the
family, I decided to see the stranger. Doctor Maury,
Mrs. Parker's son-in-law (who had been Chief of Staff
on General Longstreet's medical staff, and was a brave
and charming man), accompanied me to the drawing-
room door, encouraging me by telling me to have no fear,
as he would remain near by. As I entered the room
the Doctor drew back into the hall. He was prepared,
he assured me, for any emergency.
Great, indeed, was my astonishment upon entering,
to see, rising to meet me, Senator Wilson, Vice-President
of the United States ! To that moment I had had no
acquaintance with the Massachusetts Senator, though
I had seen him often on the floor of the Senate. Though
seized with an inward panic of apprehension that he
u
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 359
was the bearer of some dreadful tidings, I took the
proffered hand of my strange visitor, obeying mechani-
cally an instinct of responsive courtesy. For a moment,
however, fear made me speechless. At last, Mr. Wilson
broke the painful silence.
You are doubtless surprised to see me," he said.
Unutterably so ! ' I rejoined. " Please tell me
quickly why you have come, and end this agony of sus-
pense ! ' And I burst into tears.
1 Do not weep, dear Madam ! " said Mr. Wilson. " Mr.
Clay is well, and I have come to tell you that I deeply
sympathise with you and desire to help you to obtain
his release!'
'Mr. Clay's surrender," Mr. Wilson continued, "re-
flects great honour upon him. He is a brave and good
man. Though he and I were opposed in politics, I have
always respected Mr. Clay. Even his enemies on my
side of the Chamber always knew where to find the
Senator from Alabama!'
My heart was so full as I listened to these words, I
could not make answer to this tribute to the worth of
my suffering husband but by a fresh flow of tears.
Somehow, as he stood before me, the erstwhile shoe-
maker of Nantucket seemed stamped with the seal of
nobility from God ! I did not then know his kindly
nature, and those to whom I related the incident of this
visit said nothing to impress me with the sincerity of
Senator Wilson's act. On the contrary, many assured
me that some selfish and sinister motive impelled the
interview, and that Mr. Wilson would not commit him-
self by writing what he had spoken. A friend to whom
I wrote an account of the visit, replied, counselling me
as follows:
'I do not personally know Mr. Wilson, but believe
him, from report, to be tricky, unscrupulous, and only
hypocritically fanatical. Mr. Stevens may have spoken
360 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to him, or Mr. Sumner (whom, you remember, I saw) ; or
he may have wished to approach the President through
an opening which he supposed congenial to the Presi-
dent's wishes. However, your course is clear. Commit
Mr. Wilson by a letter to the President, so that when the
fight waxes furious he may not be able to take advantage
of what the President may do. I consider it a good sign
that the President desires to keep the letters of Messrs.
Stevens and Walker.' 3
In the meantime I had spoken of the incident with
warm enthusiasm to Mr. Johnson. He replied very
much as others had done; to wit., that Mr. Wilson would
not commit to writing the sentiments he had expressed
verbally to me.
'He fears the Radical press too much," said the
President.
Nettled somewhat at this distrust, I assured Mr.
Johnson of my faith in his Vice-President ; that I would
get the letter from him, and voluntarily. "If not," I
added, somewhat stung by his cynicism, " I will extort it ! "
Shrugging his shoulders, and casting up one eye, a
characteristic habit of the President, he asked, "How?"
'Simply," I replied, "by an avowal that I will give
to the Herald and other papers the whole affair, telling
how the Honourable Senator had come, secretly, by night,
like Nicodemus, to deceive by false promises a sorrow-
ful woman, for some base reason best known to himself ! '
Leaving the President still with an incredulous smile
upon his face, I returned to my asylum at Mrs. Parker's,
and shortly addressed Mr. Wilson a note, expressive of
my wish. A reply, under his own frank, reached me
early in March, and I bore it in some triumph to the
President. The Vice-President's letter, a copy of which
I afterward secured, was dated from the "United States
Senate Chamber, Washington, March 3, 1866." It was
addressed to
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 361
"His EXCELLENCY, THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
11 Sir" [the letter began]: '"Mrs. Clay, the wife of Clement
C. Clay, is now in the city, and has requested me to obtain per-
mission for her husband to go to his home on parole. His
father is said to be at the point of death, his mother recently
deceased, and, if there be no objections or reasons unknown
to me why the request of Mrs. Clay should be denied, I have
no hesitation in recommending its favourable consideration,
if only from motives of humanity, as I have no doubt Mr. Clay
will be forthcoming when his presence is again required by the
Government.
"I have the honour to be,
'Very respectfully, your obedient servant,
(Signed.) 'H. WILSON."
Some six weeks later, when Mr. Clay's release was at
last accomplished, and the press was busy with com-
ments upon it, the names of the gentlemen who had
written to the President on my husband's behalf being
enumerated, some of the Radical papers attempted to
deny the probability of Mr. Wilson's intercession; which
was, as it appeared to me, a singularly useless thing to do,
since his letter was already filed among the Government's
archives. But the air everywhere was full of political
revolution, and parties and partisans did not hesitate
to resort to such means in their endeavour to effect the
desired feeling in the public mind.
Every step taken by the President in those days was
opposed or attacked. In my efforts to accomplish my
husband's release, I came in contact with many good and
earnest men, anxious to serve Mr. Clay and me, though
often wholly disapproving of Mr. Johnson's weak course.
The retention of Mr. Stanton in the Cabinet was peculiarly
offensive to a great many. Wherever a political meeting
was held, Mr. Johnson was liable to vituperative assault.
Private conversation teemed with rumours of a growing
and increasingly violent opposition.
In view of Mr. Johnson's demonstrated kindliness to
me, it was not only loyal to the President, but, I hoped,
362 " A BELLE OP THE FIFTIES
would prove protective to Mr. Clay's interest, that I
should give the Executive the benefits of some of the
warnings I had heard by no means privately uttered.
I, therefore, spoke to him fearlessly, and wrote to him
no less unrestrainedly.
A few days after Mr. Wilson's visit, I wrote to Mr.
Johnson in this wise, my letter being dated February i6th :
"MR. PRESIDENT.
"Dear Friend: Fearing I may not see you this morning, I
fortify myself with this note. I go up [to the War Depart-
ment] hoping for my father's correspondence. If I get
neither, may I beg to remind you of your promises ? I have
some strange things to tell you. . . . Rumour says that
' the people say, ' * If Mr. J- - does not support them versus
the Radicals, they will call on General Grant !' I know you will
not falter, and are not to be intimidated by threats from brave
men, far less cowards. . . . Will you not send me one
line ? Do ! and say the wheel has advanced one notch toward
the day of deliverance ! '
A letter received after sending the above missive, in
addition to the conferences I held daily with Judges
Black and Hughes, and with others calculated by their
established judicial and political worth to aid me, had
its share in stimulating me to press my arguments home
more and more confidently in my future interviews with
Mr. Johnson.
' I was spectator yesterday in a Democratic Convention
in an adjoining County (Harrisburg)," ran the letter,
'when the news of the veto was brought. A resolution
of approval was immediately adopted, and I, being
seen in the crowd, was called out. I raised such a storm
in fifteen minutes as would have done the President's
heart good to have witnessed. The people are palpi-
tating with eagerness to have the battle-ground defined,
foggy constructions and platforms removed, so that they
may charge upon the foes to a restored and tranquil
Union.
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 363
1 Alea jacta est: Mr. Johnson has put his hand to
the plow, and cannot look back. . . . He has
shown the very highest order of statesmanship in that
command of himself and ability to bide his time, amid
unexampled embarrassments, which have won for him
the confidence of reflecting men. But could you not
gently insinuate some day that, hereafter, the great
debate, on appeal, is to be carried before the Tribunal of
the American people in the case of the President versus
Congress? . . Many of Mr. Lincoln's acts, wrong
in themselves, were nevertheless pardoned or applauded,
because they evinced energy, courage or willingness to
shoulder responsibility. . . .
4 As one of the people, . . . and accustomed to
'pulse' the public, I think I may unhesitatingly assert
that Mr. Johnson would gain immensely by no longer
waiting to be attacked and undermined, but boldly
striking his country's and his own enemies. If he would
break out before witnesses into indignant denunciation
of Mr. Stanton for having attempted to sap the founda-
tion of liberty, and that, therefore, he is unfit to be in the
Government of a free people, a thrill of joy would course
like electricity through the land. Let the contest be
only strictly defined ; let the President, with a cabinet of
friends, stand forward as the defender of peace and Union
against a Congress which seeks to perpetuate strife, dis-
cord, and disunion, and we will, by meetings held in every
county of the North, so arouse the people in support of
our constitutional and law-abiding President against a
lawless and usurping Congress, that it would be com-
paring small things to great to compare it with the
pressure which General Monk and the people of England
brought to bear upon the fanatical Parliament in behalf
of Charles II."
A few days after the receipt of this letter, while on my
way to call upon the President, and in the company of
364 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
my faithful friend, Mrs. Bouligny, I met Mr. Stanton
descending the stairs of the White House. I saw by the
Secretary's manner that he recognised me. Indeed, there
was a half -inclination of the head, as if he had expected
me to bow to him. I did not do so. The innate con-
tempt I felt for this despotic Secretary of War, whom I
knew to be the power upholding Mr. Holt, who was so
cruelly detaining my husband, froze my manner into a
hauteur I could not easily have assumed. I went angrily
to my appointment.
As I entered the parlour in which the President stood
ready to receive me, I immediately broke into the subject
to which I so continually had returned at each of my
many visits during the past three months. But the
President interposed a question.
'Did you meet Stanton as you came in?' he asked.
"I did!' I replied. "And he had the audacity to
bow to me !'
'The scoundrel !" ejaculated the President. "He has
been here an hour clamouring for the blood of Davis and
Clay!"
"But you will release them?" I asked.
'You must be patient," answered Mr. Johnson. "I
must detain them a little longer to satisfy public
clamour !'
At this my indignation rose. In augmenting emotion
I recapitulated the letters and indorsements I had
brought to him urging my husband's release. I reiter-
ated my reasons why the recommendations of these
gentlemen should have weight with him. I referred
to my husband's inability to combat the charges that
had been made against him, while denied trial, the access
of counsel, or his release from custody. I described
his ill-health and the aged father at home, now so near
to death ; I rehearsed my husband's past services to his
country and the dishonourable way in which the Govern-
WHAT THE PEOPLE SAY 365
ment had acted toward this self -surrendered prisoner.
I spoke the thoughts that rose in my heart, irrespective
of the consequences, and, having massed my arguments
in this way, I summed them all up in one uncontrollable
protest :
"And now, Mr. President," I asked, "in the name of
God, what doth hinder? In view of all these things,
does it not seem that you are the lion in the path ? Please
tell me who was benefited by Mr. Lincoln's death ? Was
it Clement C. Clay ? What good accrued to him from the
murder? He was the loved representative of a proud
constituency. He is now pining in solitary confinement.
You, Mr. Johnson, are the one man benefited ! You
have succeeded to the highest office in the gift of the
people ! You, through this elevation, have become the
centre of a nation's hopes, the arbiter of life and death ! '
I paused in my plea, at a movement of deprecation made
by the President, but I would not be halted.
You have promised me," I continued, "and Heaven
knows how I thank you for it, that never while you sit
in the Presidential chair will you surrender to the Military
Commission the two prisoners in Fortress Monroe. In
that, you have saved their lives ! I have not the shadow
of a doubt but that execution, and that in chains, as in
Mrs. Surratt's case, might have taken place. But, when,
notwithstanding the recommendations of such men as
General Grant, Thaddeus Stevens, Judge Walker, and
Henry Wilson, I see you waiting for ' public clamour ' to
subside, and, at the same time, in counsel with your
Secretary of War, I am afraid. Again I implore you to
stand firmly, my friend ; thus far, at least, by not yielding
to the desires of that wicked Commission and staining
your soul with innocent blood !"
Turning, my eyes rested upon the marble bust of the
late President, and I said, " Whose bust is that ? "
'Mr. Lincoln's," 1 was the surprised reply.
3 66 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
"I know it!' I answered. 'But is he not a dead
President? And why, may I ask, do you, a living one,
stand surrounded by his Cabinet? Why do you not
reach out to the great conservative heart of this Nation
and select your own Cabinet? Why not become the
popular head, as you can become? So long as you
stand, Mr. President, as the barrier between your Military
Commission and my husband and Mr. Davis, so long will
I dare to be your friend to the extent of telling you what
the people say of you ! '
"Well, what do they say?" asked the President, with
an air of indifference which, it was obvious, was assumed.
"They say," I replied, "that you should get rid of Mr.
Lincoln's Cabinet; that you should surround yourself
with a Cabinet of your own ! Why do you hobble your-
self with a dead man's advisers ? They say, too, you are
swinging in too circumscribed a circle ! I have even
heard," I added, "hints of ' impeachment ' uttered in
connection with the dissatisfaction resulting from your
administration ! '
During my bold speech the President gave evidence
of being deeply moved, if not irritated, by my revelations ;
and, feeling that I had said enough, if, indeed, not too
much, in the intensity of my feelings, Mrs. Bouligny and
I withdrew. Ere we left him, however, the President as-
sured me, as he so often had done (though he said the
words over each time with an earnest gravity that was
void of consciousness of his repetition), that he would
"confer as to the release in our next Cabinet meeting !"
CHAPTER XXX
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER
BY the early spring of '66 the faces of old friends began
to reappear in the Northern cities. New York, which I
necessarily visited at times during those eventful months,
when not at the Fort with Mr. Clay or beseeching the
President on his behalf, was crowded with Southern
people, many of whom were returning from abroad, or
were industriously seeking to reestablish business con-
nections. In the capital one met on every hand friends
of the ante-bellum days, saddened and changed, it might
be, in fortune, but brave-spirited and walking with heads
upright and hearts strong to meet the future. "I am
persuaded that our States and people are to be prosperous,
despite the portentous clouds which are now around us,"
wrote Mr. Mallory, from Bridgeport, Connecticut, where,
now an invalid, he was constrained to remain; "and that
the day is not far distant when you and your incom-
parable lord, with other congenial spirits, will smile at
fate and look back to the paths we are now treading
with more of pride than of sorrow! My love to Clay.
God love him ! What would I not give to be able to
serve him!"
A spirit as loyal and comforting to us pervaded the
circle of old-time associates in Washington, and per-
meated the newer ones who had gathered about me in my
adversity. Mrs. Parker, the brilliant hostess of the
Buchanan days, who now so hospitably had thrown open
her home to me, proved an unsparing and faithful friend.
Her hospitality to me and to the legion of other friends
367
3 68 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
who flocked to offer their sympathy and services to me was
unstinted, and the several members of her family vied
with each other in extending their kindnesses and pro-
tection to me.
Among the friends who reappeared in Washington
about this time, my diary notes the calls upon me early
in '66 of fair Constance Gary and her fiance", Burton
Harrison,* long since released from the imprisonment
which, for a time, he shared with Mr. Davis; of my
kinswoman, Mrs. Polk, of North Carolina, and of Madame
Le Vert, the brilliant Octavia. Walton, who, almost three
decades before, had led all other fascinating beauties in
the capital. Accompanied by her daughters, Mme. Le
Vert had returned to the North to intercede for the
pardons of General Beauregard and others of her kin and
friends. Her comings and goings were heralded every-
where. She was the distinguished member of the
Southern coterie in New York, whence frequent trips
were made to the capital, and it was commonly remarked
that the charm of her personality had suffered no diminu-
tion with the increase of years.
Our beloved General Lee, who had been summoned to
Washington to appear before the Reconstruction Com-
mittee, was the lion of the day. I saw him several times,
surrounded by hosts of admirers, the ladies begging for
mementoes, buttons anything, in fact, he might be
persuaded to give up, while he, modest and benevolent,
yielded helplessly to their demands. It was during
these months that I became acquainted with the lovely
Mme. de Podestad, General Lee's kinswoman, who was
both witty and beautiful. For a number of years, as
the wife of one of the Spanish Minister's suite, she was a
conspicuous member of Washington society. Going
thence to Spain, she became lady-in-waiting to the
Queen. Madame de Podestad was a devoted admirer of
* Mr. Harrison died in Washington, March 29, 1904. A. S.
MRS. A. S. PARKER
of Washington, D. C.
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 369
her heroic kinsman, and I saw much of her in those
memorable days of '66.
It was a time of intense political excitement. The
strife over the Civil Rights bill was the absorbing topic
everywhere. The "returning good sense of the people,"
upon which the President so long had appeared to depend,
was less apparent than he had hoped, and to many
astute minds the air seemed to vibrate with premonitions
of the Government's overthrow. Cabinet changes were
so earnestly desired that a discussion of that body became
part of every conversation. Mr. Johnson's absorption
in the progress of the Civil Rights bill was so great, that,
upon my return from a visit to my husband, early in
April, realising the inadvisability and the inconsiderate-
ness of pressing my demands at that moment, I yielded
to the urgings of my friends and entered upon a short
season of diversion. I remember to have visited, in
company with Senator Bright and Mr. Voorhees, the
studio of Vinnie Reames, whose vogue in Washington
was then at its height ; and I indulged in a pleasure trip
to Baltimore, where a great fair was in progress which
had been arranged by the patriotic ladies of that city.
Contributions had poured in, and half the capital was
in attendance.
'Mrs. Johnson sent a superb basket of flowers,"
reads the account I sent home, "which was raffled for
sixty dollars ! A portrait of the President was bought
and sent to her. Also General Johnston's and General
Lee's were bought and sent to their wives. Mr. Corcoran
won the portrait of 'Stonewall' Jackson. Admiral
Semmes was present one day, and he and I promenaded
the rooms together. Though not the 'Pirate's Bride,' I
was proud of his company. A robe de chambre for Mr.
Davis and a superb pillow for Mr. Clay are in my pos-
session. Will take them soon! Ross Wynans," I
added, in describing the more generous donations sent
370 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
to the energetic ladies, "has sent one hundred thousand
dollars, and an English gentleman twenty-five thousand ! '
Admiral Semmes was the most recent of the State
prisoners to be released, and his appearance at the fair
was the signal for a lively enthusiasm. By this time
Mr. Stephens, our late Vice-President, was a free man, and
thrice had called upon me in Washington to offer sym-
pathetic suggestions concerning the case of my husband,
so inexplicably detained. Our dear friend, ex-Secretary
of the Navy Mallory, had been given his liberty early
in March.
"Deeply anxious about your good husband," Mr,
Mallory wrote, early in April, " I have deferred writing
to you from day to day since my release, confident that
I would soon be able to congratulate you upon his release.
Persuaded that he will never be called upon seriously to
respond to the charge upon which he was incarcerated,
and unable to perceive any reason or motive for dis-
criminating between him and others, myself included,
who laboured in the Confederate cause, I am at a loss to
conceive why this confinement continues. Of course, I
fully appreciate the character of the struggle between
the two great departments of the Government, and the
embarrassments which it throws in the President's path ;
and hence I attribute to this cause all which affects Mr.
Clay, and which I cannot otherwise account for. But
the restoration of civil law throughout the country
opens a way which his friends may very properly take
. . . and I have been prepared to learn it has been
entered upon!'
A resort to the habeas corpus proceedings thus suggested
by Mr. Mallory had already been discussed by Judge
Black as a step to be taken when all other efforts had
proved unsuccessful. By the fourteenth of March, Mr.
Johnson's courage to act in behalf of Mr. Clay had risen
to the point of procuring for him the liberty of the Fort
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 371
i
without guard, from sunrise to sunset, which order I had
carried at once to General Miles.
"I have not yet called upon the President," I wrote
father upon my return from Fortress Monroe, on the
2gth of March, "but will report myself to-morrow and ask
of him that no revocation of the late order shall be made.
I shall urge Mr. Clay's release, if only temporary, that he
may come and see you and help you arrange your busi-
ness. . . . The Radical pressure on the President is
fearful. They have expelled Foote, and have persuaded
Stewart, of Nevada, his son-in-law, to desert his colours
and cause, and they may pass the veto over the President's
manly veto of the Civil Rights bill. But President
Johnson will fall, if fall he must, battling !'
The records of my calls upon the Executive during the
weeks that followed almost might be traced by the
many pencilled cards sent me by Mr. Johnson from time
to time.
' It will be impossible for me to see you until it is too
late. I am pressed to death ! ' ' reads one. " There is a
committee here in consultation; I cannot tell what time
they will leave. I fear too late, but see if in twenty
minutes," runs another. And a third, "Some matters of
importance are now transpiring. I will see you at any
time, but would prefer passing the answer until Satur-
day." Weeks passed thus in futile calls and beseechings,
until, having tested every expedient to hasten the
President to the fulfilling of his promise, my patience was
exhausted.
"Again I am under the necessity of writing," I began
in a letter to my sister, dated the fourteenth of April,
* without announcing my husband's release ! Nor can
I give you any definite information save what I mean to
do and wish others to do. I am at this moment from
, the President's ; did not see him, but left a note inquiring
when I could, and [asked] to be informed by note, which
372 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
he often does in my case. He shall tell me in this inter-
view whether he means speedily to release Mr. Clay.
If not, then I will have issued the writ of habeas corp^ts,
unless Judge Black oppose it !'
At eleven o'clock at night, however, I added, "The
President sent for me to-night, and I have strong hopes
that Mr. Clay will be released in a few days ! I will
telegraph you immediately when it occurs. I pray
Heaven it may be ere this reaches you !'
Three days later, accompanied by my faithful friend,
Mrs. Bouligny, I again called upon the President. It
was eight o'clock in the evening. Having detected, as I
believed, a disposition on Mr. Johnson's part yet further
to procrastinate, notwithstanding his recent promises
that he would order Mr. Clay's release, I was resolved not
to leave the White House again without the requisite
papers. I announced this intention to the President as
he greeted us, asking him at the same time whether he
would not spare me another moment's anxiety and write
me the long-petitioned-for order for Mr. Clay's release.
Mr. Johnson's mood was light. He repeated some of
the on dits of the day, trying in various ways to divert me
from my object, to which, however, I as often persistently
returned. From time to time other visitors entered to
claim the President's attention; or, he excused himself
while he went into a Committee meeting which was being
held in an adjoining room. During such an interval I
sat at the President's desk and scribbled a short letter in
pencil to Mr. Clay. It was dated:
"EXECUTIVE MANSION, WASHINGTON, D. C.,
April 17, 1866.
"My precious husband!' I wrote. "Behold me seated in
the library of this house, in the President's chair, writing you
the 'glad tidings of great joy ! ' The President has just gone
in for a few moments to see some gentlemen, and will bring
me your release papers when he returns ! He told me on the
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 373
fourteenth that he would try to have them, but not to be too
hopeful. So I came with some misgiving, to be relieved and
rejoiced. Ere this will reach you, you will be informed by
telegram of the release. I will telegraph you to-night. . . .
Judge Black anxiously desires to see you, also Judge Hughes,
both kind friends to me ! '
It was still early in the evening when I wrote this
buoyant epistle, which immediate after-events scarcely
bore out. The President returned again and again to my
companion and me, but ten o'clock arrived and still the
papers had not been given me. I was growing more
and more impatient, but upon reiterating my intention
not to leave without the papers, the President became
somewhat jocular. He invited Mrs. Bouligny and me to
make ourselves comfortable, his words being accompanied
by an evasive smile. My soul rose up in resentment at
this !
; You seem to be inclined to treat this matter lightly,
Mr. President," I said hotly. 'I am indignant! I
want the paper!' Alas ! my protest did not win me a
direct compliance. The hands of a nearby clock already
pointed to eleven when, the President having seated him-
self at a desk or writing-table that stood at hand, I
rose and stepped to his side.
'Mr. President," I said, "are you going to give me
that paper? I will not go until you do!' : My words
were hurled at him angrily. He looked up at me curi-
ously, and the half -cynical smile on his face changed.
It was as if, notwithstanding the ardour with which I had
urged my demand throughout the evening, he now for
the first time realised I was not to be put off.
"Give me the paper, Mr. Johnson!' I urged. "I am
resolved to have it!'
My imperative demand at last proved effectual. The
President turned without further demur and wrote a
brief note, which, upon calling an attendant, he sent out
374 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
immediately. In a few moments the messenger returned,
bearing a paper which read as follows :
"WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D. C.,
"April 17, 1866.
"ORDERED:
"That Clement C. Clay, Jr., is hereby released from confine-
ment and permitted to return to and remain in the State of
Alabama, and to visit such other places in the United States
as his personal business may render absolutely necessary,
upon the following conditions, viz.: That he takes the oath
of allegiance to the United States, and gives his parole of
honour, to conduct himself as a loyal citizen of the same, and
to report himself in person at any time and place to answer
any charges that may hereafter be preferred against him by
the United States.
; ' By order of the President,
"E. D. TOWNSEND,
"Ass't Adgt. General."
The paper, prepared by the hand of an amanuensis,
had been written at and dated from the Executive
Mansion, and a space beneath had been reserved for the
name of the Secretary of War. When it reached my
hand, however, the words at the top, viz. : " Executive
Mansion," had been crossed out and "War Department'
substituted; the space for signature had been filled in
with the name of Mr. Stanton's assistant, General Town-
send, and the words "Secretary of War' : (below) had
been crossed out. The changes were made in a different
ink from that used in the body of the paper. The
document was a curious additional proof of Mr. Stanton's
personal indisposition to release his illegally detained
prisoner, and of Mr. Johnson's equal evasion of the
responsibility of freeing him. As neither name appeared
upon the document, it would seem as if a "muddle" had
been intended in the event of some later complications
arising.
It was already toward the midnight hour when this
document was handed to me. I seized it eagerly, and,
JEFFERSON DAVIS and CLEMENT C. CLAY, JR.
(after release from Fortress Monroe)
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 375
thanking the President for at last performing the act for
which I had so long pleaded, I hurried to the carriage
which had been in waiting and ordered the coachman to
drive with all haste to the telegraph office. As I parted
from the President he expressed the warmest good
wishes for Mr. Clay's health and our future, and pressed
upon me an autographed carte de visite, which I took
with no less surprise than pleasure, being glad to see
in the politician before me this evidence of the inner,
sympathetic man. Though our horses dashed down the
avenue at breakneck speed, it was within a few moments
of twelve o'clock when I hurried into the telegraph
office.
" Can you send a telegram to-night ? " I asked.
'Yes, Madam," was the reply.
Inexpressibly relieved, I dictated these words:
'HONOURABLE C. C. CLAY, Fort Monroe.
' You are released ! Have written you to-night.
"V. C. C."
The President's telegram to the Fortress having been
sent simultaneously with mine, my husband was given
his freedom the next day. There remained, however,
yet a few duties to perform ere I might join him at
Petersburg, whence we together were to return to our
beloved home; to Alabama, with its purple and russet
mountains and spreading valleys, its warm hearts and
loyal friends, and where -waited the feeble and eager
father, ex-Governor Clay, whose remaining tenure of
life was to be so short. There were kindnesses to be
acknowledged ere I left the capital, and on every side I
met detaining hands overwhelming me with congratula-
tions on my success at last. The evening before my
departure, the venerable former Vice-President of the
Confederate States called upon me to extend his good
wishes for the future. Being deterred from coming in
376 A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
person, Judge Black wrote several notes full of his
characteristic impulsiveness.
" Dear Madam," his messages ran, "tell your great and
good husband I could do nothing for him, because his
magnificent wife left nobody else a chance to serve him !
I would have been proud to have some share in his
defense, but circumstances have denied me the honour.
I rejoice none the less in his happy deliverance, and I
have no right to envy you the privilege which you have
used so grandly, of vindicating his stainless name. His
liberation under the circumstances is a full acknowledg-
ment that the charges against him in the proclamation
are infamously false. . . . Your note of yesterday
evening literally took my breath away. After you had
done so much for yourself and I had done so little, nay,
less than nothing, you address me as if I had been your
benefactor merely because I rejoiced in your success.
. . . If I say but little, you must not, therefore, sup-
pose that I shall ever forget your amazing eloquence, your
steadfast courage under circumstances which might have
appalled the stoutest heart; your unshaken faith where
piety itself might almost have doubted the justice of
God ; the prudence with which you instinctively saw what
was best to be done, and the delicacy which never allowed
the charms of the lady to be lost in the great qualities of
the heroine. These things are written down at full
length in the book of my memory, where every day I
turn the leaf to read them. ... I cannot forget your
sad look when I saw you at Mrs. Parker's the last time.
Do not allow yourself to doubt the ultimate triumph of
justice. God has recorded among His unalterable decrees
that no lie shall live forever!
"Remember, if I can serve you it will always seem like
a privilege to do it. In feudal times, when the liege man
did homage to his suzeraine, he put his head between her
hands (if it was a queen or a lady) and declared himself
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 3 7 7
hers to do her commands ; to be the friend of her friends,
and the enemy of her enemies, for life and limb and
earthly honours. Imagine the homage vowed in proper
form, and claim your authority as suzeraine whenever you
please. I ought to add that Mrs. Black was so wrought
upon by your conversation that she has longed to see you
again, and her whole heart, an honest and good one as
ever beat, is yours."
'You went to work like a true wife," was the message
sent by my dear old mess-mate, Mrs. Fitzpatrick ,"and
God blessed you for it. Did you see Mr. Holt? I have
heard he was our bitterest enemy. Can it be so?'
'Ten thousand thanks to God, my dear friend, for
your release ! ' wrote Mr. Mallory to my husband.
'May He punish with rigorous justice
your unjustifiable and most cruel incarceration ! My
wife and I, if indescribables would permit us, would
dance for joy to-day at the news of your release.
Love to your wife ! God bless her bright spirit and
noble heart; and may we meet in Florida, one acre of
whose barrens I would not give for all New England ! "
From Mr. Lamar, "dear old Lushe," the following
tender word came: ;< Ah, my friend, you know not how
often, how constantly my heart has been with you!
Often in the watches of the night, when all around was
hushed in sleep, have I wept over your fate ! . . . I
have not time to write now, except to beg you to come
right here and make your abode with me. We have a
large house. Oh, do, Mr. Clay, do come and see me ! I
would share the last dollar I have with you. Come, my
friend, and live with me, and let us henceforth be insepar-
able. Please come. I believe the sight of you will
restore my health; at least, if anything can.
"Your devoted brother, L. Q. C. LAMAR."*
* Mr. Clay's response to this letter is printed in Mayes' "Life of
Lamar." (Page 122.)
378 ' A BELLE OF THE FIFTIES
The sight of these letters of long ago sets the tears
gushing, and awakens a thousand tender memories of
kind hearts that long since ceased to beat to the emotions
of pain or pleasure. Oh ! the vast army of men and
women who, by their sympathy in those last crucial days
of my experiences in the capital, were a buoy to my
courage, and that of my husband, broken in health, and
heart, and spirit, as we turned back to our home in
Alabama !
The news of his mother's death, which came to Mr.
Clay a few days after his release from Fortress Monroe,
fell upon him like a pall. I could not induce him to
visit Washington, to which city powerful friends had
invited him. He had but one wish; to return to his
stricken father, far from the turbulent political centre,
where a man's life and honour were but as a pawn in the
hands of the unscrupulous politicians of that day.
A few months and his father had passed away, glad-
dened, despite the vicissitudes of his later days, that his
cherished son at last was restored to him. We laid the
tired body beside that of the little mother. Together they
sleep in the valley that smiles up so perennially to the
crest of Monte Sano. A few years of effort for my sake, to
retain an interest in the world which to his broken heart
appeared so cruel and hollow, and my husband withdrew
to our mountain home, sweet with the incense of the
cedars ; to his books and the contemplation of nature ; to
the companionship of the simple and the young. Yet a few
more years, and he, too, fell wearily to sleep, and was put
to rest beside those he had so well loved. I can think of
no more fitting close to this portion of my memories than
these brief quotations, from some of the hundreds of
tributes which came from all quarters of the land, like
the upwelling of healing springs in the desert, when at
last I was left alone.
One who sat in the Senate Chamber in Washington,
THE GOVERNMENT YIELDS ITS PRISONER 379
scanning a later generation of his fellows, all eager in
the strife for the fame that is the guerdon of the true
statesman, wrote thus of Mr. Clay, his predecessor:
"You knew him best, having proved him, by a long
association in the sacred character of wife, in many years
of trial filled with memorable vicissitudes, as a true and
knightly gentleman, a devout Christian, a loyal husband
and friend, a patriot of the sternest type, a statesman of
great ability, and the devoted son of Alabama. In my
course of thought and conduct, as his successor in the Senate,
I have thought it well to accept his standard as that which
would best help me worthily to represent our beloved State.
Mr. Clay left a character here which stands greatly to the
credit of the State, and will be quoted long after we have
passed away, in proof of the character of the people he so
worthily represented. His name and public history in the
Senate are a cause of pride to our people.
"Your sincere friend,
"JOHN T. MORGAN."
And one who had been our intimate friend for more
than thirty years, Bishop Henry C. Lay, wrote of my
dear one thus :
" How gentle and kind he was ! How fond of young
things, and how tender to the weak and helpless ! Espe-
cially was he a singularly devoted husband, giving you
his admiration and his confidence. . . . Life seemed
very full of promise to him in those days. It was a sad
change when the storm arose, with its exile, imprison-
ment, disappointed hopes, retirement into seclusion and
inaction ! Truly your life, with its opposite poles in
Washington and Alabama, has been a varied one ! "
THE END
INDEX
ACKLIN, Miss Corinne, 97, 117.
Adams, J. Q., 62.
Aiken, Frederick A., 309, 320.
Alabama, University of, 17.
Aldrich, Reverend Mr., 241.
Apothleohola, 108-10.
Arlington, Anne, 3.
Arrington, General William, 3.
Ashley, Lord, 117.
Astor, John Jacob, 42.
Ayr, Colonel, 307.
BAGGIOLI, Signor, 97.
Baker, General, 279-80.
Bannister, Reverend J. M., 183.
Barrow, Commodore, 174.
Barry, Mrs. Captain du, 222.
Bass, Mrs. (of Mississippi), 72.
Battle, Alfred, 6-7.
Battle, Mrs. Alfred, 6-n.
Battle, William, 7.
Bayard, Thomas F., 92, 117-18.
Bayard, The Misses, 78.
Baylor, Eugene, 132.
Beauregard, General G. T., 188-9,
368.
Benjamin, Judah P., 238-42.
Bennett, James Gordon, 118.
Benning, General, 205.
Benton, Thomas Hart, 42, 77,
80, 150.
Bertinatti, The Chevalier, 38, 40,
71-2.
Bickley, Captain R. W., 298.
Bierne, Miss Bettie, 36.
Big Spring, 162.
Birmingham, Alabama 17.
iishop, Mme. Anna, 104.
Black, Judge Jeremiah S., 300,
309-10, 314, 329, 362, 370, 376.
Blair, Montgomery, 152.
Blakeman, Captain, 332-33.
Slind Tom, 104-5.
Blount, Mrs., 95.
Bochsa, The harpist, 104.
381
Bodisco, Baron Alexandre de, 25,
3 J > 39-
Bodisco, Baroness, 31-4.
Bodisco, Waldemar, 34.
Boileau, Mme. Gauldre'e, 78-9.
Bouligny, J. .,119.
Bouligny, Mrs. M. E. P., 81, 281,
318,364-6,373.
Bozio, Mme., 101.
Bragg, General Braxton, 191.
Breckinridge, General J. C., 173.
Bright, Senator John, 369.
Brooks, Maria Brewster, 9.
Brooks, Preston, 51, 95.
Brooks-Sumner encounter, 104.
Brougham, John, 103.
Brown, Aaron V., 69, 70.
Brown, Mrs. Aaron V., 69.
Brown, Senator A. G., 140.
Brown, John Potts, 237.
Brown, Robert W., 187.
Brown, Miss Rose, 43.
Buchanan, James 20, 63, 77, 87,
90, 106, 108, 150.
Buckner, Simon B., 173.
Buell, General D. C., 172.
Buena Vista, 68.
Burlingame, Anson, 142.
Butler, Senator A. P., 218.
CALHOUN, John C., 77.
Camerana, Marchisa Incisa de, 72.
Campbell, Miss Henrietta, 76.
Campbell, John A., 64, 74-5, 178,
243-
Campbell, Mrs. John A., 76.
Capers, Bishop, 17.
Carlisle, J. M., 292, 320.
Gary, Clarence, 174.
Gary, Miss Constance, 174-5.
Cass, Miss Belle, 30.
Cass, Lewis, 77. *"
Castle Garden, 101.
Catron, Judge John, 74.
Catron, Mrs. Judge John, 74.
3 8 2
INDEX Continued
Cavendish, Lord, 117.
Chaillu, Paul du, in.
Chambers, Judge William L., 55.
Chapman, Governor Reuben, 182.
Chase, Chevy, 28.
Chase, Salmon P., 58.
Chestnut, Mrs. General, 43, 50,
206, 227.
Clarke, Daniel, 82.
Clay "Castle," 18.
Clay, C. C., Sr., 19, 74, 83, 88,
109-10, 236, 281, 375.
Clay, Mrs. C. C., Sr., 19, 35.
Clay, Clement Claiborne, 11, 15,
17, 88, 97, 132, 139, 143-7. !$7
161, 193, 195, 204, 242, 245, 248.
Clay, Henry, 77, 88.
Clay, Hugh Lawson, 28, 154, 164,
206, 235-6, 242-4.
Clay, Mrs. Hugh Lawson, 166,
175, 191, 195, 243.
Clay, James B., 88.
Clay, J. Withers, 228, 236-7, 254.
Clay, Mrs. J. Withers, 284-5, 34
Clemens, J ere, 13-14, 19-21, 161.
Cleveland, Grover, 75, 92, 118.
Clingman, Gen'l Thomas L., 95,
307-
Clop ton, David, 43.
Clopton, Mrs. David, 55.
Clyde, The William P., 260.
Cobb, Howell, 30, 121, 210, 240-2,
248.
Cobb, Mrs. Howell, 30.
Cobb, W. R. W., 21, 23.
Cohen, Miss, 104.
Coke, Mrs., 71.
Collier, Miss Evelyn, 50.
Collier, Governor H. W., 4, 15, 17,
44-
Collier, Mrs. H. W., 6-9.
Columbus, Mississippi, 15.
Colquitt, Alfred, 195.
Comer, Major Anderson, 191.
Comer, Miss L., 84, 128, 135, 215.
Cooper, Elva E., 352.
Cooper, Dr. George E., 333, 3 50-
2-3.
Corcoran, Louise, 121.
Corcoran, W. W., 120, 123, 308.
Corcoran & Riggs, 81.
Crampton, British Minister, 25,
3 6 -
Craven, Dr. John J., 298,333, 345.
Crisp, The Comedian, 10.
Crittenden, John J., 77, 83.
Crittenden, "Lady," 84-5, 140-1.
Croxton, General, 279.
Culver, George, 155.
Curry, J. L. M., 43, 55.
Curry, Mrs. J. L. M., 55.
Gushing, Caleb, 64.
Cushman, Charlotte, 103, 139.
Cutting, Mrs. Brockholst, 95.
Cutts, Miss Addie, 35, 106.
DAHLGREEN'S RAID, 203.
Davis, Jefferson, 68-9, 75, 147,
i57 i73 2 3S. 244-6, 256-262,
298, 348.
Davis, Mrs. Jefferson, 54, 134,
167, 206, 256-7, 265, 301,
347-
Dean, Julia, 102.
" Dearborns," 5.
Dickens, Asbury, 77.
Doane, Bishop, 138.
Dobbin, Secretary of Navy, 64-8.
Dolan, Pat, 57.
Douglas, Mrs. Stephen A., 35,
i33 3 10 -
Dowdell, Congressman, 20, 23, 25,
48,49.
Drake, Major, 4.
Drew, Mrs., 176.
Duke, Colonel Basil, 191.
Du Val, Mrs. Gabriel, 170.
EAMES, ex-Minister to Venezuela,
140.
Earle, Mrs. Mat tie Orr, 52.
Ebbitt House, 25, 42, 51, 59, 314.
Echols, Major W. H., 302-5, 315.
Eggleston, Colonel, 248-51.
Emily, 61, 101, 130, 169, 242, 278.
Endicott, Mrs., 79.
Enquirer, The Richmond, 26, 237.
Erlanger, Baron d', 30.
Evans, Augusta, 207.
Evarts, William M., 344.
Ewing, Thomas, 288.
FERN, Fanny, 58.
Fillmore, President, 83.
Fitzpatrick, Benj., 20, 55, 147.
Fitzpatrick, Mrs., 25, 55, 57, 91,
377-
INDEX Continued
383
Fitzpatrick, Master Benny, 55-7.
Fitzsimmons, Miss Catherine, 213.
Flash, Captain Harry, 197.
Forrest, Edwin, 102.
Fort, Mr., 4.
Fort, Martha, 4, 15.
Fort, Mary, 4.
Fortress Monroe, 94, 240, 261-2,
269, 281, 298, 334-7, 345-5 2 .
378-9.
Fraley, Captain, 260.
Fremont, Mrs. Jessie Benton,
78-80.
French, Dr., 284-5.
French, General S. D., 199.
GAINES, General, 82-3.
Gaines, Mrs. Myra Clarke, 82-3.
Gamble, Mrs. (of Louisville, Ky.),
303-
Gamester, The, 10.
Gardner, Charles, 25.
Garfield, James A., 62.
Garland, James, 307.
Garner, Colonel, 192.
Garnett, Muscoe, 50.
Garret t, Mr., 107-8.
Gautier's, 31, 70.
Georgetown, 28, 31.
Gilbert, Mrs., 103.
Glentworth, Hamilton, 138.
Gordon, General John B., 206.
Gottschalk, Louis, 49.
Granger, General, 331.
Grant, U. S., 20, 315-17, 357.
Grant, Mrs. U. S., 316, 317.
Greeley, Horace, 330.
Green Academy, 160-3.
Green, Duff, 300.
Greenhow, Mrs. 35.
Grey Eagle, The, 155-6.
Grisi, Mme., 101.
Guthrie, Secretary James V.,
3 7.
Gwin, Senator W. M., 86, 126, 132.
Gwin, Mrs. W. M., 126-37, 152.
HALDEMAN, R. J., 289, 292, 357.
Halleck, General H. W., 260.
Hamersley, Mrs. 120.
Hammond, E. S., 212.
Hammond, Senator J. H., 96, 213,
231-2.
Hammond, Mrs. J. H., 219, 232.
Hammond, Paul, 232.
Hammond, Mrs. Paul, 36, 215.
Hampton, Colonel Wade, 213
Harper & Mitchell, no.
Harper's Ferry, 165, 306.
Harrison, Burton, 174, 368.
Harrison, President, 83.
Havilland, Major de, 129.
Henry, Professor, 76, m.
Henry, Senator, 203.
Herbert, Mrs. Hilary A., 9.
Herstein, Robert, 302.
Hill, Benjamin H., 247.
Hill, Miss Henrietta, 247.
Hilliard, Miss, 46, 127, 138.
Hitchcock, Major, 333.
Holcombe, Professor James P.,
209, 229.
Holt, Joseph, 54, 148, 271-5, 287-
314, 320-28, 364.
Holt, Mrs. Joseph, 127.
Homestead Bill, 21.
Hood, General J. B., 239.
Hotel, Brown's, 42, 51.
Hotel, National, 23.
Hotel, Spottswood, 167.
Hotel, St. Charles, 82.
Hotel, Willard's, 112, 306-7, 315.
Howard, Mrs., 95.
Ho well, Miss Maggie, 256, 260,
265.
Hudson, Lieutenant, 266.
Hughes, Judge, 309-10, 362.
Hulseman, Baron, 44, 89.
Hunt, John, 160.
Hunter, R. M.T., 75.
Huntsville, Alabama, 17-8, 157,
164, 172.
Hurlburt, General Stephen A., 22 2.
IHRIE, General, 307-315.
Institute, Hydropathic, 22.
Intelligencer, The Washington,
325-
Irving, Washington, 13.
Ives, Mrs. Cora Semmes, 173, 174.
JACKSON, Thomas Jonathan
("Stonewall"), 188.
Japanese Embassy, 110-113.
Johnson, Andrew, 35, 288, 311-12,
318-29, 340-4, 354, 361, 364,
37 I ~3-
Johnson, Colonel George, 192.
INDEX Continued
Johnson, Reverdy, 75.
Johnson, Colonel Robert, 318.
Johnston, Albert Sidney, 172.
[ohnston, Dr., 93.
[ohnston, Joseph E-., 152, 188,
236.
Johnston, Mrs. Joseph E., 167.
Johnston, Mrs. W. D., 255.
Jones, General George Wallace,
77, 80-1, 129.
Jones, Mrs. Thomas Benton, 78
KEAN, Charles, 10.
Keck, Lieutenant, 252, 254.
Keitt, Lawrence M., 95-6.
Keitt, Mrs. Lawrence M., 96.
Kennedy, Mrs., 313.
Key, Francis Barton, 95-6, 130,
133-
Kierulf, Miss Rose, 90.
King, Butler, 174.
LAMAR, Colonel, 205.
Lamar, Mrs. Lucius Mirabeau, 255.
Lamar, L. Q. C., 43, 48, 75, 181,
204, 377.
Lamar, Mrs. L. Q, C., 48, 130.
Lane, Miss Harriet, 89, 90, 104,
114-130.
Lanier, Clifford A., 55, 197-9.
Lanier, Sidney, 197-9, 201.
Lay, Bishop Henry C., 379.
Lee, Robert E., 189, 227, 242, 368.
Lee, Mrs. Robert E., 201.
Leese, Mrs. William, 90.
Le Vert, Mme., 12-17, 3S 2I 3
368.
Lincoln, Abraham, 75, 119, 245.
Lind, Jenny, 101, 105.
Ligon, Governor, 55.
Logan, General John A., 184.
Longstreet, General James, 187-8,
358-
Lubbuck, ex-Governor Francis
R-, 258.
Lumley, Mr., 37.
Lyons, Lord, 141.
" MACAIRE, Robert" (play of), 10.
Magruder, Colonel John B., 152.
Mallory, Miss Ruby, 176.
Mallory, Stephen R., 30, 147, 170,
177, 195, 209, 235, 246, 249, 313,
367,37.377-
Mallory, Mrs. S. R M 158, 167,
Marcy, Miss Nellie, 63.
Marcy, William L., 62.
Marcy, Mrs. W. L., 63.
Mario, Signer, 101.
Marlboro, Duchess of, 1 20.
Marshall, Chief Justice, 74.
Marshall, Henry, 174.
Mason, Miss Emily, 201.
Massonis, The, 39.
Maury, The Misses, 78, 92.
Maury, Dr. Thos., 358. '
Maury, Professor, 76.
May, Dr., 51, 358,
Maynard Rifle, 105.
McClellan, General G. F., 63.
McClelland, Secretary, 64.
McClung, Alex. Keith, 15-16.
McDaniels, The, 201.
McEwan, Captain, 298.
McLean, John, 77.
McKim, Charles, 273.
McQueen, General and Mrs., 51,
56.
Memphis, Tennessee, 72, 157, 222.
Mercer, General, 274.
Merrick, Mrs. Judge, 54.
Miles, General Nelson A., 267-8,
2 7S 292-3, 296,334, 345.
Miles, Porcher, 36.
Miller, Major, 307.
Mississippi, Territory of, 4, 160.
Mitchell, General O. M., 181, 183.
Mitchell, Miss, 183-4.
Mobile Meadows, 10.
Montague, Mr., n.
Monterey, 15.
Moore, Sydenham, 188, 190.
Morgan, General J. H., 169.
Morgan, Senator J. T., 153, 378.
Morris Island, 143.
Morrow, Dr., 110, 112.
Muhlenberg, Lieutenant, 334.
Myers, Lieutenant Henry, 126.
Myers, Mr. Frederick, 274.
NAPIER, Lord, 30, 89, 114, 117,
Napier, Lady Nina, 114.
Nashville Female Academy, 15.
Nashville, Tennessee, 15, 172, 236.
New York Herald, 355-6.
New York News, 237.
Nicolay & Hay, 73, 86.
Norwalk, Connecticut, 27.
INDEX Continued
385
O'CoNOR, Charles, 290-1.
Orr, James L., 20, 51, 314.
Orr, Mrs. James L., 52-3.
Ouseley, Sir William Gore, 134.
PALMER (Heller), 38-40.
Parepa Rosa, 101.
Parker, Mrs. A. S., 119, 281, 321,
340, 367.
Parker, Reverend Henry E., 148.
Parrish, Mr., 123.
Partington, Mrs., 128-137.
Patterson, Mrs., 339.
Patti, Adelina, 37.
Pember, Mrs. Phoebe, 201, 277.
Pendleton, George H., 146, 304-5.
Pendleton, Mrs. George H., 89,
13. SOS-
Pennsylvania Avenue, 28, 42, 102,
306.
Perry, Commodore M. C., no.
Pettigrew, General James G.,
188.
Phillips, Philip, 229, 248, 254.
Phillips, Mrs. Philip, 151, 201.
Phillips, The Misses, 104.
Pierce Administration, 27.
Pierce, Franklin, 28, 59-63, 68,
87, 106.
Pierce, Mrs. Franklin, 28.
Pierce, T. W., 271.
Pillow, General Gideon J., 69,
172.
"Pocahontas" (Play), 103.
Polk, Mrs., 71, 368.
Poore, Ben-Perley, 128.
Pope, Colonel, 160.
Podestad, Mme. de, 368.
Potomac, The, 28.
Prescott, Harriet, 64.
Price, Lilly, 120.
Pryor, Mrs. Roger A., 44, 47, 179.
Pritchard, Colonel, 258, 261.
Pugh, George E., 146.
Pugh, Mrs. George E., 44-47, 89,
97. J 33. *46, 33-4-
RAASLOFF, Minister from Den-
mark, 150.
Ramsey, Admiral, 95.
Ramsey, Marian, 95.
Randolph, Mrs., 173.
Rattlesnake, The, 227, 241.
Reagan, John H., 258.
Reames, Vinnie, 369.
Redd, Mrs., 225, 233.
Reedy, Miss, 169.
Rhett, Colonel Robert Barnwell,
355-6-
Rich, Mrs., 90-94.
Richmond, Va., 168, 206, 236, 239.
Richmond Enquirer, 26, 237.
Riggs, Mrs. George, 37.
Riggs & Corcoran, 308.
Robinson, Reverend Stuart, 287
Roddy, General, 183.
Rogers, Representative, 325.
Rountree, Mile., 94.
Ruffin, Edmund, 145-6.
SANDERS, Miss Narcissa, 69.
Sandidge, "Little Jimmy," 131.
Sartiges, Countess de, 30.
Scarlett, Lieutenant, 136.
Schaumberg, Miss Emily, 116.
Scott, Alfred, 315.
Scott, Captain, 33.
Semmes, Mrs. Myra Knox, 174.
Semmes, Raphael, 144, 370.
Semmes, Thomas H., 246, 249.
Seward, Frederick, 81.
Seward, Senator W. H., 58, 81,
131, 136, 238.
Sewing Machines, The New, 103.
Seven Pines, Battle of, 187.
Shea, George, 292.
Sherman, General W. T., 230,
232-3, 239.
Shipman, Lieutenant Lemuel, 298.
Shorter, Eli S., 164.
Sickles, Daniel E., 52, 97, 118.
Sickles, Mrs. Daniel E., 52.
Slidell, Mrs. John, 29.
Smith, General Gustavus W., 188.
Smith, General Kirby E., 154,
246.
Smith, Judge William, 160.
Smithsonian Institution, 124.
Soule, Congressman, 174.
Sparrow, General, 229.
Spence, Alice, 184.
Spicer, Emily, 65, 66, 90.
Spicer, Commander W. F., 65, 66
Spofford, Mr., 64.
Staeckl, Baron de, 38-9.
Stafford, General, 205.
Stafford, Samuel M., 9.
3 86
INDEX Concluded
Stannard, Mrs., 174.
Stanton, Edwin M., 289, 312-14,
344, 361,364.
Star of the West, 143.
Stars, Falling of the, 7.
Stephens, Alex. H., 242, 258, 370.
Stevens, Miss, 50, 95.
Stevens, Thaddeus. 356.
Stone Mountain, 17.
Stover, Mrs., 338.
Stuart, General J. E. B., 170.
St. Thomas, Island of, 150.
TANEY, Roger B., 73-4.
Tayloe, Ogle, 307.
Tayloe, Mrs. Ogle, 30, 119, 307.
Tennessee, Palisades of, 19.
Tetlow, Captain J. B., 298.
Thackeray, W. M., 104.
Thomas, A. J., 104.
Thomas, General B. M., 278.
Thompson, Mrs. Jacob, 29, 86.
Thomson, Mrs. J. R., 118.
Thomson, William, 91.
Toombs, Senator Robert, 30, 243.
Toombs, Mrs. Robert, 86.
Townsend, General E. D., 374.
Tracy, General E. D., 155, 165-6,
190, 193.
Tree, Ellen, 10.
Tucker, Lee, 174.
Tunstall, Brian, 10.
Tunstall, Sir Cuthbert, 10.
Tunstall, George, 232.
Tunstall, Peyton Randolph, 3.
Tunstall, Thomas B., 9, 13, 14, 26.
Tunstall, Tom Tait, 90.
Tuscaloosa, Ala., 4, 6, 9, 15, 17,
109.
Tyler, ex- President John, 144.
VALLANDIGHAM, Clement L., 146.
Vallette, Captain Octave, 207-8.
Vogell, Dr. Henry C., 335.
Voorhees, Daniel, 369.
WALKER, Aunt Dolly, 205.
Walker, Leroy Pope, 182.
Walker, R. J., 75, 357.
Walton, Octavia, 35, 368.
War, Black Hawk, 80.
War, Revolutionary, 3.
Ward, Miss Josephine, 118.
Warrior, The Black, 109.
Watterson, Henry, 47.
Wayne, James M., 77.
Weed, Thurlow, 58.
Wesselhoeft, Dr., 22.
Wheeler's Brigade, 232.
Wheeler, General Joseph, 234, 259.
White House, The, 26, 85, 106,
I 3 339. 35.4-
Whittle, Major and Mrs., 229,
242, 254, 278, 279.
Wickliffe, Sisters, 54, 202.
Wigfall, Louis T., 246-7.
Williams, General A. S., 35.
Williams, Buxtpn, 185-6.
Williams, Harriet, 31.
Wilson, Henry A., 358-9, 360-1.
Wilson, General James H., 250,
254, 276.
Winder, General John H., 187.
Winter, Mrs. Annie, 207, 258.
Wirt, General and Mrs. Wm., 69.
Withers, Miss Hattie, 127.
Withers, General Jones M., 164,
192.
Withers, Mrs. Jones M., 223.
Withers, Robert, 244.
Withers, Dr. Thomas, 153, 348.
Wood, Benjamin, 289.
Woods, Colonel, 278.
Winans,. Ross, 369.
Wyeth, John A., 279.
YANCEY, William L., 16, 180-1.
Yulee, David L., 147, 274.
Yulee, Mrs. David L., 54, 202-3.
ZOLLICOFFER, General Felix K.,
172, 197.
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